SLAVES OF THE 
 
 SAWDUST 
 
 BY AM YE READE AUTHOR OF RUBY 
 
L I E) R.AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N I VLRS ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 R22U 
 
 1893 
 
Return ^is book on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. A 
 charge is made on all overdue 
 books. 
 
 University of Illinois Library 
 
 J/IN 
 
 y im 
 
 
 M32 
 
Slaves of 
 
 the Sawdust. 
 
 BY 
 
 AMYE READE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF ‘RUBY.’ 
 
 LONDON; F. V. WHITE & CO., 
 14 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. 
 
 1893. 
 
 [All Rights reserved.^ 
 
V. 7 ^ ' 
 
 ■\ 
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2016 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates 
 
 https://archive.org/details/slavesofsawdustOOread 
 

 TO 
 
 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON, 
 
 POET LAUREATE, 
 
 WHOSE DIVINE POETRY 
 
 AND 
 
 LOVE FOR HUMANITY HAS TOUCHED THE HEARTS OF ALL, 
 
 
 
 •V 
 
 ITbis Boob, 
 
 
 WITH PERMISSION, 
 
 
 DeDicateb 
 
 
 / 
 
 5: 
 
 BY THE 
 
 'J 
 
 V> 
 
 ; 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 
 1 t 50345 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I.— On the Nab’s Head, .... i 
 
 II.— WHANKS, II 
 
 III. — Looking Back, 21 
 
 IV. — Making an Enemy, . . . . 31 
 
 V. — Envy and Hatred, .... 42 
 
 VI.— No Joy comes unmixed, ... 56 
 
 VII. — ‘Jacta est Alea,' .... 69 
 
 VIII. — Horrox, 77 
 
 IX.— Unprofessionals, .... 90 
 
 X.— Joining the Profession, . . .101 
 
 XL— In the Transvaal, . . . .111 
 
 XII.—‘ Mother! ’ ‘ Leila,’ .... 125 
 
 XI I L— ‘My Aunt’s Money,’ . . . .136 
 
 XIV.— ‘The Wages of Sin,’ . . . .146 
 
 XV.— In the Ring, . . . . . 160 
 
 XVI. — Mad for Love, 170 
 
 XVIL— The Golden Cord is brokp:n, . . 178 
 
 XVIII. — Shadows and Dust, .... 194 
 
 XIX.— Tom tries His Luck, .... 200 
 
 XX.-— In Sacred Aisle, .... 212 
 
 XXL— A Broken Pledge, .... 221 
 
 XXII.— Another Change, .... 233 
 
 XXIII. — Behind the Scenes, .... 243 
 
 XXIV.— On the Trail, 257 
 
 XXV.— Paid in Full, 269 
 
 XXVI. — The Beginning of the End, . . 284 
 
 XXVIL— Death Unseen, 295 
 
 XXVIII.— Finale, 304 
 
 CHILD LABOUR, .... 307 
 
PREFA CE. 
 
 Much as I anticipated opposition to the indictment 
 in my novel Ruby, in which I dealt with the cruel- 
 ties employed in the training of young people for 
 the amusements of thoughtless crowds, little did I 
 expect that the selfish unbelief of some professing 
 philanthropy would have been my greatest diffi- 
 culty in arousing public sympathy for a long-suf- 
 fering class, which are as yet practically helpless. 
 
 In their ill-judged supineness, some critics acted 
 against me without examining the existence of 
 the evil. I invited such examination from the pub- 
 lic platform, and made such efforts as I deemed 
 advisable, through my novel to teach the public the 
 truth, which until then had been a dead secret. 
 Further, I recommended them to inquire and as- 
 sure themselves that my statements of the veritable 
 horrors of the ring were positive realities. 
 
 My challenge was unheeded. They asserted, in 
 their ignorance of circus life, that the conditions 
 under which I described the children’s sufferings 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 were impossible, and in many instances I have been 
 met with distrust and actual contradiction. 
 
 Some could not understand the brutality of men 
 for the sake of gain. They had never put a foot 
 ‘behind the scenes/ yet they deemed themselves 
 capable of judging that of which they knew nothing, 
 and so declined to believe an accumulation of evi- 
 dence. They deprecated any interference which 
 might put an end to what they call amusement, 
 but which I declare to be injustice and cruelty. 
 
 I have been severely blamed for representing, 
 very mildly, the strong language daily used in con- 
 nection with circus life. I maintain that I wrote no 
 more than was necessary to point out the moral con- 
 dition by which the girls are surrounded, but senti- 
 mentalists preferred that the evil should continue to 
 exist rather than that it should be made known and 
 redressed by public sympathy. Surely that which is 
 too horrible to read should be regarded as too vile 
 to live, and the language which has outraged their 
 instincts cannot be less degrading to the young 
 children’s ears, when training for the circus, or the 
 trapeze. 
 
 Is it not hypocritical to cry down that which is 
 true, whilst erotic novels with profligate heroes 
 abound in fashionable libraries and adorn the 
 drawing - room, in order that fair and thoughtless 
 women may while away the languid hours. 
 
 Yet these very people frequent the circus for 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 vii 
 
 amusement, and enjoy seeing the poor spangled 
 riders and acrobats straining their limbs into all 
 kinds of unnatural postures, knowing as they know 
 now, the frightful tortures they must have under- 
 gone to fit themselves for their performances. 
 
 Their selfishness is apparent, they withhold their 
 sympathies, they call my careful statements of facts 
 ‘ Sensation,’ ‘ An advertisment,’ ‘ An impossibility in 
 a Christian country’ — could I not write of such 
 people that they are dull, unimpressible, and want- 
 ing in heart and moral courage ? 
 
 It is true I drew a pitiful picture, I set down hard 
 truths, truths which those who cry out about 
 sweaters in the slums dare not have uncovered. I 
 made known in Ruby a great deal, but there is 
 more to divulge about the ‘‘ slaves of the sawdust.” 
 
 My mission shall be to tell it. I will go on until 
 I have gained the protection I crave for those who 
 perform wonderful feats for the pleasure of the 
 people. 
 
 There is a dark phase in the lives of those who 
 are engaged in the circus, but the light is beginning 
 to break, the dawn is not very distant. For this 
 end, I again place before my readers another tale, 
 founded upon facts which I have personally verified. 
 
 With renewed vigour and perseverance, I am 
 again directing my steps to the goal from which 
 will arise the emancipation of these white slaves, 
 and all my efforts will be directed to that great end, 
 
Vlll 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 however remote it may appear to those who have 
 found it so easy to consider my work far removed 
 from the probabilities of truth. 
 
 I shall never weary waiting for victory ; I shall 
 never tire of my self-imposed task. I intend to dedi- 
 cate all my faculties, all my time to win the cause 
 of the young — no opposers shall obstruct my path, 
 even if they dare to impute to me the stigma which 
 must for ever rest on those who put idealism under 
 the garb of truth. 
 
 AMYE READE. 
 
 Christmas 1891. 
 
Slaves of the Sawdust. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ON THE NAB’S head. 
 
 What was that sound which broke the stillness 
 of the summer day ? Was it the call of someone 
 in dire distress, or was it the hoarse cry of a 
 seabird ? 
 
 Repose, there seemed to be repose, everywhere, 
 as far as the eye could see. Even the little village 
 of Sandcliffe, with its quaint houses and wayside 
 inn, was basking in the glorious heat of the July 
 day. The unpaved street was almost deserted, for 
 only a few cows, driven by a small boy, were to 
 be seen lazily making their way to the farm upon 
 the hill. 
 
 Now and again a shopkeeper peeped out of his 
 door, for trade was slack and there was nothing to 
 while away the long drowsy afternoon. 
 
 There were no strangers to attract attention, for 
 Sandcliffe was too remote a place for holiday folk, 
 and there was only a daily coach service between 
 it and the town of Bayhaven, three miles away. 
 
 One summer, two great artists had come to paint 
 a sea scene. Quite a flutter of excitement had 
 A 
 
2 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 been caused by their appearance, and the villagers 
 made much of them. Indeed it was an event long 
 to be remembered. 
 
 This summer-tide there were no artists to dis- 
 turb the tranquillity of the good folks ; so the days 
 came and went with very little change in the 
 monotony, which had grown habitual even to the 
 young of the village. Sometimes a funeral, winding 
 its way to the little Norman church, would give 
 rise to lengthened gossips and discussions amongst 
 the simple band left behind, or a village wedding 
 lend a passing excitement to those who had known 
 the bride’s mother since baby days, had watched 
 the bride, too, as she grew up a pretty, graceful 
 maiden, who perchance had never been out of her 
 village home, and who knew nothing of the restless, 
 anxious world beyond. 
 
 A mile from these village homes the coast 
 stretched down to the open sea, and a weird spot 
 it was. During the winter days the waters 
 frowned in angry majesty, and heavy grew the 
 swell against the cold grey cliffs. Terrific was the 
 roar of the waves as they broke against the pebbled 
 shore ; it seemed almost as if sky, cliffs, storm, and 
 sea mated together, making the scene one of un- 
 abated fury. 
 
 But there were no storm clouds now chasing 
 each other with angry force, the sweeping waters 
 were resting, and only a murmur like a melodious 
 chant was discernible, and that was but feebly 
 heard from the shore, for the tide was down and 
 there was a great expanse of golden sand stretch- 
 ing away before the blue waves, chaffing in idle 
 play, could be reached. Further along, where the 
 shore grew wider and more desolate, the murmur 
 grew louder, for the waves broke against a mass of 
 grey cragged rock, whose shattered peaks heaved 
 
ON THE NAB’S head. 
 
 3 
 
 from the water. At the ebb-tide they stood out 
 in bold relief, but at the flow they were hidden by 
 the waves. Sombre, beautiful as they were, stories 
 were told by the villagers of the treacherous 
 dangers of the Nab’s Head Rock, for between the 
 rock and the land an undercurrent flowed as the 
 tide rose, and so insidious was it that a stranger 
 could not guess from the gentle movement of the 
 water of the terrible foe lurking beneath. On, on 
 the current came, until the water grew black and 
 deep, and the only way to the shore from Nab’s 
 Head Rock was through the Valley of Death. 
 
 The tide was rising now, and each moment the 
 rock was growing less and less beneath the ad- 
 vancing tide, whilst the current between the shore 
 and Nab’s Head was running in with tremendous 
 force. Soon all communication would be cut off, 
 and the rock would be submerged for many hours. 
 
 Once again that strained, harsh cry was heard ; it 
 seemed to rise from the bosom of the sea, and then 
 die away among the massive silent cliffs. 
 
 Again it came, fraught with anguish, almost 
 heart-rending in its intensity. It could be no sea- 
 bird, for the words, ‘ Help ! help ! I’m drowning ! ’ 
 uttered with passionate entreaty, reached the shore. 
 
 A rider had been galloping over the smooth 
 sands, as yet untouched by the tide. He drew rein 
 suddenly and listened ; his boarhound uttered a 
 long, low growl, he turned fiercely towards the 
 dog. 
 
 ‘ Be quiet, you brute, lie down.’ 
 
 The animal obeyed his voice instantly, and 
 crouched a few yards from the restive, pant- 
 ing horse. The rider glanced hurriedly around, 
 shore — sand, sea, cliffs came under his rapid glance, 
 but not until his eyes rested upon the rock did he 
 perceive from whence the cry had arisen. 
 
4 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 There he saw the flutter of a summer dress, an 
 upturned face, white and drawn with acute agony 
 and nameless terror. The owner of the face was 
 clinging to the rugged rock with all her strength, 
 whilst the sea encroached upon her every moment. 
 The man saw that action must be prompt or it 
 would be too late. 
 
 He struck his horse sharply with his whip, and 
 the already nervous and excited animal plunged 
 and reared, as if to resent such treatment, but a few 
 sharp pricks from the spurs caused him to hasten 
 his pace. 
 
 The girl had caught sight of the man, and she 
 renewed her cry of distress. 
 
 ' ‘ Help ! help ! I cannot reach the shore — save 
 me!’ 
 
 ‘Don’t be afraid, Madame,’ he shouted, ‘I will 
 come to you ; my horse shall do it. Hold on 
 tightly, do you understand ? ’ 
 
 His authoritative tone reassured her, she was 
 quite convinced that her danger was over, that he 
 could really rescue her from her perilous position. 
 
 ‘ I understand,’ she replied faintly. Exhaustion 
 was stealing over her, and this her rescuer seemed 
 to realise. 
 
 ‘ Hold on a little longer,’ he shouted again ; ‘you 
 shall soon be safe.’ 
 
 The dog barked lustily when his master at- 
 tempted to make his horse plunge into the deep 
 water to reach the rock beyond. 
 
 Narrow as the crossing was, the animal refused 
 to obey ; he resisted bit and bridle, and the bark- 
 ing of the dog made him still more impatient and 
 more eager to turn his back upon the sea. 
 
 ‘ Hold your infernal noise 1 ’ the horseman 
 shouted, and he stooped down and gave the dog 
 a stinging cut with his whip. With a howl of pain 
 
ON THE NAB’S head. 5 
 
 the animal slunk away, and watched his master 
 from afar with eager eyes. 
 
 Again he tried to put the horse to the water, but 
 without success. He plunged again and again, 
 backing on to the shore until his haunches almost 
 touched the sandy beach. 
 
 The girl saw the affrighted horse from her vant- 
 age ground, and fear crept over her once again. 
 Would the man’s efforts to save her prove to be 
 unavailing after all ? 
 
 He did not call to her again, all his attention 
 was directed to his horse. Oh ! how long it 
 seemed to her before he brought it once more to 
 the water’s edge, and yet it was scarcely a minute. 
 He applied his spurs to the already bleeding flanks, 
 and used his whip unmercifully. Neck, shoulders, 
 and head came in for a shower of cruel cuts, until 
 at length, with a neigh of terror, the horse plunged 
 into the deepening sea. On, on he went, feeling 
 his way cautiously and timidly, until the water 
 reached beyond the girth, then he was carried by 
 the current off his feet, and swimming became a 
 necessity. At last, after many a struggle, he reached 
 the more shallow water at the foot of the rock. 
 There was just sufficient room for the horse to 
 stand, and then his rider spoke. 
 
 ‘Now, Madame, do as I tell you quickly ; delay 
 will endanger our lives. Come as near me as you 
 can, otherwise I cannot get a firm hold. You must be 
 quick ; it takes all my time to keep this beast quiet’ 
 
 She crept cautiously towards him, and in another 
 moment he stretched over, and grasping her firmly 
 round the waist, swung her on to the saddle before 
 him and then wheeled the horse round shorewards. 
 The task was not easy. With one hand he sup- 
 ported the girl, and with the other he held whip 
 and bridle. To make matters more difficult. 
 
6 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 the horse plunged wildly, and splashed the water 
 over them, blinding him with the spray. Some- 
 times the current carried them quickly forward, 
 and to actually guide the animal was practically 
 impossible. 
 
 The girl tried to thank him, but he bade her 
 somewhat sternly to be silent. 
 
 Back again with his double burthen the horse 
 fought his way through the treacherous current, 
 until at length, almost exhausted, he felt the yield- 
 ing sand beneath his hoofs. He stumbled once or 
 twice on the loose shingle, and then the girl knew 
 their terrible adventure was over. 
 
 Her rescuer lifted her from the horse as easily 
 as if she had been a child, and then dismounting 
 himself, he slipped the bridle over his arm and 
 turned towards her. For a moment they stood in 
 silence — a coyness came over the girl now the 
 danger was averted and she found herself face to 
 face with a stranger. 
 
 She was terribly agitated ; he was calm, cool, 
 and collected. 
 
 At last he spoke. 
 
 ‘ Won’t you sit down for a few moments. Made- 
 moiselle, on that boulder close behind you and 
 recover yourself? ’ 
 
 He had substituted Mademoiselle for Madame 
 when he found she was a mere girl, perhaps 
 scarcely eighteen years of age. 
 
 ‘You must be tired and wet too, I fear,’ he 
 added kindly. His tone of sympathy gave her 
 confidence, and she looked up into his face. 
 
 What a pleasing picture he made standing there. 
 A tall, dignified man, about thirty years of age, his 
 dark flashing eyes and black hair served to show 
 to greater advantage the rest of his fine features. 
 A heavy black moustache half hid the haughty 
 
ON THE NABS HEAD. 
 
 7 
 
 smiling mouth. But how firm he looked : vigour 
 and energy of mind were clearly perceptible, and 
 an observant person could hardly describe his face 
 as sincerely kind. Handsome beyond a doubt, 
 but there was something undefined, something 
 which baffled description, which would make the 
 decision hardly in his favour. But the girl only 
 saw his manly beauty, and without knowing it 
 her heart yielded to the lavish touch of nature, and 
 she contemplated him as she would have done 
 anything else which inspired her with admiration. 
 
 ‘Yes, I am very tired,’ and she sat down on the 
 boulder gratefully. ‘ I was so frightened. How 
 good you were to save me.’ She paused, her eyes 
 filled with tears. After a struggle she continued : 
 
 ‘ I am so very, very grateful.’ She put out her 
 hand, and as he took it he noticed how white and 
 elegant it was, and he wondered who the fair- 
 haired girl could be who had been left to the 
 mercy of the waves. 
 
 ‘ It has been a great pleasure to serve you. I am 
 deeply thankful I came in time to be of use.’ 
 
 He smiled bewitchingly as he spoke, his eyes 
 beaming with genuine admiration as he looked 
 down on the pretty girlish face. 
 
 ‘ You are very good to say so, but it was all my 
 own fault. I fell asleep, and when I awoke the 
 waves which had been so far away before were 
 close upon me. I called again and again, but no 
 reply came. Then I thought I was lost, when 
 suddenly you came up and saved me. You might 
 have been drowned too. How brave you were ! ’ 
 ‘You think so,’ he replied in his rich, decisive 
 tones, ‘but I assure you it was nothing after all. 
 Any man would do as much to gain the thanks of 
 one so fair as you.’ He raised his hat and bowed. 
 She smiled, but did not reply. She was not 
 
8 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 prepared for compliments, least at all from a 
 stranger, yet they pleased her. 
 
 Brave and stern he looked, whilst the shadows 
 played around him — a man born to be a hero, if the 
 Fates had not denied him such glory — a man who 
 would have defied life and death, if .such could be 
 possible ; but he possessed one peculiar faculty, of 
 which he was very proud, and that was his power 
 of inspiring fear, yet with passionate love, when 
 he chose he used this influence with great force. 
 This spell he now cast over the young girl before 
 him. 
 
 ‘ Be quiet, sir, do you hear, be quiet.’ He turned 
 to the horse with a scowl. ‘You brute,’ he had 
 been about to say, but discretion came to his aid 
 and he substituted ‘ sir.’ 
 
 ‘“Fleetfoot” is so impatient,’ he continued. 
 ‘ I’ve had a pretty tough time of it coming from 
 Bayhaven ; he is young and fresh.’ 
 
 ‘ “ Fleetfoot,” what a pretty name,’ and for the 
 first time she turned to give the animal a searching 
 look. ‘ You should call him “ Rubicon ” after to-day, 
 because he has crossed the small stream coming 
 from the sea. The water we came through will do 
 for the “ Rubicon,” and you,’ she hesitated, ‘ can 
 be Caesar, you are as courageous as he.’ 
 
 A smile broke over his countenance at her 
 words, that fascinating smile which had won more 
 hearts than gold. 
 
 As she spoke something hot and moist licked 
 her hand, and she turned round to see a large dog 
 close upon her. 
 
 ‘ Oh, you beauty ! ’ she exclaimed, with sudden 
 joy in her voice. ‘ I suppose he belongs to you ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes; his name is “Athol.” He’s a splendid 
 beast. Are you fond of dogs?’ 
 
 •‘Very, but I don’t think you can be,’ she 
 
ON THE NAB’S head. 
 
 9 
 
 answered shyly. ‘ I saw you struck him with 
 the whip ; his cry of pain came to me on the 
 rock, and poor “ Fleetfoot,” you lashed him 
 cruelly — oh, it was horrible, horrible ! * and she 
 shuddered as she spoke. 
 
 ‘ I am afraid young ladies don't quite under- 
 stand horses with vile tempers,' he remarked 
 severely. ‘ Do not you think a human life is of 
 more consequence than that of a horse ? Could 
 I have let you drown,' he added more gently, 
 ‘because my horse refused to take the water? 
 “Fleetfoot," or “ Rubicon" as you wish him called, 
 must obey his master.' 
 
 She felt somewhat nettled by his manner, and 
 yet she was captivated by his strong will and 
 absolute power. 
 
 ‘ I do not wish him called “ Rubicon," ' she 
 replied quietly. ‘You must think me very rude 
 to have suggested a change in the name of your 
 horse, but I do think he could have crossed the 
 stream just as easily had you shown him more 
 mercy. Shakespeare says : “ Mercy becomes the 
 monarch better than his crown." Do you ever 
 read Shakespeare?' 
 
 ‘ I have no time, Mademoiselle ; I wish I had,' he 
 replied gravely. 
 
 ‘ I always carry a tiny copy of one of his plays,' 
 and she pulled one from her pocket as she spoke 
 and held it up for his inspection. 
 
 ‘ May I look at it ? ' He took it from her, and 
 then, as if by accident, he turned to the fly-leaf and 
 read her name, Leila Gurney. 
 
 She watched him as he turned the wet leaves 
 backwards and forwards, his diamond ring flash- 
 ing in the light, and a pale flush spread over her 
 face. She had forgotten her name was in the 
 book, but it was too late now — he had seen it. 
 
lO 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ Thank you/ he added, as he handed her back 
 the tiny volume. ‘ Do you often come down here 
 by the sea? It must be nice in the early morning, 
 cool and refreshing/ 
 
 ‘Yes, I come every day, but generally in the 
 afternoon, never in the morning/ 
 
 Unsuspectingly she had given the man just the 
 information he wished for, and to his next question 
 she replied just as truthfully. 
 
 ‘ You live down in this place, I suppose?’ 
 
 ‘No, I am here for the summer. I lodge at 
 Green’s Cottages up in the village, but it is dread- 
 fully dull,’ she added sadly. ‘ I have no friends — 
 not even a dog or a horse — not a soul with whom 
 I can exchange ideas. It is miserable.’ 
 
 ‘I am sure it must be/ he replied. ‘You’re 
 very young to be so much alone/ 
 
 She rose from the boulder, caressing the dog as 
 she did so. She paused and looked seawards. The 
 Nab’s Head could not be seen now. A grey mist 
 was skimming along deep down on the horizon, 
 and the ships with their brown sails looked like 
 big birds with expanded wings against the sky. 
 
 Nearer to the shore the sun’s rays were steeping 
 the clouds with gold, and breasting the waves with 
 colour, making their edges glittering and ruddy. 
 
 ‘ Well, good-bye/ and once again she put out 
 her hand, ‘good-bye, and thank you a thousand 
 times for saving my life. I only wish I could give 
 you some recompense for all you have done, but 
 I own nothing of value that I could offer you. 
 I wish I did.’ 
 
 He took her hand gently, a thrill went through 
 her at his touch ; he noticed how the flush rose to 
 her cheeks as he said good-bye. 
 
 Then he turned towards the horse. 
 
 ‘ “ Rubicon/’ we must go home/ he said, mount- 
 
WHANKS. 
 
 II 
 
 ing quickly, and then whistling to his dog, he 
 looked at the beautiful girl standing on the shore. 
 
 ‘ Good-bye, Mademoiselle,' he called, and then lift- 
 ing his hat he rode off in the direction of the town. 
 
 What a change had come over her life in those 
 few short minutes, and as she hurried to her cottage 
 home everything seemed brighter and more cheer- 
 ful. Her life hitherto had been so dull, such a blank, 
 that any change gave her intense pleasure. 
 
 This stranger had come, and pleasant visions of 
 his fine, handsome face and gentle manners haunted 
 her thoughts as the one bright star of her life. 
 
 Who was he she wondered ? He had given her 
 no clue, not even his name ; that was a mystery 
 still unrevealed. 
 
 With half rapture and half sorrow she thought 
 of him, for her heart was full. Was it good-bye 
 for ever she wondered ? 
 
 Shadows and dreams of happiness had made up 
 her lonely life ; this perchance was only the flash 
 of a meteor, come and gone and lost like the 
 rest. 
 
 Then she remembered he was but a stranger. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 WHANKS. 
 
 Quietly the horse wended his way over the 
 smooth, firm sands. He might have been rider- 
 less for the interest that was taken in his move- 
 ments. The fright of crossing the water, together 
 with the severe treatment he had undergone, had 
 
12 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 reduced his spirits considerably, and he was con- 
 tent to make the homeward journey at a slow pace. 
 His master could have been in no haste, for spur 
 and whip were idle for once. 
 
 The rider’s thoughts were far away from the 
 scene around him. He had for a time forgotten 
 the rippling waves and the glories of the summer 
 day. He had forgotten his horse and dog, so each 
 went their own way. 
 
 Fancy had cast her glamour over him, making 
 futurity more bright even for him. Such thoughts 
 rarely if ever came to gladden his life. Hope had 
 never painted unfading happiness in his mind, and 
 no centre of special love had made his life an 
 earthly heaven. 
 
 But he could not forget the bright, beautiful girl, 
 with her wealth of short golden hair falling in loose 
 curls around her shapely head ; her soft, tender 
 eyes, raised so gently when she spoke ; the trusting, 
 winsome manner, so girlish, so exquisitely natural. 
 
 There was grace in every action of the supple 
 limbs, but it was when she smiled that her beauty 
 was the most attractive. He wondered, if she 
 was so beautiful now, what would her perfections 
 be later when maturity had completed nature’s 
 bounteous gifts. How grateful she had been to 
 him for saving her life, how warm in her gratitude 
 had been the grasp of her tiny hand. Then his 
 thoughts wandered to her loneliness, and he 
 wondered gravely why she was friendless amongst 
 strangers, and a feeling something akin to sympathy 
 came over him. 
 
 His heart was smitten, his admiration grew with 
 his thoughts of her, his passions were stirred to the 
 very depths of his nature, he almost loved the girl 
 with the golden hair. He must see her again, and 
 that soon. He must learn more about his newly- 
 
WHANKS. 
 
 13 
 
 found friend. Might she not be the one appointed 
 to gratify the one ambition of his hard, stern life? 
 He would try to win her for himself. Yet his 
 scheme might fail. The girl might be a ward in 
 Chancery, or there might be a guardian ready to 
 put his foot down to prevent the girl coming to 
 meet him. If she had had a father or mother 
 surely she would have mentioned them after her 
 narrow escape from death. 
 
 She was a lady, he was sure of that, although 
 her dress was simple and somewhat shabby. Per- 
 haps she was alone in the world — a girl with an 
 income just removed from starvation. 
 
 Dwell as he might on the fairest picture his life 
 had ever seen, deeper grew the mystery as to who 
 could be the lovely girl found on the Nab s Rock. 
 
 Emilio Castelli was by profession an equestrian 
 manager. He had filled that position for years in 
 many of the great Continental and English circuses. 
 He had been successful in all his undertakings, and 
 had made considerable sums of money from time 
 to time. He was now equestrian manager and 
 ringmaster at Devahs Royal Circus, besides which 
 he owned a troupe of performing horses which were 
 almost world renowned. These were the attraction 
 which filled the circus at every town they visited, 
 and Castelli drew large amounts from the treasury 
 every week. 
 
 He was a man who understood his duties 
 thoroughly, and he expected those brought into 
 contact with him to do the same. Those who 
 knew him in social life thought him cold, un- 
 friendly, and severe, and he was no favourite with 
 the artistes or those engaged about the circus. But 
 it was in his professional career that his full force 
 of character was delineated. If one of his eques- 
 trian pupils became faulty in his tricks the dark 
 
14 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 eyes grew brilliant with suppressed passion, his thin 
 lips grew set and white, his face became crimson 
 and then pale, and great purple veins stood out on 
 his broad forehead. Swiftly and with force he 
 would raise the long thonged whip and administer 
 cruel castigation for very slight errors. 
 
 To him an animal quivering with pain and 
 trembling with anguish was no uncommon sight. 
 He was hardened to the cruelty which embittered 
 the lives of the poor weary horses. Their tortures 
 and misery were nothing to him. Did they not 
 bring him gold? In his capacity as ringmaster 
 he showed little mercy, treating men and women 
 with the same severity. Once when a great lady 
 rider had come from a Continental circus, and all 
 the men about the place raved of her beauty and 
 her talents, he smiled at their infatuation and 
 treated the fair equestrian with scanty ceremony. 
 He was master of the ring, and he made her under- 
 stand that, and none dared to dispute his right. 
 
 But a simple girlish face had suddenly impressed 
 him, and for the first time in his life a woman’s 
 image lived in his mind to the exclusion of all else. 
 Extremes meet in some natures, and with a mighty 
 bound invade the heart with great force, thus 
 beginning a virtue or a vice. 
 
 Years before Emilio Castelli had made up his 
 mind that if he married he would marry a lady, 
 a woman far removed from the associations of the 
 ring, and this restless ambition had increased with 
 time, and now perhaps the opportunity had come 
 and the Fates would be propitious and give him 
 the girl he had rescued from the waves. But his 
 train of happy thoughts were interrupted. The 
 horse stumbled over a loose stone, and with an 
 oath Castelli checked him, and then awoke to the 
 fact that he was close to the town. He pulled out 
 
WHANKS. 15 
 
 his watch. It was growing late. He urged the 
 horse on more quickly. 
 
 ‘ If I am not there to the moment/ he mur- 
 mured, ‘ something is sure to go wrong.' Up the 
 crowded thoroughfare he rode, never slackening 
 his speed until he reached the street where he 
 lodged. Suddenly he reined in his horse, for in 
 the roadway there was gathered a motley crowd, 
 cheering two men who stood fighting in their 
 centre. One of them fell, and his antagonist was 
 upon him in a second. The roughs grew excited 
 and yelled out, — 
 
 ‘ Go it, Tim ! Lay on to him ! Keep him down ! 
 You’ve got him ! Give him gruel ! ’ 
 
 Some of the onlookers caught sight of the rider 
 and shouted to their comrades, — 
 
 ‘ Here’s the boss from the circuss. There’ll be 
 a darned good row now. Let’s clear out’ 
 
 Some of the wisest followed this advice, but 
 many lingered to see ‘ it out’ 
 
 In a moment Castelli realised that one of his 
 grooms was implicated in the quarrel. 
 
 ‘ What’s all this about ? ’ he shouted. ‘ Stand on 
 one side or I’ll ride over you,’ and suiting his action 
 to his word he turned the horse into their midst. 
 
 Scrambling, fighting for the path to ensure their 
 safety, they dispersed rapidly, but the two men 
 still remained in the road, Tim Baker resolute and 
 dogged, his companion lying on the ground, dust 
 begrimed and without his hat. 
 
 ‘ Get up, you fool ! ’ roared Castelli. ‘ Get up ! ’ 
 The man looked up at his angry master and tried 
 to rise. ‘ And clear out of the way, you blackguard ! ’ 
 he hissed, as he turned towards Tim Baker. 
 
 ‘ The road ain’t yours,’ replied the man sullenly. 
 ‘Your groom ain’t worth punching. Let him take 
 that and be .’ 
 
i6 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 He raised his heavy hobnailed boot to kick his 
 opponent, but Castelli was too quick for him. 
 
 ‘ Oh, that’s your game, is it ? Kick a man when 
 he’s drunk,’ and before the man could realise his 
 position Castelli had seized him by the collar, and 
 lifting him off his feet, swung him across the street, 
 where he fell into the gutter, whilst the loafing 
 crowd cheered heartily. One boy, to obtain a 
 better view, had climbed up a lamp post, and 
 called out, ‘ There’s beauty and the beast on a ’oss. 
 Three cheers for the circuss,’ after which refined 
 speech he slid to the ground. 
 
 Castelli rode up to his door and sent a boy to 
 his landlady to tell her he wanted her son to take 
 his horse to the stables at the circus. Then dis- 
 mounting, he waited for his man, who was coming 
 slowly up to where he stood. 
 
 ‘ Is the dog to come with the horse ? ’ asked a 
 youthful voice meekly, as if afraid to venture the 
 question. 
 
 ‘No; be off,’ replied Castelli shortly. ‘So you 
 can manage to walk straight now you’re master 
 has come home, can you, you drunken fool?’ he 
 said as the groom approached him. ‘ Come upstairs 
 to my room.’ 
 
 The man did not reply, but followed his master 
 to his apartments. 
 
 Castelli’s groom and personal attendant, known 
 in the circus by the name of Whanks, was a great 
 favourite with all of them. He had travelled with 
 many of the large circuses, and had visited all the 
 chief European cities. When he had been engaged 
 by Castelli, his name caused much amusement 
 amongst the artistes and in the stables. For a time 
 he put up with the banter, and then one evening 
 he told a group of his fellows why he was called 
 ‘Whanks.’ 
 
WHANKS. 
 
 1/ 
 
 ‘You may laugh and jeer at me/ he said, ‘but 
 there’s a sad reason why I like the name. Some 
 years ago I was one of the attendants belonging to 
 a celebrated troupe of acrobats. One of them, a 
 little fellow, became awfully fond of me — he were 
 a wee little chap, but spry, and sharp as a needle. 
 Sometimes I would take him oranges, apples or 
 cakes unbeknown to his trainer. One day after a 
 rehearsal he comes to me and says : “ Carl ” — I was 
 Carl then — “ Carl, when I was at home my father 
 called me ‘ Whanks.’ I loved him the best in all 
 the world, and when he died no one called me 
 ‘Whanks’ again. I love you, Carl, almost as 
 much as my father loved me, so may I call you 
 ‘ Whanks ’ ? Poor little fellow, he was only 
 nine years old, but after that he always called me 
 Whanks, and the rest of the troupe took it up. 
 One night when the “show” was on at a circus in 
 Vienna one of the bars snapped and Franz fell 
 with a thud to the sawdust beneath. He never 
 moved, but lay there like a log. They carried him 
 out, and he died in my arms. Once, just before the 
 last, he opened his eyes and said feebly : “ Whanks, 
 am I much hurt ? ” That was the only time he spoke. 
 You’ve jeered at the name a goodish deal, but 
 maybe you will not, now you know how I got at it.’ 
 
 The grooms and stablemen turned away, and 
 one or two of them murmured ‘ Poor little chap ! ’ 
 Soon the story spread, and no smile or sneer ever 
 betrayed itself to the owner of the dead child’s 
 name. 
 
 Whom Castelli’s Whanks had originally been no 
 one knew. He never mentioned, within anyone’s 
 recollection, either his father or mother, or where he 
 had been brought up. The only relation he ever 
 spoke of was an aged aunt, who had promised to leave 
 him what little money she possessed, together with 
 B 
 
1 8 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 her cottage and effects, and of this small prospective 
 fortune Whanks was never tired of talking. It was 
 his one thought, his daydream. His chums in the 
 circus were delighted to stand him ‘ drinks,’ for 
 then the estimation of his coming wealth rose con- 
 siderably, and much fun they had at the expense 
 of him and his money. Unfortunately these drinks 
 became very frequent, and his master had often 
 threatened to discharge him. But when he was sober 
 he was so useful and handy that he was forgiven and 
 retained. His love for children and animals was 
 excessive, and many a weary apprentice, both boys 
 and girls, owed a debt of gratitude to Whanks for 
 little acts of kindness shown them at their rehearsals. 
 Every horse and dog at the circus loved him, and 
 even ‘ Bruin ’ was more tractable with him, and 
 often when the great rough bear refused to enter 
 the ring to practise his tricks Whanks was called 
 upon to induce him to do as he was bidden, and 
 the animal became at once more docile. Thus 
 it was that Whanks was too handy about the 
 place to be dismissed. 
 
 Castelli knew his worth, but he never let his man 
 forget that he was master, and never spared him 
 for the sake of past good services. 
 
 When they reached Castelli’s apartments, his 
 master laid his riding-whip on the table, and then 
 turning to his man, fiercely asked, — 
 
 ‘ What the devil do you mean by getting tight ? 
 Can’t I leave you for an hour without your running 
 to the ‘‘ pub,” you besotted fool ? The sooner you 
 clear out of our show and drink yourself to death 
 the better ! ’ and he threw a look of disgust and 
 contempt upon the shrinking shamefaced man be- 
 fore him. 
 
 ‘ I couldn’t help myself, sir, indeed I couldn’t. 
 Even when I got outside that blessed “ pub ” I says, 
 
WHANKS. 19 
 
 “No, I won’t go in,” and the rest says, “ Whanks, 
 be a man ! ” 1 — ’ 
 
 ‘ A man, indeed,’ broke in Castelli ; ^ a beast you 
 mean/ 
 
 ‘ Begging your pardon, sir, I says to them, “ Not 
 to-day, mates,” and was a- moving off when one 
 of our stablemen says, “ One drink can’t hurt you, 
 Whanks, unless you’re a fool” ’ 
 
 ‘Just what you are,’ replied Castelli severely. 
 
 ‘ I can’t help it, sir ; them men worrits my life 
 out. All day long it’s “Whanks come here or 
 go there and give us a help,” till I’m blowed if 
 I knows what I am doing/ 
 
 ‘You know the way to that cursed bar fast 
 enough. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, 
 getting drunk and fighting in the street ; you’re 
 a disgrace to the show. What do you suppose 
 will be the end of it ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I wish I could tell you, sir, but I can’t, so there’s 
 an end to that. I makes up my mind I’ll never 
 take another glass, and I says to myself, “ I’ll 
 never get drunk again, never,” and then someone 
 comes along friendly like and I goes as far as the 
 “ pub ” corner with them, and they persuades me 
 against my will, sir, to have just one glass, and all 
 of a sudden like I feels like as if I was swimming 
 in the sea, and — ’ 
 
 The sea — that recalled the bright vision of the 
 afternoon to Castelli’s mind, and he exclaimed 
 angrily — 
 
 ‘ Here, stop that infernal rubbish, and do not 
 quote the sea to me. You tell me you can’t help 
 getting drunk, but look here,’ and he stepped quite 
 close to him, ‘ look here, you idiot, mark my words, 
 let me catch you drunk once again and out you go 
 neck and crop, remember that ; and now be off 
 to your work, you lazy, good-for-nothing loafer.’ 
 
20 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ I am very sorry, sir,' replied the man in a 
 penitent tone, and something like tears glistened 
 in his eyes. ‘ When I get my aunt's money 
 I shall — ' 
 
 ‘You and your blessed aunt go to blazes. Be 
 off, I tell you, or I will fling you down the stairs. 
 Go,' he roared, ‘ do you hear ? ' 
 
 The man walked to the door, and then he turned 
 a pathetic face to his infuriated master. 
 
 ‘You won't send me away this time, sir, will 
 you ? ' he pleaded. ‘ I couldn't leave you and the 
 horses and the old place. I'll never get drunk 
 again, sir, never.' 
 
 ‘ Once more, will you be gone, and shut the door 
 after you if you are sober enough.' 
 
 Whanks closed the door, and as he walked 
 slowly down the stairs he took a red handkerchief 
 from his pocket and wiped away the tears that ran 
 down his cheeks. ‘ The master’s right, I am a fool. 
 I've only got what I deserved ; but I can't leave 
 him, somehow I can't, although his tantrums are 
 awful to put up with. If I had only got my aunt's 
 money I'd never ask him for another blessed quid, 
 but I'd stay on at the show all the same.' 
 
 He sighed, and went heavy-hearted to his work. 
 His ‘ chums ' noticed his downcast looks, and they 
 guessed ‘there'd been a jolly big row between him 
 and his master,' but they wisely refrained from 
 alluding to the subject. 
 
 Castelli, having expended his wrath, sat down 
 to a hurried tea, and again his thoughts went back 
 to the fair girl he had met. He could not forget 
 her ; he wondered where she was, what she thought 
 of him, and if they should ever meet again. 
 
 ‘ It's time I had a wife, I think,' he said to him- 
 self. ‘What a beastly muddle everything is in. 
 I'm sick of it all.' 
 
LOOKING BACK. 
 
 21 
 
 Certainly his surroundings were not very pleas- 
 ing to the eye — sofas and chairs were strewn with 
 papers, circus bills, and posters, under the easy- 
 chair boots and shoes lay thrown together — it was 
 plain that no one ever tried to give the place a 
 look of home. It was unmistakably ‘apartments 
 for a single gentleman.' 
 
 Castelli pushed his cup from him, rose from the 
 table, lit a cigar, and started for the circus. In 
 another hour a delighted audience were witnessing 
 the performance of ‘ Castelli’s performing horses,' 
 and admiring their sleek coats and wonderful 
 feats, and a buzz of delight went round from stalls 
 to pit, and pit to the gallery. Their trainer, too, 
 came in for a share of the admiration so lavishly 
 offered. His winning smile, his graceful bearing, 
 the fascinating manner were positive pleasures to 
 his people, and when he offered some sugar to his 
 horses in the ring, and spoke to them so gently, 
 he received a perfect ovation, and then he looked 
 more handsome still, with a flush of triumph rest- 
 ing on his face. He was so kind the people 
 thought. Had they forgotten there was another 
 picture called Behind the Scenes? 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LOOKING BACK. 
 
 Leila Gurney having got rid of her saturated 
 garments, and having arrayed herself in a dress- 
 ing-gown, sat down in a low chair by the bedroom 
 window. The afternoon had been very adven- 
 
22 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 turous and fatiguing, so she wished to sit quietly 
 for a time to rest and think. 
 
 Before her stretched the pretty rustic garden, 
 from whence came sweet odours, borne on the 
 summer air, of roses, lilies, and lavender. Each 
 offered their fragrance and their beauty. 
 
 Generally these gifts of the bounteous earth 
 had given her the greatest pleasure, but they were 
 unheeded now. She was wondering what would 
 have been said had her dead body been washed up 
 on the shore at the ebb-tide. She tried to picture 
 how her father would have received the news, and 
 if he would have cared so very much. Perhaps he 
 would have grieved a little when he heard she was 
 dead. Then her thoughts reverted to her brother 
 Tom — dear, faithful, loving Tom ! She could 
 imagine him reading her father s letter telling him 
 of the accident, and in foreign lands alone he 
 would mourn and fret for a sister very dearly 
 loved. It was the one joy of her life to know how 
 his heart yearned towards her. 
 
 More serious thoughts followed, and she leant 
 back in her chair and rested her head upon her 
 small white hand. Supposing she had been drowned, 
 where would she have been now? It was difficult 
 for her to realise what the boundary between life 
 and death must be. She could form no idea of 
 the great void where the soul speeds on its last 
 flight. And yet how near she had been to that 
 awful veil which separates this world from the 
 realms beyond the grave. She shuddered at the 
 thought of the stillness of death, of her youth and 
 life nearly lost, with only eternity in all its vague- 
 ness before her when earthly hopes had perished. 
 
 She was young enough not to wish for the pure 
 and perfect rest of heaven. She had no longing for 
 the land where all is gladness and the weary cease 
 
LOOKING BACK. 
 
 23 
 
 to sigh. If her life had been like a sail in a storm, 
 the brightness of youth had made happy beams, 
 and she had no wish to die. How thankful she 
 was that the dark cloud which overshadowed the 
 future had rolled away and left her life — she was 
 so young to die. 
 
 There had been times when Leila Gurney would 
 have resigned her life without a sigh ; days upon 
 which no light seemed to break through the gloom ; 
 hours when her lonely agony seemed too intense 
 to be borne. She would have left life in those 
 days willingly, but now she was changed. Some- 
 thing seemed to have come over her suddenly, just 
 as the sun shines after the storm has passed. 
 
 Was not this change due to the young and hand- 
 some man who had inspired her with such admira- 
 tion? To herself she wondered why she felt so 
 interested in him, and why she could not forget his 
 gracious smiles and kindly words of sympathy. 
 
 It was the first spark of love, but she did not 
 know it as yet, when it was a pleasant dream, but 
 the spell would break some day, and the bud 
 spread and open its petals to the light, and then it 
 would blossom into all the beauties of true love. 
 
 But she would have smiled if Cupid had 
 whispered ‘it is Love.’ 
 
 Leila Gurney was just eighteen years of age ; 
 her life had been very far from happy — trouble 
 had played a far more prominent part than joy 
 or innocent pleasures, which girlhood has the right 
 to demand. Her father, Charles Gurney, had been 
 a very prosperous stockbroker, living in a good- 
 sized house in Weymouth Street, Portland Place. 
 When Leila and her brother Tom, two years her 
 junior, were children, every luxury and indulgence 
 was showered upon them by their fond father. 
 
 He had been past middle life when he brought 
 
24 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 his handsome bride to Weymouth Street. But no 
 young lover could have bestowed half the love 
 and care upon his sweetheart that Charles Gurney 
 did upon his young wife. Her wishes were his 
 first consideration, her whims and fancies the 
 pleasure of his life to gratify. Nothing was too 
 much trouble to win her thanks or gain a smile 
 from her lips. He was blind to all her faults, and 
 when he came to find that she loved pleasure 
 seeking abroad more than her home, and that 
 admiration from the outside world delighted her 
 better than his genuine praise, he put it down 
 to being ‘only natural’ for one so young and 
 beautiful, and he consented ungrudgingly to any- 
 thing which made her happy. 
 
 She was his life, his all, and when a daughter 
 was born to him he gave it none of the affection 
 which he considered due to the mother. His love 
 for the child was great because it was hers, but 
 the baby girl must not steal the attentions which 
 belonged solely to her mother. Her husband had 
 wished that the child should be called Ida, because 
 it had been his mother’s name, and her memory 
 was very precious to him ; but his wife had fixed 
 her mind on Leila, and as in all things his wife 
 had her way the child was christened Leila. Her 
 selfishness was so great that she would not even 
 add his choice of a name to hers. She hated 
 the idea of her husband interfering ; besides, what 
 was his mother to her ? It never struck her that 
 love for the son should surely engender some 
 respect for the woman he called mother. In 
 spite of all his love, and care, all his efforts to 
 make her life one perpetual ray of sunshine, she 
 would not please him by calling her child, and 
 his, by the name he loved so dearly. At first 
 her refusal vexed him considerably, but he 
 
LOOKING BACK. 
 
 25 
 
 banished from his mind any unkindly thoughts 
 which arose. After all, a woman had every right 
 to call her daughter by the name she liked the 
 best, and Leila was very poetical and pretty, and 
 so the shadow passed away. He had one hope, 
 however, and that was that the baby girl would 
 be the means of keeping his wife more at home. 
 He was so fond of a domestic life that the con- 
 stant round of pleasures had become the bane of 
 his existence. But the advent of the child, he 
 found, made no difference to the mother’s gay life, 
 and when two years afterwards a boy, Tom, was 
 born, to his inexpressible grief, he saw the two 
 children growing up left entirely to the charge 
 of servants. 
 
 Graver trouble, however, was at hand. His in- 
 come, although large, was not sufficient for constant 
 extravagances, and at a time of life when he should 
 have been enjoying more rest he had to redouble 
 his energies and work harder to meet the constant 
 demands made upon him for his wife’s debts. He 
 at last took a partner to help him, and for a time 
 matters seemed brighter, and Charles Gurney 
 hoped to pull another fortune together, for the 
 sake of the woman who kept him toiling that 
 she might spend and make merry. 
 
 But a very dark day was approaching, a day when 
 he came home to find his wife fled — gone to her 
 destruction and ruin, desecrating the sacred name 
 of wife, and leaving a curse, and a shame almost 
 too heavy to be borne by the husband and hapless 
 children. 
 
 She had chosen in preference to her home, and 
 to the purity of his love, the villainous overtures 
 of her husband’s partner. The tall, handsome, 
 brilliant Herbert Clifford had come between her 
 and those who had loved her so tenderly. 
 
26 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 With winning smiles the seducer had won her 
 from her vows, he had flattered her, offered her 
 false words of devotion. It was nothing to him 
 that she was giving up home, husband, and chil- 
 dren. He did not care if in the after years she 
 cursed him for teaching her to sin. She would be 
 disgraced for ever, he knew that, but the pleasure 
 would be his, the penalty hers alone. 
 
 She forgot the retribution to come. His fair 
 speeches made her forget to think of a day when 
 the villain would tire of his victim, and leave her 
 alone to face the cruel coldness of the world — a 
 woman branded with shame as the faithless wife, 
 the dishonoured mother. 
 
 Leila Gurney was fifteen years of age, and her 
 brother Tom thirteen, when the terrible trouble 
 fell upon them. Both were old enough to realise 
 the horror of their position. A certain sympathy 
 was bestowed on them for the loss of their mother, 
 but it was -not the same kind of feeling which 
 neighbours show when death has left children to 
 mourn for those they loved. There were no tender 
 words, no shake of the hand, no eyes dimmed with 
 tears, and no offers of help were made to the lonely 
 girl and boy. 
 
 The people who had been such dear friends of 
 their mother were very sorry for them, but they 
 kept aloof themselves, and took care that their 
 children did the same. 
 
 These slights wounded Leila’s and Tom’s sensi- 
 tive natures most cruelly, and to avoid the gaze 
 of the curious they sat together alone, and only 
 ventured out when the stars shone and the dark- 
 ness grew over the great city. Their father’s love 
 for his erring wife turned to the bitterest hate ; the 
 channels of his heart, through which such adoration 
 had coursed, were choked with anger, disappoint- 
 
LOOKING BACK. 
 
 27 
 
 ment, and revenge. He had been so devoted to 
 her that the loss seemed doubly cruel. She had 
 deserted him after all the sacrifices he had made 
 for her happiness. 
 
 He never attempted to trace the fugitives ; he 
 lost heart, health, and spirits. His business grew 
 neglected, he showed no more love for home or 
 children, he cared no longer how his affairs went. 
 Was he not disgraced in the eyes of all the world ? 
 But there was one feeling which remained — a feel- 
 ing of revenge, if such it could be called. His wife 
 had dishonoured him and left him for another, but 
 that other should never be able to bestow his name 
 upon her ; such as she had become she should re- 
 main to the end of her life. He would not divorce 
 her, he would not give her her freedom. She had 
 brought shame on the name of Gurney, let her 
 bear it and no other to her death, and to this 
 resolve he was steadfast. 
 
 Matters became worse, money came in slowly, 
 and then he called his girl and boy together and 
 told them he was a ruined man, that the home 
 must be broken up at once, that delay would only 
 make things worse for them all, and that Tom 
 could not return to Harrow, and that he must put 
 out of his mind all hopes of Oxford. 
 
 A few days later they bade good-bye to the only 
 home they had ever known, and life began in a 
 country cottage, with their father and one servant. 
 Briarhill was a lonely, dull spot far away from the 
 haunts of man. There they could eke out their 
 fallen fortunes unknown to those who had been 
 their friends in prosperous days. An old church, 
 an ancient grammar school, and a cluster of houses 
 formed the small town, if it could be called by such 
 a name. The inhabitants had known each other 
 all their lives, and were not prepared to venture on 
 
28 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 acquaintance with strangers. This suited Charles 
 Gurney, who had become morose and gloomy — 
 sitting hours in the tiny garden smoking, and never 
 addressing a word to those about him. Fortun- 
 ately for his children the greatest love existed 
 between them, and they helped each other to bear 
 their troubles bravely. Tom was sent to the 
 grammar school by his father, but Leila was left 
 to her own devices until the evening, when her 
 brother devoted his time to her education. 
 
 But after a while the story of his mother’s sin 
 leaked out, and his schoolfellows chaffed him con- 
 tinually. Being proud and haughty, he resented 
 this treatment. One day the affair came to a 
 crisis. He turned on his tormentors, and fought 
 for his name and his honour. One boy in par- 
 ticular, the bully of the school, came in for such 
 treatment at Tom’s hands as he had never experi- 
 enced before. He did not appear at school again 
 for a week, but Charles Gurney was requested to 
 remove his son from the school. 
 
 For months after this Tom wandered about at 
 home utterly miserable and sick at heart. At last 
 he wrote to an old Harrow schoolfellow, whose 
 father was a Transvaal merchant and had started 
 a store at Malan, on the road from Durban to 
 Pretoria. This merchant knew the actual position 
 of the youth, and felt keenly for his sufferings. 
 Thinking he would do better away from surround- 
 ings which made him dwell on his family disgrace, 
 he offered to take him as an assistant to his 
 manager at the store, where everything, from a 
 drink to a pair of boots, was sold to the Boers and 
 travellers. 
 
 When Charles Gurney was asked if he could 
 spare his son he replied in the affirmative, but with 
 such careless grace was the consent given that Tom 
 
LOOKING BACK. 
 
 29 
 
 felt his absence would be a pleasure rather than 
 a pain to his father. He knew why, for often in 
 the glad days he had praised Tom for his likeness 
 to his mother. ‘YouVe more like her/ he would 
 say, 'than your sister. Just her eyes and expres- 
 sion, Tom, my boy.’ 
 
 Was it any wonder that his father no longer 
 wished that ever living picture to be daily before 
 him, reminding him of his beautiful wife, now 
 worse than dead to him ? 
 
 Before Tom sailed he made his sister a vow that, 
 if he lived so long, he would come home when he 
 was older and take revenge on the man who brought 
 about the ruin of all their hopes and happiness. 
 
 After her brother had left Leila began to droop. 
 She became tired and weary of the awful monotony, 
 worse a thousand times since Tom had gone; there 
 were no long walks for her now, all day she 
 wandered about alone. Her father never talked 
 to her, indeed he seemed to ignore her presence. 
 At last she grew so ill and weak as to attract the 
 attention of the doctor, who had been called in to 
 see her father upon two occasions. 
 
 ' Gurney, if you don’t send your daughter to the 
 seaside I am afraid she will go into a decline ; her 
 case seems to me critical. Can’t you manage it ?’ 
 
 So spoke Dr Burton one fine sunny day in 
 early June. 
 
 ' It’s no use telling me that,’ replied Charles 
 Gurney. ' I’ve no one to send her with, and then 
 it is expensive, and my income is so very limited. 
 I can’t do it, doctor,’ he continued irritably. 
 
 ‘ I am afraid you will have to use your income 
 to bury her, then, very shortly, and as to having no 
 one to send her with, I can manage that. Let her 
 go to Sandcliffe; it’s a quiet place, and she can have 
 rooms with an old servant of mine who is married 
 
30 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 and has a pretty cottage there. My wife and the 
 little ones went there two years ago ; everything is 
 cheap, clean, and comfortable. May I arrange that, 
 Gurney, so as to save you time and trouble ? ’ 
 
 He pleaded hard for the delicate, lonely girl, 
 who was fretting her life away in such uncongenial 
 surroundings. 
 
 ‘ If you like to take the trouble, of course you 
 can. I sha’n’t. I should think there’s too much 
 of the mother in the girl to make it desirable 
 to send her away alone to the seaside,’ he added 
 ungraciously. 
 
 So it was decided, and a few days later she was 
 enjoying the bracing air of Sandcliffe, happier in 
 mind, healthier in body. She had written to Tom 
 such a long letter, and sent him, with her love, five 
 pounds, just half the cheque put into her hands by 
 the good doctor’s wife the day she left. 
 
 ‘ There are lots of little things you may need, 
 my dear,’ Mrs Burton had said, ‘and that will make 
 you less troublesome to your father.’ 
 
 The girl had blushed, stammered her thanks, and 
 shed a tear or two at the unexpected kindness, and 
 gone her way — a way so free, so unfettered, that 
 health and spirits would soon return to the young 
 life, at least so the doctor and his wife hoped, for 
 they pitied her deeply. 
 
 But father and friends were soon to be forgotten. 
 Had not a bright star arisen, which lighted her 
 path and left all else in gloom ? It shone upon 
 her mind, her heart, her very inmost soul. She 
 could see nothing else, think of nothing but the 
 radiant future before her. 
 
 But the star might wane, and what of the dark- 
 ness then ? Would it not be terrible after the 
 shining light? 
 
 It shone — she never dreamt of the waning. 
 
MAKING AN ENEMY. 
 
 31 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MAKING AN ENEMY. 
 
 Three or four weeks had sped their course since 
 Leila had been rescued from the Nab’s Head Rock. 
 To her it had been a very happy time, for Castelli 
 had been her daily companion. Somehow or 
 other he had found out the time of her strolls, and 
 whenever possible had ridden over to Sandcliffe. 
 It was an acquaintance which grew unconsciously; 
 their appreciation of each other’s society had so 
 far been of a tacit nature. 
 
 She had been so lonely, so weary of her 
 monotonous life that she had come to recognise 
 him as a delightful companion. It was so pleasant 
 to have someone to make her a consideration and 
 to plan pleasures to cheer at least some hours of 
 the solitary days. 
 
 One August morning he had ridden over on 
 ‘ Rubicon,’ bringing with him ‘Athol ’ and Whanks. 
 When he arrived at Sandcliffe sands he dismounted, 
 and calling his dog, he dispatched Whanks with 
 the horses to the village inn, then he sauntered 
 along the beach to the trysting place. She was 
 there before him. Truly she was a picture fit for 
 the canvas of some great artist, he thought, as he 
 advanced towards her, with her plain dress of pure 
 white, unrelieved by colour excepting a bunch of 
 crimson roses placed in her girdle, and her large 
 hat, with the golden curls just resting on her 
 classic brow. 
 
 He thought her most beautiful as she came 
 forward to meet him, with a blush mantling her 
 happy face, and giving a lustre to her wondrous 
 eyes. 
 
32 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 He would like to have kissed her, but he con- 
 trolled the wish. 
 
 ' Good morning, Leila.^ He raised his hat, and 
 gave her one of his winning smiles, as he gazed 
 at her with fond admiration. ‘ I have not kept 
 you waiting. I want a long chat with you to-day. 
 What do you say if we stroll on towards the Downs ? 
 Are you tired ? ' 
 
 ‘ Oh, no,’ she replied gleefully, for was not the 
 prospect of a walk with him the one bliss of her 
 cheerless life. ‘ But where is Rubicon,” ’ she added 
 suddenly. ‘ Have you and Athol ” walked from 
 Bayhaven ? What a lovely creature he is. I love 
 him so much.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you ? ’ he asked, smiling again. ‘ “Athol ” is 
 lucky to have won your love, but you see he is 
 crab hunting now, and I fear does not appreciate 
 the honour so much as he should. My groom has 
 “ Rubicon ” up at the inn. I wanted to be free to- 
 day. In the meantime he will have a feed of corn 
 before his journey home.’ 
 
 Together on the shingly beach, under the 
 steep rugged cliffs they sauntered, he holding 
 her hand for fear she should trip. Suddenly he 
 paused. 
 
 ‘ Leila, let us sit down.’ There was something 
 unusual in his tone, and she looked up into his face. 
 She saw then how grave he was. They sat on 
 a flat waterworn stone, and then he explained to 
 her very gently who he was, and his occupation. 
 She listened attentively, and he was delighted to 
 find that* her smile did not fade, that no disappoint- 
 ment or disgust overshadowed her face. When he 
 ceased speaking she replied, — 
 
 ‘ How clever you must be to ride in a circus. I 
 have been to several, but not since I grew up. May 
 I come to Bayhaven and see the circus there, and all 
 
MAKING AN ENEMY. 33 
 
 your horses? I should so enjoy it/ she added with 
 emphasis. 
 
 ‘Some day, Leila. You must wait just a little 
 while. You see there is no train to bring you 
 home. It must be some time when I can drive you 
 back. Would you like that ? ' 
 
 ‘ Yes/ she answered quietly. 
 
 His voice sounded like music to her ears, so rich, 
 so gentle, yet so firm and kind. 
 
 ‘ Leila,’ he continued, ‘ I have grown very fond of 
 you, very fond, and knowing that I belong to a 
 circus, do you think you could return me some 
 affection, or would my profession debar me from 
 all such hope } All my future happiness depends 
 upon your reply. In society, I know, we are 
 counted as outcasts, but we have hearts, all the 
 same, and can love despite the sawdust and the 
 ring.’ 
 
 He stopped speaking and looked to see what 
 effect his words had upon his lovely companion. 
 He showed none of the nervousness of an ardent 
 love. He waited her reply calmly, and with a 
 quiet dignity worthy of a king. 
 
 She did not answer for a moment, but her cheeks 
 grew crimson, and she toyed restlessly with some 
 stones she had picked up whilst he was speaking. 
 
 ‘ There is nothing wrong in being engaged in a 
 circus, is there ? ’ she asked archly. ‘ I should like 
 it beyond anything. I love horses and riding, but,’ 
 and she became very shy, ‘ I do /ike you very, very 
 much.’ 
 
 He kissed her as she spoke, and she did not 
 resist it. 
 
 ‘ Can you change “ like ” into “ love,” Leila ? ’ he 
 asked. ‘ That is what I want to know.’ 
 
 ‘Yes/ she answered, getting still more confused 
 ‘ but — ’ 
 
 C 
 
34 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ But what, my beauty ? ’ he asked, putting his 
 arm around her and drawing her closer to him. 
 
 ‘There’s Tom,’ she added. ‘I always tell Tom 
 everything. You know how I love him,’ she said 
 simply. 
 
 He had foreseen this difficulty and had his reply 
 ready. 
 
 ‘ Don’t you think Tom would be glad to hear 
 you were comfortably married ? Do you not sup- 
 pose it would be a great anxiety off his mind to 
 know his sister was happy ? Leila, he would advise 
 you to marry the man you love if he were here. 
 That should be sufficient guide for you.’ 
 
 ‘ But I should like to ask him before I decide to 
 return your love. I must write to Tom, indeed 
 I must.’ 
 
 ‘ Leila, dearest Leila, won’t you be my wife, and 
 let me care for you and love you ? It will be time 
 enough to tell Tom and your father when we are 
 man and wife.’ 
 
 She shook her head gravely. 
 
 ‘ It will not do. I could not deceive Tom for all 
 the world.’ 
 
 ' Is that your determination ? ’ he asked her 
 severely. 
 
 She noticed the change in his voice, but she held 
 firmly to her desire. 
 
 ‘Yes, I am quite determined, quite. I can do 
 nothing without Tom’s advice.’ 
 
 ‘ So you will risk my happiness and yours for the 
 sake of a boy’s opinion. He cannot know what is 
 best for you. Once more, my darling, will you be 
 my wife ? ’ 
 
 ‘ If Tom says “ Yes,” ’ she replied resolutely. 
 
 He knew she was too fond of him to withstand 
 his offer very long. He must marry her before her 
 brother or father got any idea of the affair or he 
 
MAKING AN ENEMY. 
 
 35 
 
 felt sure she would never be his wife at all. He 
 must use diplomacy in the matter at once or he 
 would lose the chance within his grasp. 
 
 ‘So you won’t trust me/ he replied sternly, 
 getting up from his seat. ‘ If you loved me as I 
 love you no one in the world would stand between 
 us. I am terribly hurt, Leila. All the joy has 
 gone out of my life.’ 
 
 ‘Don’t say that, Emilio, please don’t,’ and she 
 rose and stood by his side. ‘ Don’t be vexed with 
 me, but I love Tom so much.’ 
 
 ‘ Better than you do me, that is plain enough. 
 Under those conditions we had better say good- 
 bye.’ 
 
 He turned and faced her. She saw how white 
 and stern he looked, and she already repented of 
 her words. 
 
 ‘ Is it to be good-bye ? ’ he repeated somewhat 
 gently. ‘ Is it, Leila? ’ 
 
 ‘No,’ she added sadly, ‘no, not good-bye. I 
 could not bear that ; it would kill me. Don’t go. 
 Emilio, forgive me.’ 
 
 He kissed her again and again, and in the first 
 flush of her youthful love she promised to keep 
 Tom and her father in ignorance of her engage- 
 ment. 
 
 She was so inexperienced, so afraid of losing 
 the only man who had ever loved her, and there 
 was no loving motherly hand to guide her, no one 
 to bid her beware. 
 
 ‘ We will make this spot a rendezvous for the 
 next few days, Leila. I do not think it would be 
 wise for me to go to Green’s Cottages to see you, 
 but my man can bring you messages and my letters 
 to you ; the replies you can return by him. It is best 
 to arrange that, then there will be no curiosity at 
 the post office. For the present our arrangements 
 
36 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 must be kept dark, for your sake, do you under- 
 stand me?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes/ she replied hesitatingly ; ‘ but why cannot 
 you call on me ? My cousin’s fiance always came 
 to dinner and tea, and spent long evenings with 
 her, and, anyhow, your man will know me if he 
 comes to the house.’ 
 
 ‘Your cousin did not live alone, darling, as you 
 do, and as for my man, well, he will be sworn to 
 secrecy. He will have full directions to ask for you 
 and come straight up into your sitting-room. Do not 
 fear him, he is safe enough ; but do not offer him 
 beer or wine on any account, for Whanks is too 
 fond of his glass.’ 
 
 ‘ Whanks ! what a name ! ’ 
 
 He told her the story of the name ‘Whanks,’ 
 and she sighed and determined to be his friend 
 even before she had seen him. 
 
 ‘Well, Leila, the time goes on, I must be off. 
 There’s an afternoon performance, and I am due 
 at the circus at half-past two. Good-bye, my 
 darling, my pet ! Kiss me Leila ; you are mine for 
 ever.’ 
 
 What a glorious light came into his dark eyes ! 
 What rapture was there as he spoke so tenderly 
 and kindly ! How happy she was ! She forgot the 
 deception, the vile secrecy imposed upon her. Was 
 not his love all the world to her ? What was there 
 she would not have done to win his smile ? 
 
 ‘ Good-bye, Emilio. Will you take this rose and 
 wear it for my sake ? ’ She pulled the only white 
 one she had from among the crimson. ‘ I love 
 white roses, they are my favourite flowers. I will 
 give or send you one every day. Will you wear it, 
 dear } ’ 
 
 ‘ Always darling. Every night when I go into 
 the ring I will wear your love token. The pure 
 
MAKING AN ENEMY. 
 
 37 
 
 rose, Leila, shall remind me of your promise to-day. 
 I will use this one to-night ; it is but a bud, so it 
 will not fade so quickly as would the open flower, 
 and to-morrow you will send me another — is that 
 so ? * 
 
 ‘Yes, every day until the months of roses are 
 over.’ 
 
 ‘By that time I hope I shall have claimed my 
 own white rose,’ and he kissed her most affection- 
 ately. 
 
 He took the flower and went his way. 
 
 Her love was in the beauty of its prime, her 
 joy ecstatic. The present and the future were 
 crowned with glorious hopes, and pictured with 
 fond delight. 
 
 But hopes are sometimes like butterflies, that 
 rise on the breath of fancy whenever the sunbeams 
 lure them. 
 
 Signor Emilio Castelli was happy in his love for 
 Leila Gurney. He had been engaged to her nearly 
 a fortnight, during which time he and Whanks 
 had paid many visits to Sandcliffe. It wanted 
 nearly half-an-hour before the evening perform- 
 ance, but Castelli had gone to the circus early to 
 see one of his valuable horses which was a little 
 out of condition. He was sitting in a small 
 office, which he shared with two other showmen, 
 thinking of Leila. Outside there was heard 
 horses’ feet, and a general running to and fro, 
 then an angry voice was raised and oaths fell 
 plentifully, a crack of a whip and boy’s cry of 
 pain. Castelli was used to such things, and they 
 did not dispel his thoughts ; he was in no hurry, 
 he was already dressed for the ring, with a white 
 rosebud in his coat. 
 
 Whilst he was thinking of Leila, ‘ Cleo,’ the 
 celebrated tight-rope artiste, was wondering why 
 
38 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 CastelU had changed so much towards her, and 
 to-night she had determined to find out. She 
 sat on the bare wooden table in a dressing- 
 room allotted to her and a female acrobat. Her 
 partner’s ‘ turn ’ did not come on till late, so 
 Cleo had the room to herself. She was a fine, 
 handsome woman, about twenty-five years of 
 age ; and her beauty had rendered her popular 
 wherever she appeared. In figure and face 
 she was considered perfection, whilst her wit 
 and repartee had made her a great favourite in 
 the circus. 
 
 Bayhaven was partial to equestrian perform- 
 ances, and the circus proprietor had put up a 
 temporary building for the season, and to it 
 flocked both residents and visitors. 
 
 Cleo had attracted a great deal of attention 
 and her ‘ show ’ had been one of the successes of 
 the season. Three years before, she had met 
 Castelli in a circus in Liverpool. She fell desper- 
 ately in love with him, and for a time he seemed 
 to return it, as she thought, for he humoured her 
 fancies and spent much time in her company. 
 But when the circus closed for the season, and 
 they each went to new engagements, she was 
 bitterly disappointed that he did not ask her to 
 be his wife. Castelli had never dreamt of marry- 
 ing the ‘ greatest tight-rope walker in Europe.’ 
 She was beautiful, it was true, but vulgar, 
 coarse, and passionate, and his dreams were of 
 a lady gentle and refined. 
 
 Cleo threw a long black cloak, lined with fur, 
 over her bespangled tights, and then crossed the 
 sawdust spread passage to Castelli’s room. In 
 answer to his response she opened the door. 
 
 ‘ Halloa, Castelli, all alone ? Did you ever feel 
 such infernal draughts as there are in this place ? 
 
MAKING AN ENEMY. 
 
 39 
 
 Matchbox partitions, nothing but matchbox,' and 
 she closed the door behind her. ‘ My gracious ! 
 what is that?' she exclaimed. ‘Why, if it ain’t 
 a dog tied to the leg of the table ! Is that for 
 me, Castelli ? What a little sight to be sure ! Oh, 
 I suppose it is one of Zaro’s performing dogs, 
 is it?’ 
 
 ‘No, it’s mine,' replied Castelli, not too well 
 pleased at being disturbed. 
 
 ‘ YourSy that fluffy white thing — where’s Athol 
 then ? ' 
 
 ‘ At home,' he replied curtly. 
 
 ‘ I say, Castelli, guess what I have got for you.' 
 
 ‘ I can’t guess. What a damned fool you are, 
 Cleo ! ' 
 
 ‘ Oh, that’s the tone, is it? You want to be off 
 with the old love, do you, for the new?’ and she 
 laughed impudently. 
 
 She had been sure there was somebody else held 
 in preference to her, for Castelli had worn the 
 same kind of flower in his buttonhole every night. 
 She knew some lady must be the donor. 
 
 ‘ Be quiet,' he exclaimed angrily ; ‘ you’re not 
 the old love, anyhow, and I’m hanged if you are 
 the new ! ' 
 
 ‘ Oh, so there is a new, is there ? That’s the 
 game ! Who’s the girl ? ' 
 
 Her eyes had become more brilliant as she 
 spoke, and Castelli tried to turn the subject off 
 with a joke. 
 
 ‘Well, we won't quarrel,' she said, assuming her 
 natural tone, ‘will we, dear? Now, will you wear 
 this to please me to-night?' and she took from 
 under her cloak a buttonhole of exotic flowers. 
 ‘ They will suit you better than that white rose.' 
 
 She held it towards him, but he refused to take 
 it from her. 
 
40 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ I shall wear the one I have, and none other,’ 
 he said. 
 
 In a moment, like a flash of fire, her passion and 
 indignation burst forth. 
 
 ‘ Will you, I vow you sha’n’t,’ and she stepped 
 close up to him, quivering in every limb with 
 violent excitement. Before he was aware she 
 had caught hold of his coat in her eager desire 
 to snatch the flower from its place. In an 
 instant he resisted her with all his great physical 
 power and flung her from him. 
 
 ‘ What she-cat gave you those roses ? ’ she 
 screamed. ‘You’ve been glad enough to wear 
 my flowers before to-night. Fve the right to 
 know who gave you the white rose — tell me, do 
 you hear, you treacherous man ? ’ Her breath came 
 fast and strong as she gasped : ‘ Answer me, do 
 you understand me, Castelli ? ’ 
 
 Her face was distorted, defiant, and maddened 
 with rage ; it seemed as if the very devil was 
 before him. The flowers she had brought had 
 fallen to the ground. He saw them lying there 
 in all their delicate beauty, but ruthlessly he put 
 out his foot and crushed the petals into a shape- 
 less mass. 
 
 ‘ There are your flowers, and if you don’t get 
 out of this room I’ll thrash you as I would a 
 houiid. Get out, or by heaven I’ll keep my word.’ 
 
 ‘You villain ! You hypocrite ! You — ’ 
 
 But further conversation was put a stop to by 
 the bell ringing for the first ‘ turn.’ He put her 
 out of his way as if she were a dog, and taking up 
 his long whip from the table, went into the ring, 
 smiling as he did so. 
 
 Cleo, left alone, foiled, baffled, and exhausted, 
 devoured and pained by jealousy, was convinced 
 that her doubts were right, and that Castelli, the 
 
MAKING AN ENEMY. 
 
 41 
 
 only man she loved, had passed her by for another. 
 But how could she prove it? That was the diffi- 
 culty. Sauntering to her room, she saw Whanks 
 standing helping the grooms to get ready Castellfs 
 performing horses. In a moment an idea struck 
 her. If she could only get Whanks on her side 
 the rest would be easy enough. Her passion was 
 gone now, but her eyes still retained their bright 
 steely look, as if a hidden revenge was lurking 
 behind her artificial smile. 
 
 She went up to Whanks softly and asked, — 
 
 ‘ Whanks, shall you be busy to-morrow ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Depends on the master, miss. I might have 
 a minute or so to spare. I ain’t sure.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish you would come round to my place. I 
 want a job done to some rope. Can you come, do 
 you think ? ’ 
 
 ‘ ril do my best, miss, and leastways I can ask 
 the master, when he comes out of the ring after the 
 horses has performed, and let you know what time 
 he can best spare me, miss.’ 
 
 Whanks had often been allowed by Castelli 
 to do odd jobs for Cleo, and so the request did 
 not astonish him. 
 
 ‘ Don’t trouble to ask your master, Whanks. 
 I’d rather you did not Just run round to me after 
 morning rehearsal if you can.’ 
 
 ‘ Right you are, miss. I’ll try and come as nigh 
 to one o’clock as I can,’ and the man touched his 
 hat respectfully. 
 
 Castelli passed her as he left the ring, but he 
 never glanced at her, and the white rose was still 
 in his coat. 
 
 ‘ To-morrow, wait until to-morrow,’ she mur- 
 mured, ‘ and I’ll find out his game. Trust me for 
 that I’m not quite the fool he takes me for.’ 
 
 She had planned her revenge. 
 
42 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 A WEEK had passed. Cleo had been very cautious 
 in all her plans. Whanks had been enticed to her 
 rooms under various pretexts. She had given him 
 sufficient to drink, but not enough to make him 
 intoxicated, for had that occurred she knew that 
 his master would question him, and that would ill 
 suit her purpose. 
 
 To Castelli she was particularly attentive, meet- 
 ing him with a smile, and being more gracious than 
 usual ; neither by tone nor manner did she betray 
 that he had offended her. 
 
 But the time was passing, and every day her 
 chances of seeing Whanks alone grew less, as 
 Castelli might find out his visits, then the game 
 would be up. 
 
 One afternoon she sent for Whanks, and deter- 
 mined it should be a final visit. She gave him 
 small quantities of whisky and water, not much at 
 a time, but little by little, which had the effect of 
 making him muddled, yet he was sufficiently sober 
 to understand her questions and to give coherent 
 replies. 
 
 When he was off his guard she began with great 
 dexterity to find out all the particulars she wished 
 to know regarding Castelli. 
 
 ‘You’re away a good deal from the rehearsals 
 lately, Whanks, I suppose you are engaged in the 
 stables more ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, I has more business out of the circus 
 altogether now, very particular, for the master. I 
 haven’t time to go into the stables neither,’ added 
 the man, with an air of grandeur. 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 43 
 
 ‘ It’s nice to be trusted with particular “ bis ” for 
 the master ; it shows he relies on you/ she replied 
 cunningly, 
 
 ‘ Ay, he trusts me fast enough. Ah, I know a 
 thing or two, bless your heart, I know a thing or 
 two ! ’ and he laughed stupidly. 
 
 ‘ I daresay you know a good many things, 
 Whanks/ she responded gently. 
 
 She tried to appear unconcerned, in case her 
 curiosity should become too pointed. 
 
 ‘ I rather think I do, Miss Cleo. Ay, the 
 master is a funny one,’ he continued, half drowsy, 
 ‘very funny. He’s on with one, and then another, 
 and I’ve enough to do going his errints.’ 
 
 ‘ You have to go a long way for him, I suppose ? ’ 
 she asked with skilful indifference. 
 
 ‘ Well, I do now and again.’ 
 
 Although his comprehension was somewhat 
 dulled, he retained sufficient control over himself 
 to be a little on his guard. 
 
 Cleo saw this, and she refilled his glass. Another 
 drink would bring him up to the point. As she 
 anticipated, he became more talkative after the last 
 and stronger glass of whisky. 
 
 ‘Yes, I has to go to Sandcliffe most days when 
 the master don’t go hisself. First there’s a dog to be 
 took, then a boss for an hour or two, then a book, 
 or bosses and letters and messages.’ He paused 
 after so long a speech, looking dazed, and quite un- 
 conscious that he had betrayed his master’s secret. 
 
 ‘Who do you take these things to, Whanks? 
 I suppose some gentleman friend ? I know Castelli 
 has friends in the neighbourhood.’ 
 
 The latter part of her sentence was purely a 
 make up, but it ans^^’ered her purpose to draw the 
 man out to say more. 
 
 ‘ Ah, that’s telling who it is ; there ain’t much of 
 
44 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUSTo 
 
 the gentleman in the business ; but I sha'n't split 
 I promised master I would not, and I won't* 
 
 He rose to go, standing with his hand on the 
 back of the chair to steady himself. 
 
 ‘ I must be off, Miss Cleo. IVegot the bosses to 
 see about If I’d only my aunt’s money I’d never 
 look after another blessed hoss.’ 
 
 Cleo smiled. She had gained all the information 
 she needed, and she did not press him to remain ; 
 indeed it was best that he should get clear out of 
 her rooms without delay. 
 
 Partially satisfied with her interview with 
 Whanks, there was still much more to find out, 
 and she resolved to go over to Sandcliffe to see 
 if she could discover anything for herself. 
 
 Accordingly the next day she set off by the morn- 
 ing coach, and after partaking of some refresh- 
 ment at the inn, she started up the village. As she 
 passed a small shop she saw a fisherman standing 
 at the door with a kibsey full of fresh shrimps. 
 
 ‘Good morning,’ she said kindly, and the man 
 looked round with astonishment to see such a 
 handsome woman in the remote village. Her attire 
 was elegant, she must be someone very grand, he 
 thought, so he touched his hat respectfully and 
 replied, — 
 
 ‘ Good morning, my lady ; beautiful weather we 
 are having now.’ 
 
 ‘ Beautiful,’ she added, ‘ and this place looks so 
 lovely I cannot think why more people don’t come 
 to see it’ 
 
 ‘ Are you staying here, lady ? ’ asked the man 
 with interest. 
 
 ‘ No, unfortunately, I am not. I came over this 
 morning in the coach just to see the place. I have 
 been staying in Bay haven. You don’t often get 
 
 visitors here, I suppose ? ’ she said unaffectedly. 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 45 
 
 ‘Not often, lady; ifs agin us, having no trains. 
 Folks don’t care about coming in the coach. It’s 
 ackard when there’s children and luggage. No, we 
 sha’n’t hope to do much till we gits the rail. They’ve 
 talked of that a long time, but there it ends. Let 
 me see,’ added the man, taking off his hat and 
 putting it on again dubiously, ‘ we has one visitor 
 here, of course, a young lady lodging up at Green’s 
 Cottages — a very pretty lass she is too, quite a lady, 
 so they says. I takes shrimps up there most days.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, well I hope you will soon get the line here, 
 and then plenty of people will come.’ 
 
 As she spoke she pressed a shilling into his hand. 
 He thanked her profoundly, and she turned to 
 go, but suddenly she inquired carelessly, — 
 
 ‘Where are Green’s Cottages? Far from here?’ 
 
 ‘ There they lies, lady. Them there white ones 
 on the slope of the hill. The prettiest houses in 
 the place to my thinking.’ 
 
 ‘ Thank you. Good-day.’ 
 
 The man watched her up the hill, and then he 
 went into the back parlour behind the shop and 
 informed his wife of the bit of news. 
 
 ‘ She was grand enough dressed, Marier Ann,’ he 
 said, ‘ but I can’t help thinking as she was after 
 somebody or something. Maybe I’m wrong, but 
 methinks I’m on the right track I wonder if she’s 
 aught to do with the young lady up at the Cottages. 
 There’s summit going on.’ 
 
 As his faithful spouse could not enlighten him, 
 he started off with his shrimps, telling the story of 
 the lady at every house he called. 
 
 Cleo turned down a narrow path which was cut 
 out of the side of the cliffs, and walked on to see 
 if anyone was on the beach in the vicinity of the 
 Cottages. She went on for some way, when a horse 
 in the distance arrested her attention. She stopped 
 
46 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 suddenly, and putting up one hand to shade her 
 eyes, she scanned it closely. 
 
 ‘That’s “Fleetfoot,”’ she said to herself, ‘and the 
 man on him is none other than Castelli. It’s he, 
 sure enough,’ she argued. ‘ Now I will watch the 
 farce out at a safe distance.’ 
 
 She returned up the narrow path and regained 
 the road. He must not see her, whatever came to 
 pass. From there she could observe without being 
 seen. She sat down and waited. 
 
 She heard the horse gallop past on the sand 
 beneath. She heard Castelli’s voice urging the 
 animal on. When they had passed she rose up 
 quickly to be sure it was he. One glance sufficed 
 to tell her that her suspicions were confirmed. 
 
 For a moment she felt inclined to call out loudly 
 after him, but she refrained. She would not be rash 
 or Indiscreet, but abide her time. Later she went 
 towards the Cottages, and when close to them she 
 saw a tall, delicate looking girl coming in the 
 opposite direction. No doubt this was the lady 
 come from her meeting with Castelli. Probably she 
 had reached the road by another path up the cliffs. 
 
 As Cleo passed her she noticed how beautiful 
 the girl was, with her simple gown of pink cotton, 
 relieved with bunches of white roses at her throat 
 and waist. She knew now where the flowers came 
 from each evening for Castelli. Under one arm 
 she carried a small dog, the silver bells on his 
 collar tinkling as they passed ; she was sure it was 
 the same animal that Castelli had tied to the leg 
 of his table. 
 
 Cleo turned back after the girl. She must know 
 which cottage was the home of Castelli’s sweetheart. 
 
 ‘ Oh, it’s the house with the white roses, is it ? ’ 
 she said to herself. ‘ Ah, my lady, you won’t go 
 on in your fool’s paradise, if I can help it, very 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 47 
 
 long. So, you think Castelli an angel, no doubt; I 
 think he is a devil — yes, a devil,’ she repeated loudly 
 
 On her way home she decided to let Castelli 
 know she had found him out ; at the same time 
 she would see what persuasion would effect before 
 speaking her mind to him. 
 
 On the evening of the day on which she had 
 visited Sandcliffe she walked unceremoniously to 
 his room. 
 
 ‘ What do you want ? ’ he said somewhat curtly. 
 ‘ Fm really very busy to-night’ 
 
 ‘ Have you not time to speak to me ? ’ she asked 
 quickly ; ‘ you used to like a chat with me. You’re 
 strangely altered, Emilio. I don’t believe you care 
 for me one little bit now, do you ? ’ 
 
 Her voice was gentle and tender. She wanted to 
 hear from his own lips whether he loved her or not, 
 and now was her opportunity. 
 
 ‘ I always liked you,’ he answered evasively, ‘ but 
 we can’t always be chatting ; it is quite absurd to 
 expect it.’ 
 
 ‘ I believe you love someone else,’ she remarked, 
 going to the point at once. 
 
 ‘There is no reason why I should not,’ he 
 answered drily. ‘ I suppose I am free to do that 
 if I like?’ 
 
 ‘ No, you’re not free, after making a fool of me,’ 
 she answered ho^ly. ‘You’ve always led me on to 
 suppose I should be your wife, and now you chuck 
 me off. If you’re in love with anyone else, you are 
 a liar and a hypocrite ! ’ 
 
 She was losing her temper, for she saw that her 
 sweetness had no effect upon him. 
 
 Castelli was anxious for Cleo to leave him, and 
 he moved up and down the room restlessly. At 
 last he said, — 
 
 ‘ It’s no use you standing there calling me foul 
 
48 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 names. If I am in love it's nothing to you, and as 
 to your ever being my wife, I would not marry you 
 if there wasn't another woman in the world. I 
 never intended to do so, I never shall, and once 
 more I tell you I am busy.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, you weren’t too busy to go to Sandcliffe 
 this morning, were you ? ’ she replied angrily. 
 ‘You didn't know I saw you, did you? But you 
 see I did, and a nice fool you're making of the 
 girl,' she added with scorn. 
 
 His face grew white with suppressed passion as 
 he answered, — 
 
 ‘How dare you spy upon my actions? How 
 dare you address me ? It's nothing to you where 
 I go. I suppose I can ride to Sandcliffe if I choose?' 
 
 ‘ So can I, and I mean to go again, and just as 
 often as I like, without your permission.' 
 
 ‘ Go to blazes if you like, but hold your vicious 
 tongue or I will make you.' 
 
 ‘ Oh, you want to shut me up, do you? You’re 
 afraid I've found out too much. Anyway, I've seen 
 the lady and the roses and the dog, and she lives 
 in a cottage on the hill. By Jove ! it's quite a 
 romance for the circus. Fancy a girl like that 
 marrying a ringmaster ! I wonder if she knows 
 how you have led other women on, and how you 
 swear and curse. It’s a pity such a little innocent 
 should marry you,' she added mockingly. 
 
 Castelli's passion was terrible to behold. For 
 a moment he could not speak. 
 
 ‘ You devil !’ he hissed, ‘ you tell me I've led other 
 women on. You lie, you scurrilous wretch ! Unsay 
 what you have said or by heaven I'll shake your 
 life out of you ! ' 
 
 ‘ You daren't. You coward, to threaten a woman ! 
 I wish the dear young lady was here,' she replied 
 tauntingly. ‘I wonder what she would think of 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 49 
 
 you. It’s a pity you don’t show yourself in your 
 true colours/ 
 
 In a moment, before she was aware, he vrasped 
 her roughly by the arm and shook her fiercely 
 several times. ^ 
 
 T> stand no more of your nonsense. 
 
 1 ve had a devilish sight too much of it already.’ 
 
 He turned in his anger and glanced hurriedly 
 round as if m search for his whip. 
 
 All the fury of her nature was aroused. She did 
 not plead for mercy, but stood her ground brayely 
 He held her so tightly that she could not escape 
 rom his grasp, but with her disengaged hand she 
 lought him with all her strength. 
 
 1 11 teach you to shake me ! ’ she panted. ‘ You 
 herseif'°^ devil!’ and she struggled violently to free 
 
 But that was impossible. He dragged her easily 
 across the room, resistance was useless, nearer and 
 nearer to the chair where the thin riding -whip 
 was lying. He had it within his grasp, when the 
 door opened suddenly and a voice called 
 
 ‘ Ten minutes to nine, sir. The horses’ are ready 
 lor the ring, sir/ ^ 
 
 nothing else. He was fairly 
 frightened out of his few senses. 
 
 Lastelh, as he flung down the whip. ‘I daresay 
 you re in this confounded business. I shall find it 
 out, and then we’ll see who is master ’ 
 
 h“tened into the 
 
 greeted Lastelli s appearance. 
 
 fascinating as usual. He looked 
 S f The scene 
 
 SSre di^urbed his serenity 
 
 D 
 
so 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Cleo was faint and exhausted with her struggle. 
 Castelli’s fingers had left an ugly bruise on her arm, 
 which was swelling and looking purple and blue. 
 It was a good thing her ‘ show ’ had been one of 
 the first. She could never have faced the people 
 with those hideous dark contused spots, growing 
 more painful every moment. 
 
 She went to her dressing-room and divested her- 
 self of her stage attire, and then sat down almost 
 too weary to think. She heard the applause as 
 Castelli left the ring. She heard the horses gallop 
 past to their stalls, and a wild gleam came into her 
 eyes. She was recovering her spirits, and with 
 them her thirst for revenge. She must tip Whanks 
 to hold his tongue. It would be the most cruel 
 degradation to her should the recital of her treat- 
 ment become the topic of conversation amongst 
 the grooms and artistes in the circus. This being 
 accomplished to her satisfaction, she hastened to 
 her apartments, but on her way thither she called 
 to order a carriage and pair to drive her over to 
 Sandcliffe at ten o'clock the next morning. 
 
 She had planned to rob Castelli of his bride. 
 
 The following morning Leila Gurney was stand- 
 ing watching the scudding, restless clouds. .The 
 night had been stormy, but the morning was balmy, 
 with fitful gleams of sunshine. Truly the world 
 was in a joyful mood. Leila shared this great 
 natural happiness, for was not her life like the 
 summer, full of a thousand tender hopes, since the 
 man she loved had sought and won her heart? 
 Llad he not charmed away despondency and 
 misery from her life, and given in its stead pro- 
 mised joy and peace? With what keen delight 
 she looked forward to his coming again on the 
 morrow. She would soon listen to his voice, that 
 voice she loved, almost to her as tender as the 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 51 
 
 ringdove’s cooing, and as soothing as lute to the 
 wearied ear at eventide. 
 
 She turned from the window and spoke to her 
 dog — his gift. Marcus, shall we go down to the 
 sea ? Marcus, your master will be here to-morrow 
 to see us, and we are going driving, doggie,’ and she 
 picked him up and kissed him passionately. 
 
 A wag of the fluffy tail and a few licks was the 
 dog’s mute answer. 
 
 ‘ Let me put on your collar, Marcus, with the 
 pretty bells,’ and she jingled the collar in the air. 
 
 ‘ A lady to see you, miss,’ announced the land- 
 lady somewhat curiously. 
 
 ‘To see me? There must be some mistake, 
 I have no friends here.’ 
 
 ‘ It s no mistake. Miss Gurney,’ answered a kindly 
 voice ; ‘ I have called upon particular business.’ 
 
 For a moment Leila thought it was some 
 messenger from her mother, and her face flushed 
 painfully. Leila asked her to be seated, meanwhile 
 admiring the handsome, elegantly dressed woman, 
 so different in appearance and manner to the 
 ladies she had ever known. 
 
 ‘ I wonder who she can be ? ’ was her mental 
 rejoinder. Poor lonely Leila had no friends to 
 come dropping in for a cup of tea, and the advent 
 of a stranger caused her to be painfully nervous. 
 She could not speak for the throbbing of her heart. 
 
 ‘I must apologise for calling,’ began the lady, 
 'hut I happened to hear by chance that you are 
 here alone and without your friends, and as you 
 are, I find, slipping without knowing it into a great 
 danger, I have come to warn you, to speak to you 
 as one lady should to another. If what I hear is 
 correct, I believe you are engaged to be married to 
 Signor Emilio Castelli, the equestrian manager of 
 the circus now in Bayhaven. Is it so ? ’ 
 
52 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 She paused, and Leila sank down on the sofa, 
 clutching the dog against her as if to still the 
 beating of her heart 
 
 ‘Yes, it is quite true ; I am engaged to him, I am 
 proud to say. But I do not wish to discuss the 
 matter with a stranger ; thank you all the same,’ 
 she added more gently, as if ashamed of her 
 brusqueness. 
 
 ‘Now, listen to me, my dear.’ Leila winced at 
 the familiarity. ‘You’re going to marry this man, 
 and you don’t know a thing about him. He is very 
 handsome, and you are smitten, but if you knew as 
 much as I do about him you’d thank me to the last 
 day of your life for coming here. If you value your 
 happiness, have nothing to do with Emilio Castelli. 
 There, I have at least done my duty in warning 
 you — no Christian could do more. Let me tell 
 you that I know his character perhaps the best of 
 anyone in the world.’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t want to hear anything about him,’ Leila 
 replied hotly. ‘ I love him, and intend to marry 
 him, whatever may say against him.’ 
 
 ‘You’d rather not hear what I have to say. 
 For love of this man you’d rather risk all your 
 future — you’ll repent of your choice when it is too 
 late. I tell you Castelli has been engaged to heaps 
 of women, that his character doesn’t stand too 
 high, and he has had a sweetheart in every town 
 the circus has ever visited. He is a liar, a hypo- 
 crite, and unprincipled ! And yet, rather than listen 
 to me, you’d trust your life to his keeping ! ’ 
 
 ‘ I would,’ answered Leila determinedly. ‘ I don’t 
 suppose you are in a position to judge much 
 about him ? ’ 
 
 ‘Oh, you mistrust me, do you? But you see 
 I happen to be Cleo, “ the only Cleo, Equili- 
 brist,” and Castelli and I have met constantly 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 53 
 
 these three years. And who should know him 
 better than I do ? I was actually engaged to him, 
 until a few weeks ago, when he threw me off like 
 a hound ' — she paused — ‘ and you’re the new love.’ 
 
 ‘ I do not believe a word you’ve said/ replied 
 Leila gravely. 
 
 She was terribly astonished, but her infatuation 
 was so intense that she never for one moment 
 believed the speaker. 
 
 ‘You doubt me, do you, Miss Gurney?’ said 
 Cleo, losing her temper. ‘ This is all I get for 
 troubling myself on your behalf. I’d rather die 
 than let any woman I know marry that man with 
 my consent’ 
 
 ‘ I haven’t asked your consent,’ said Leila quietly, 
 although she could hardly speak for agitation. 
 ‘ I love him with all my heart — nothing can part 
 us now.’ 
 
 ‘Oh, couldn’t it?’ replied Cleo scornfully. ‘ Sup- 
 pose I tell you that / love him, and have done so 
 for years. To me he has been the one joy of my 
 life. Will you take another woman’s lover? Is 
 that square and honest?’ 
 
 ‘You say you love him, and yet you warn me 
 against the same privilege,’ said Leila. ‘ If you love 
 him, surely I may do the same. If he is good for 
 you, he is for me.’ 
 
 Cleo saw she had let the ground go from under 
 her argument, that the girl was as sharp as she 
 was, but she still held tenaciously to her purpose. 
 
 ‘ Oh, I thought you were a lady. I never profess 
 to be one,’ she added, with a sneer. ‘ I did not 
 know the racehorse would eat with the sow.’ 
 
 ‘ I am satisfied,’ said Leila, ‘ with my choice. 
 He does not love you, for now I remember he 
 did speak of you, and I have heard all about the 
 “ disagreement between you.” ’ 
 
54 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Cleo turned white. Her fury rose. She was 
 almost mad with passion. She jumped up from 
 her chair and exclaimed excitedly, — 
 
 ‘You dare to sit there and insult me! He 
 has told you all about me, has he? Well, it’s 
 my turn now. I daresay a chit of a girl like 
 you don’t know much of circus life. To you, I 
 suppose, it’s all gilt, music, clowns, horses, and 
 applause. Fun for such as you, that’s what the 
 paying public see. None of you would like to 
 see things as they are. It would distress your 
 fine nerves too much, and disturb your comfort. 
 It’s such men as Castelli that make the circus a 
 hell. He—’ 
 
 ‘ I won’t hear any more about him,’ replied Leila, 
 now angry. ‘ I trust him thoroughly. Say nc 
 more, if you please.’ 
 
 ‘ I won’t be silent,’ said Cleo, interrupting her. 
 
 ‘ I came here to have my say, have it I will. 
 Emilio Castelli,’ she continued, ‘is a cruel brute. 
 It’s a bad day for horse or girl when they fall 
 into his way. Ah, you don’t know the secrets 
 behind the scenes, how horses are thrashed until 
 they drop exhausted in the ring, and your lover 
 Castelli is more pitiless than the rest. Ask Mdlle. 
 Donis, whom he trained, what he’s like. She’ll tell 
 you how he made her life a curse, a burden. How 
 one day in Leeds, in my presence, he lashed her 
 with his whip for bad “ trick riding,” and for two 
 long hours kept her at it, bruised, bleeding, and 
 sobbing, and then when she dismounted, kicked her 
 in the ring — yes, kicked her. That’s how he treats 
 women. That’s how he’ll treat you. He knows no 
 mercy. He’s fierce and cruel. You’ll get more of 
 the whip than love, more curses than blessings, and 
 more kicks than kisses,’ she added with intense 
 passion. 
 
ENVY AND HATRED. 55 
 
 ‘You are telling me untruths/ said Leila curtly. 
 
 ‘ Why should he be so cruel ? ’ 
 
 ‘ It s the way with some in our profession. 
 Castelli is the biggest brute I have ever come 
 across. I wish you luck with him.’ 
 
 ‘ Be good enough to leave this room. I have no 
 wish to hear more. Go at once/ exclaimed Leila, 
 standing up, facing her visitor steadily. ‘ Be good 
 enough to leave me. I shall marry whom I choose. 
 Your visit to me has not influenced me in the 
 least.’ 
 
 She went to the door and held it open. 
 
 Cleo saw it would be fruitless to remain, but she 
 intended to play another scene before the curtain 
 dropped upon her expedition. 
 
 ‘ I’ll go out of your room, never fear, but the day 
 will come when you will repent of your bargain, 
 when you’ll wish you had listened to me, and I 
 hope it will/ she added, with a fiendish smile. ‘ It 
 will jolly well serve you right/ and with this she 
 bounced out of the room. 
 
 Leila was half inclined to cry now the interview 
 was over, and for a moment she sat as if in a stupor. 
 Suddenly loud voices were heard proceeding from 
 the kitchen, at the rear of the house. She opened 
 the door again and listened. A woman’s voice 
 was saying, — 
 
 ‘You’d better let her friends know before it’s too 
 late. Tell them how things stand, and do warn 
 them that marriage isn’t much in his way. He’ll 
 never make her a wife.’ 
 
 Then the landlady replied, — 
 
 ‘ I guessed there was something up by the dog 
 coming and the groom bringing books and a horse 
 most days for her to ride. And the master hisself 
 comes pretty often. There’s always somebody 
 coming to and fro. But still it’s not my place to 
 
56 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 interfere with my lodgers. If she gets married, she 
 must. Fm not in charge of her. The doctor sent 
 her here. I was in his service before I married. 
 IFs nought to do with me.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, my good woman, you’ll get yourself into 
 nice trouble if she does go off with him. Be ad- 
 vised and write to her friends. He’s a regular bad 
 lot. It would be her ruin. It must be stopped 
 before it is too late.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, I’ll just get my husband to write a line to 
 the doctor. He’ll be home to-night. It can do no 
 harm. Leastways, I hope not, for the doctor lets 
 my rooms for me most seasons.’ 
 
 There was a scuffling of feet, the voices grew 
 nearer, and Leila guessed the woman was coming 
 past to the front door and closed hers gently. 
 
 She had heard enough to make her miserable. 
 She determined to write off to Castelli at once, 
 and hear from his lips whether the cruel statements 
 were true. 
 
 She was just as faithful to him. Her heart was 
 unshaken, and his love was still her most cherished 
 hope. Yet somehow the summer did not seem so 
 bright, for the rankling wounds of remembrance 
 would remain despite the wish to forget, 
 
 A few teardrops marked the day. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 
 
 Leila looked very pale and tired when she went 
 to meet Castelli at the old trysting place under the 
 tall grey cliffs. 
 
NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 
 
 57 
 
 The long restless hours of the night had robbed 
 her of her charms. The brightness of her glorious 
 eyes had grown dim, and in its place there was an 
 anxious, eager look, and dark circles had formed 
 underneath them, giving a very ill effect to the 
 lovely face. 
 
 Ah, it does not take much to rob the lilies of 
 their bloom. One cruel storm and the fairness is 
 destroyed. 
 
 Leila smiled faintly as Castelli approached her. 
 He was prepared to see her look worried. Her 
 urgent letter calling him to her side had shown 
 him how distressed she was, but he was horrified at 
 the change in her appearance. 
 
 He kissed her warmly and then remarked, — 
 
 • My darling, what ails you ? Are you ill ? I 
 came over as quickly as I could after having your 
 note. Now tell me all the worries and just what 
 has happened.’ 
 
 ‘ I am frightened, Emilio, dreadfully frightened,’ 
 and she hid her face on his arm. ‘ I’m almost afraid 
 to tell you all I have heard ; it is so dreadful.’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t be afraid,’ answered Castelli in a kind 
 voice fraught with sympathy. ‘ Have I not the 
 right to help you, Leila ? Now, sit down and let 
 me understand what has happened.’ 
 
 She sat down, with her thin white hand in his, 
 and then she told him all the story of Cleo. At 
 times she was so agitated that she could hardly 
 continue the conversation, and when she had 
 finished she burst into tears. 
 
 Castelli looked very grave, and said firmly but 
 gently,— 
 
 ‘ Don’t cry, Leila, but listen to me. All this 
 woman has told you is untrue, utterly false. She 
 has lied for her own mean ends. She hopes still 
 to triumph over you by her tyranny, to make you 
 
58 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 quail before her threats, to prevent us from be- 
 coming man and wife. My love for you has roused 
 her anger. She hates me, and for revenge tries to 
 corrupt your thoughts, and tells you I am false 
 and base. Leila,’ and he pressed her hands 
 tenderly, ^ do jyou doubt me?’ 
 
 His tone inspired her with a sense of awe. She 
 had never heard him speak in this strange and 
 eloquent style, and it awoke in her a certain shame 
 and regret that he should have to ask her if she 
 believed the woman who had tried to throw such 
 a ban on his name. 
 
 ‘ I could never doubt you, Emilio, you must 
 know that. I was certain you would not marry 
 her. But is all, quite all, she said untrue ? Have 
 you had sweethearts in every town you have 
 visited ? ’ 
 
 ‘ One IVe had, Leila, and that is you,’ he replied 
 soothingly. ‘ No one else has been dear to me. I 
 have never whispered love to another, never pictured 
 with fond delight the pleasures of a home except 
 with you and for you.’ 
 
 He breathed a sigh as he finished speaking, and 
 to Leila it seemed like an anguished heart. In 
 a moment all her tender sympathies were aroused, 
 and she replied in soft tones, — 
 
 ' I believe you, Emilio, dear Emilio ; but why 
 did that woman say such very dreadful things ? 
 I can’t bear to think of them.’ 
 
 ‘ Because she hates us, Leila, and if she can mar 
 our happiness her joy would be complete. But 
 that can never be, my Leila, for are not our hearts 
 fortified with a great love too deep to be put 
 asunder ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she answered, with just a little 
 hesitation, whilst a flush overspread her pale face. 
 
 Something in her manner implied she was not 
 
NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 
 
 59 
 
 quite satisfied. The woman’s words had given her 
 some fears, some feelings of impending shadows 
 rising in the future, and she could not as yet quite 
 shake off the forebodings, transient as they were. 
 
 The tenor of her tone struck him at once, and 
 he continued, — 
 
 ‘ There is something still, Leila, that is troubling 
 you. Won’t you tell me what it is, dearest ? ’ 
 
 Ignoring his direct question, she asked very 
 meekly, — 
 
 ‘ Are all circus people cruel to women and 
 horses ? ’ 
 
 There was an affectionate hope in her voice that 
 he would deny this also, still there was a pleading, 
 a yearning to know the truth from his lips. 
 
 ‘None of us, Leila; it would not pay us to be 
 cruel. Of course we are firm, and have to train 
 with a masterly hand or there would be no circus 
 for the people ; and to avert danger and to save 
 our lives we must be stern. Sometimes there is 
 a dreadful struggle between a horse and his rider, 
 and we have to make ourselves the master once 
 and for all.’ 
 
 ‘ But what about Mdlle. Donis ? ’ asked Leila, 
 with sudden curiosity. 
 
 His face grew stern, the softness died from his 
 eyes. His temper was ruffled when he found how 
 much Leila had been told, but his tact and skill 
 came to his rescue, and he threw a lustre over his 
 deeds which he knew the inexperienced girl could 
 not gainsay. 
 
 ‘ I did train Imra Donis. The woman told you 
 the truth for once,’ he said with withering scorn, ‘ but 
 I never ill-used her. She was light and pretty, and 
 we were all fond of her and proud of her riding. 
 Her grace and suppleness was perfection, and it 
 was to my advantage to treat her kindly. Talent 
 
6o 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 and dexterity are absolute necessities in the ring, 
 and cruelty would not develop either, so put away 
 such ideas, Leila, my pet, or I shall think you 
 don’t love me/ 
 
 ‘ I have but one love, Emilio, and that is you,’ 
 she replied with fervour. 
 
 Her inquiries were beginning to be rather diffi- 
 cult to answer satisfactorily, and he saw that the 
 matter must be brought to a climax before she had 
 time to reflect longer on all that Cleo had told her. 
 
 He was cunning — she so trusting. 
 
 ‘Leila,’ he spoke her name so gently, ‘do you 
 love me well enough to do anything I ask you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Anything,’ she replied. ‘ Anything in the wide 
 world.’ 
 
 He stooped and kissed her. 
 
 ‘We must be married at once, Leila, or we must 
 part for ever. The landlady is sure to keep her 
 word — your father may be here to-morrow, and we 
 should never meet again.’ 
 
 Leila was thinking how dreary that going home 
 with her father would be, and she shuddered as 
 she thought of the loss of her handsome, kindly 
 lover. Her life was so happy basking in his love — 
 a love which had taken possession of her heart and 
 soul. 
 
 ‘ Must we ? ’ she asked vaguely, as one in a 
 dream. 
 
 ‘Or say good-bye. You must decide, Leila, 
 which it is to be?’ 
 
 Her passion for him was like a giant wave — it 
 rushed madly over both mind and body, it over- 
 whelmed her with its depth, and left her resistless, 
 susceptible only to her dream of delight. It had 
 dulled her for the time to the realities of life. She 
 was stupefied with the cup in which the sweet 
 poison had been so temptingly and insidiously 
 
NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 6l 
 
 held to her lips. Hope, youth’s prophet, had said: 
 
 ‘ Drink to the dregs, and so chase away anxious 
 care. Love to you will be the balm to all ills, and 
 the cure of sorrow. Why tread a lonely way when 
 his love is shining for you like the morning star.’ 
 She was entranced. Her love was almost divine. 
 Castelli saw her wavering in her decision for 
 one moment, and then she spoke. 
 
 ‘ It can never be good-bye again,’ she said 
 faintly. ‘ I will do what you think best’ 
 
 ^You are brave and true, Leila; now listen to 
 me. If the landlady wrote last night, your father 
 will probably be here by to-morrow morning, 
 perhaps to-night’ 
 
 ‘Oh, no, he won’t,’ replied Leila, interrupting 
 him quickly. ‘ He never does anything in a hurry.’ 
 ‘Well, then, we’ll give him until to-morrow. 
 He or the doctor is sure to be here by train 
 to-morrow. You must leave quite early in the 
 morning, about six o’clock, before anyone is 
 about, and don’t bring anything with you or it 
 may arouse suspicion if you meet any of the fisher- 
 men coming from their boats in the bay.’ 
 
 ‘I must bring Marcus,’ she replied. ‘I couldn’t 
 leave him behind.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, Marcus can come, and you might carry 
 a towel in your hand. It would seem then as if 
 you were going to take an early bath. Whatever 
 you do, avoid calling people’s attention to you. 
 When you have left the house, walk by the beach 
 as far as Dread Point. It is about two miles, not 
 more, straight ahead towards Bayhaven.’ 
 
 ‘ I have been there,’ she replied quickly. ‘ I know 
 the spot well.’ 
 
 ‘That’s good,’ he replied. ‘When you get to 
 Dread’s Point, Whanks and a carriage will be 
 waiting for you on the road which runs along the 
 
62 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Downs. He will drive you at once to the fishing 
 village of Thorpe. It is thirteen miles from here, 
 and seven on the other side of Bayhaven. I shall 
 drive over there and find you some apartments, 
 and in them you must stay until I can join you 
 with a special licence. You must remain in the 
 house, answer no questions as to who you are, or 
 where you come from. Understand me, Leila, that 
 is most important’ 
 
 ‘ But the landlady will wonder who I am, and 
 where my luggage is. I shall have nothing with 
 me. I couldn’t go like that’ 
 
 ‘ Then you must give up the enterprise at once, 
 unless you like to make out a list of a few neces- 
 saries, which Whanks can bring you, and after we 
 are man and wife, Leila, I will come over here and 
 demand your belongings. Two days at the most 
 you will have to wait’ 
 
 ‘ But the landlady will think it so funny to see 
 me there alone. There will be no excuse.’ 
 
 ‘ / will see her, Leila, when I take the rooms. 
 I shall ask her to care for you until I come with 
 the licence. When all is ready for the marriage I 
 shall tell her the truth. Leave it to me, Leila ; I will 
 manage her. Only do as I tell you the rest will 
 be easy.’ 
 
 Leila was not sufficiently worldly wise to under- 
 stand that money can do everything. She did not 
 comprehend that Castelli’s management of the land- 
 lady meant a goodly bribe of gold. 
 
 She was satisfied. She would do what he bade 
 her, trusting in his love and his guidance. 
 
 They parted for the last time as lovers. Her 
 depression had passed away. A joyousness shone 
 again in her eyes, and her voice was full of glad- 
 ness as she said good-bye until the dawn of another 
 day. 
 
NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 63 
 
 ‘ Good-bye, Leila. To-morrow, sweetheart, you 
 must come away.’ 
 
 ‘ I will,’ she replied with determination, ' I will 
 be there.’ 
 
 On his way home Castelli wondered if she 
 would be afraid when the last decisive step must 
 be taken, whether natural timidity would usurp 
 its sway and he should lose his prize for ever. 
 
 He loved her dearly, and longed for the time when 
 he could call her wife. He had made up his mind 
 to keep his pearl at Thorpe, even after the wed- 
 ding was over. She must be aloof from the circus 
 entirely. 
 
 In the meantime there was much for him to do, 
 for the hours speed on, and the morrow comes 
 almost before the sunset dies away. 
 
 When the early day dawned, when the happy 
 birds had begun to fill the silent air with song, 
 when the soft breezes were wakening the sleeping 
 flowers, and the sea murmuring sweetly on the 
 shore, Leila Gurney, with restless haste, set out 
 upon her journey — a journey which would bring 
 her one step nearer to the goal of bliss, that 
 haven of rest for which she had so ardently 
 longed during her sad and shadowed life. 
 
 Five hours later Charles Gurney and Dr Burton 
 sat in the little parlour in Green’s Cottages. The 
 landlady was propounding her theories loudly as 
 to the whereabouts of her lodger. 
 
 ‘ When I came down this morning, sir,’ she said, 
 turning to the doctor, ‘she was gone, clean as a 
 whistle. I never heard her go out, yet I was 
 awake at five o’clock. Her bed has been slept 
 in, so she can’t have gone far. She couldn’t walk 
 to Bayhaven surely, and the coach hasn’t gone 
 yet. She’s got the start of you, but you’re bound 
 to find her.’ 
 
64 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Charles Gurney replied before the doctor had 
 time to speak. 
 
 ‘You wrote to warn me, Mrs Thomas, for which 
 I am deeply obliged, but as the bird has flown there 
 is no reason for us to detain you longer.’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t hurry, Gurney. I should like to be sure 
 of one or two things before we leave. I was instru- 
 mental in placing your daughter here, and I mean 
 to get every scrap of information possible.’ 
 
 ‘ Do you know for certain that she has gone 
 with this man connected with the circus at Bay- 
 haven, Mrs Thomas ? ’ he asked. 
 
 ‘ As far as we can be sure of anything in this 
 world, sir. The lady as called here told me she was 
 engaged to him ; my husband saw them together 
 yesterday under the cliffs, and to-day she has gone.’ 
 ‘ Are all her things here ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Just as she left them, sir, except the dog. She 
 took him with her, I suppose, for he ain’t here.’ 
 ‘Where does this unscrupulous villain perform, 
 did you say ? ’ asked Gurney. 
 
 ‘ At Duval’s Royal Circus, Bayhaven, sir, a good 
 seven miles from here.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, I’m not going after her. I don’t care 
 whether it is seven miles or seventy,’ said Gurney 
 hastily, with a sullen look on his face. ‘But I 
 should like the brute’s name and address.’ 
 
 ‘ I know it’s Castelli,’ said the landlady, ‘ but there 
 was two other names before that, so the lady said. 
 It began with By one of them did, but it beats me 
 to think what she called him — sounded like a name 
 /never heard before, fureign I should say. Why, let 
 me see,’ she exclaimed suddenly, ‘ I believe the 
 lady wrote it down on the baker’s book, as I had 
 in my hand when she came to the kitchen door, 
 ril go and see, sir.’ 
 
 She left the room, and both the men seemed too 
 
NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 65 
 
 full of thought to say much. At length the doctor 
 spoke. 
 
 ‘ Gurney, we must find her — fancy her at the 
 mercy of this man alone — we had better go to 
 Bayhaven at once.' 
 
 ‘ I sha'n't. You can go a fool's errand if you 
 like. She has gone somewhere, and there she 
 can remain.' 
 
 ' Gurney, she is your only girl, the one — ' 
 
 Before he could complete the sentence the land- 
 lady appeared. 
 
 ‘ Here it is, sir, wrote down under the quartern 
 of flour. S-i-g-n-o-r,' she spelt out persistently ; ‘ but 
 there, perhaps one of you gentlemen had better 
 read it. I'm a good scholar, so my husband says, 
 but I can't manage names that hasn't got any 
 Christianity in them.' 
 
 ‘ Signor Emilio Castelli, Duval’s Royal Circus, 
 Bayhaven,"' read out Gurney. ‘ I'll take the name 
 down, if you don’t object, madam.' 
 
 ‘ Well, I hope I sha'n’t get into any trouble over 
 the affair, as my husband says I can’t be expected 
 to look after the lodgers.' 
 
 ‘ I shall make no trouble, madam,' said Charles 
 Gurney, rising to leave. ‘ I had hoped to have 
 saved her from the degradation of a marriage far 
 beneath her, but as I am too late I don’t intend to 
 trouble more about her.' 
 
 'You'll think better of that, Gurney, by-and-by,' 
 replied the doctor, almost ashamed of the father's 
 callous bearing and loveless tone ; ' she must be 
 found without delay.' 
 
 'Not by answered Charles Gurney, ' not by 
 me,’ he repeated severely and coldly. 
 
 ‘Well, sir,' said Mrs Thompson, as she reached 
 the front door, turning to face Dr Burton, ' I hope 
 you'll send me some more lodgers ; it's no fault of 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 mine. I believe this scandal will be pounds out 
 of my pocket ; my husband says it will. Td give 
 anything if it had happened in someone else’s 
 house and not in mine.’ 
 
 ‘ I shall always do the best I can for you, Mrs 
 Thompson, but I won’t send you any more unpro- 
 tected girls. There must be a father or mother in 
 the business next time.’ 
 
 He shook hands with her, but Charles Gurney did 
 not even speak. He nodded slightly towards her, 
 and with this scant courtesy Mrs Thompson had 
 to be satisfied. 
 
 After they left the house Dr Burton insisted 
 upon taking lunch at the hotel. The train did not 
 leave for another three hours, and he was in hopes 
 that Gurney, in the meantime, would look at the 
 matter in a different light, and seek his child whilst 
 there was the chance. 
 
 When they were seated in the little stuffy bar 
 parlour, waiting for the eggs and bacon being duly 
 prepared for them. Dr Burton made another effort 
 on behalf of the young girl he had tried to befriend 
 and which had so far ended with such disastrous 
 results. 
 
 ‘ Don’t you think, Gurney, instead of taking the 
 trap back to Wellston Junction, we had better go 
 home by way of Bayhaven and see what has become 
 of the girl ? At least we can ask for this man Castelli 
 and learn the truth. We could pay the driver and 
 send him off at once. It is our duty, Gurney ; 
 your daughter has been led away. Don’t be too 
 hard, but save her if you can.’ 
 
 ^ I shall go back the way I came, as I said before. 
 You can please yourself, but I think you’re making 
 a confounded fuss over a girl that never belonged to 
 you. If I choose to disclaim her, I suppose I can.’ 
 
 ‘ No fuss, Gurney. The girl is to blame ; but I do 
 
NO JOY COMES UNMIXED. 
 
 67 
 
 think humanity should make you more kindly, 
 more anxious to rescue your child from perhaps sin 
 and shame.’ 
 
 The lunch coming in interrupted the conversation 
 for a while, and the doctor did not allude to the 
 subject again until they were strolling afterwards 
 on the cliffs. 
 
 ‘We shall lose this train anyhow, Gurney. See 
 how clear the water looks. Shall we go down to 
 the beach ? ’ 
 
 Down to the beach they went, the beach which 
 had been the trysting place of Gurney’s daughter 
 and Castelli, and where their troth had been plighted 
 and their marriage arranged ; but neither of the men 
 knew this. 
 
 And the sand and stones around them were dumb. 
 
 ‘ Gurney, what are you going to do ? ’ 
 
 The doctor’s persistency angered Gurney, and he 
 turned to him defiantly. 
 
 ‘ Look here, sir, she has gone, and I forbid you 
 to speak her name to me again — a girl that goes 
 off and marries a man no better than a groom, or 
 doesn’t marry her, that’s more like it,’ he cried 
 passionately. ‘ It’s the cursed mother in the child ; 
 the same treachery over again, the same heartless 
 ingratitude, the same bad passions, and yet you bid 
 me seek her, the daughter of the sinful, wretched 
 mother — a woman no better than one who haunts 
 the streets.’ 
 
 ‘ Hush, hush, Gurney. She was your wife,’ said 
 the doctor gently. 
 
 ‘ Wife ! ’ he hissed. ‘ A wife without honour, a 
 wife without shame, a woman who rushed to her 
 ruin. Let her perish, as she deserves, and the girl 
 too. She shall live her wretched, honour-stained 
 life alone. Those who have the prize can keep it. 
 I renounce her for ever. She deserves her fate. 
 
68 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 the daughter of an accursed mothen I shall never 
 deplore their loss. And now we had better drop 
 the subject for ever. It’s nothing to you, and if I 
 choose to adopt measures you don’t like, be good 
 enough to keep your own counsel.’ 
 
 ‘ Certainly,’ replied the doctor stiffly. ‘ But the 
 day will come, Mr Gurney, when you will repent 
 your decision.’ 
 
 ‘ That, too, is my concern.’ 
 
 The two men travelled home together, scarcely 
 addressing a word to each other on the journey. 
 When they arrived at the village station the doctor 
 put out his hand towards Charles Gurney. 
 
 ‘Good-night, sir. I don’t think we need meet 
 again, unless I am required in my professional 
 capacity.’ 
 
 ‘ Please yourself,’ replied Charles Gurney curtly, 
 as he turned away without taking the proffered hand. 
 
 ‘ What a cruel, wretched man he is,’ murmured 
 the doctor on his way home. ‘ No feeling for those 
 he should have loved, no heart. Brutal, that’s what 
 he is, perfectly brutal. I’ll have no more to say to 
 him. I wish I’d never seen the girl. But perhaps, 
 after all, she is happier away from her unnatural 
 father. I hope she is.’ 
 
 He was glad to be at home again, and whilst he 
 enjoyed his tea with his wife and little chattering 
 daughter, Charles Gurney walked up and down his 
 small sitting-room. The defiant, scornful look had 
 died from his face, and one of anguish had taken 
 its place. 
 
 Away from curious gaze, the strong man gave 
 way to feelings which he thought long since gone. 
 The conduct of his daughter had brought back, in 
 some extraordinary manner, softer thoughts of his 
 wife, and as he paced the room he spoke aloud. 
 
 ‘ No one can heal a bruised and broken heart, 
 
^TACTA EST ALEA. 
 
 69 
 
 and I loved her so dearly. Heaven has doomed 
 me. I have had to part with all I cherished. All 
 have forsaken me. First, my wife went, then the 
 boy — but God speed him — and now, to-day, the 
 last has gone. Men talk of affection. What is it ? 
 But the blossom on the spray for a time. Then 
 some rude hand dashes it to the ground, and there 
 it lies and withers, with none to heed its pain. I 
 can never forget her — wife — mother. She left me, 
 and unheard, unpitied I complain. If she lives, she 
 smiles perchance, but not for me. I don’t know 
 her destiny, whether she is dead or not, but thoughts 
 of her come to me with the loss of other and 
 happier days.’ 
 
 His face suddenly changed, and it was terrible 
 to see. It grew white and passionate. His eyes 
 were sullen, and the old fixed, leaden expression 
 came round his mouth. The tender feelings were 
 gone. They were but a remembrance come back 
 to make the present more miserable by comparison. 
 
 Forgive them — never — never. Let the broken 
 vows of the adulterous wife be accursed. Let the 
 sinning daughter fall into the shades of hell as the 
 mother had. They were best there — forgotten — 
 hated — despised. 
 
 Pity or compassion he had none. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 'TACTA EST ALEA.’ 
 
 Two days after Leila Gurney had left Sandcliffe 
 she became, by special licence, Mrs Emilio Castelli. 
 On the morning of her bridal day she had felt very 
 
70 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 lonely and ill at ease, and it took a great deal 
 of gentleness and kindness on Castelli’s part to 
 reassure her and bring the smile back to her face. 
 
 The early day had been stormy and wild. The 
 great trooping masses of clouds muttered in angry 
 thunder tones, and flashes of lightning gleamed 
 across the sky. The sea's trembling waves rose 
 with wilder swell, and the wind sighed gently and 
 moaned as if in anguish. It seemed to be chanting 
 a dirge for the dead. 
 
 All this had tended to depress her. She took 
 the storm to be an ill-omen, the voice of prophecy 
 destined by Nature to warn her of the dark shadows 
 which lay before her in the years to come. 
 
 Castelli laughed when she told him her fears, and 
 said kindly, — 
 
 ‘ The storm cannot last for ever, Leila ; the sun 
 must come out again. Don't fret, my darling. I 
 hope your life will be all happiness despite the 
 tempest.' 
 
 ‘ Perhaps it will be like the rainbow when the 
 storm has passed, all colours, all brightness.' 
 
 He kissed her, and she was once more satisfied. 
 
 Another hour and the wedding was over. There 
 had been no one present but Whanks and the 
 clerk as witnesses. The clergyman, an old man, 
 hurried carelessly over the service, scarcely evincing 
 any interest in the contracting parties. He never 
 altered the monotone in his voice excepting twice, 
 when two awful crashes of thunder seemed to burst 
 right over the tiny church. When they had signed 
 their names in the vestry he bid them ‘ God speed,' 
 and that was all. He had done his share of the 
 duty, the rest never troubled him. 
 
 Leila looked up at him once, just before she left 
 the vestry, hoping he would smile at her. She 
 longed for one congratulation, one kindly word of 
 
‘TACTA EST ALEA. 
 
 71 
 
 encouragement, one benison on her marriage day. 
 But he offered her none. He began to disrobe in 
 a most offhand and practical manner, and the 
 newly married pair left the church as quietly as 
 they had entered. Outside the porch they found 
 Whanks, who held out his hand to the bride. 
 
 ‘ Every blessing shine on you, Miss Leila ; oh, 
 I beg pardon, madam. You see it’s rather hard 
 to change your name all of a sudden like. I wish 
 I had my aunt’s money, then I should get spliced 
 too. I hope you’ll both be happy, sir,’ he added, 
 turning to his master, ‘ that I do.’ 
 
 Leila shook hands with him, and her husband did 
 the same. She could not thank him, for she was 
 choking down the sobs which his kind words had 
 called forth. 
 
 ‘ You’re a good fellow, Whanks,’ said his master, 
 
 ‘ and we are both grateful for your kind wishes,’ 
 
 They walked back to the apartments quietly, 
 arm-in-arm, with Whanks in the rear. The 
 thunder had ceased, the clouds were breaking, 
 showing bright blue beyond, the wind had dropped, 
 and the heat was quite oppressive. 
 
 After luncheon Leila decided to write to her 
 father at once. He would have to be told, and the 
 sooner the better. She dispatched her letter, and 
 then she and Castelli started for a drive. 
 
 How beautiful looked the summer afternoon. 
 All traces of the storm had gone. There was joy 
 and life all around. The birds sang with all their 
 might, as if keeping high revel and exulting in 
 gladness as they flitted amongst the hedges or 
 darted into the bushes, too happy to do aught but 
 clap their wings and proclaim their welcome to 
 the smiling earth. 
 
 The softness of the day gave Leila a feeling of 
 languor and repose, and the calm, placid sky shed 
 
72 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 a halo over her mind, and for the time entranced 
 her senses, like the sweetest music stealing over 
 a restless spirit. 
 
 As she drove it seemed as if the air kissed her 
 with a breath of love. In the distance the sea 
 murmured soothingly, and the cliffs and the fields 
 breathed out visions of radiant joy and enduring 
 love. 
 
 She was so happy in her dream of youth. There 
 were no sombre clouds with angry rugged edges 
 seen on the horizon as yet. All was light and 
 hope. 
 
 After her marriage she was somewhat disap- 
 pointed to learn that she was not to reside in Bay- 
 haven as long as the circus was there, and upon this 
 point her husband was gently firm. 
 
 ‘ If s no place for you, my darling,’ he had said 
 kindly. ‘ In another month we shall have to go to 
 Manchester, and then you shall go with me now 
 and then to the circus ; but we have rather a rough 
 lot here just now, and you would not like to meet 
 Cleo again, would you ? ’ 
 
 ‘No,’ she replied, ‘ I should not. Where is she 
 now? ’ 
 
 ‘ Down at the show.’ 
 
 But he did not add that he had made her so 
 uncomfortable that she had been glad to arrange 
 to leave at the end of the week and take a Con- 
 tinental engagement. 
 
 The fact was, however, that he did not wish his 
 wife to be too rudely introduced to the life. He 
 dreaded her learning the truth all at once. Some 
 day she must know all the secrets and the cruelties, 
 but at present it pleased him to keep her innocent 
 of all guile. 
 
 ‘ T shall be so dull here all day alone,’ she said 
 to him. 
 
‘TACTA EST ALEA.’ 
 
 73 
 
 * Oh, no, my darling. You will have your dog and 
 Athol, also a horse to ride, and books, and I might 
 get some of the fishermen to give you a row for an 
 hour each day.’ 
 
 ‘ But you will have to go so early every morning, 
 and won’t be back until late at night’ 
 
 Her voice fell, her eyes filled with tears at the 
 thought 
 
 Most men would have given way when they 
 saw the upturned, anxious face, but Castelli 
 only put back the golden curls and kissed her 
 tenderly. 
 
 ‘ What, tears ! and only married two days ? Come, 
 come, I must have my sunbeam all smiles, and she 
 must remember that if Bayhaven was the best place 
 for her she should go. But, believe me, darling, I 
 am doing what is kindest for you. And there is 
 Manchester in view next month, and then you 
 won’t be dull.’ 
 
 Kind as he was, she felt she could not contradict 
 him. He possessed some power which held her 
 completely under his control, and she replied, — 
 
 ‘ I’m sure you do the best you can for me, and 
 I won’t grumble any more. I wish father would 
 answer my letter. Do you think he will ? ’ she 
 asked him anxiously. 
 
 ‘ Not just yet, perhaps, my darling. He will 
 wait a little while. You see he must feel rather 
 riled to find his daughter fled and married ; and 
 fathers don’t always forgive in a hurry.’ Observing 
 her disappointed look, he added : ‘ There is very 
 little time gone by. It will all come right if you 
 don’t worry.’ 
 
 The next day Castelli’s holiday came to an 
 end, and he went back to his duties. When 
 he arrived at the circus he found several letters 
 awaiting him. They were all on business save 
 
74 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 one, and that came from Leila’s father, and its 
 contents ran : — 
 
 ‘Heath Cottage, 
 Briarhill. 
 
 ‘ Sir, — I am told you have married my daughter. 
 If it is so, which I doubt, I wish you joy of her. 
 The child who leaves home and friends, and bolts 
 with a groom, will surely make a good wife. She 
 inherits sufficient of her mother’s good qualities to 
 make her turn out a devil by-and-by. The girl is 
 the offspring of a wicked woman, who left me and 
 her children. This, I hope, will be a strong recom- 
 mendation for her. 
 
 ‘ When you have tired of her I have no doubt her 
 excellent mother will undertake the rest of her 
 education, and cultivate her mind, soul, and body 
 in order that she may follow in her footsteps. 
 
 ‘ Charles Gurney.’ 
 
 After Castelli had read this scurrilous and sar- 
 castic letter he pondered in his own mind whether 
 he should show it to Leila or consign it to destruc- 
 tion at once. He picked up the envelope and 
 found it contained another letter, addressed to his 
 wife, but securely sealed. Then he decided to let 
 her see his letter. 
 
 When he arrived home he gave the sealed 
 missive to Leila, who changed colour rapidly as 
 she opened and read it : — 
 
 ‘ Child of your miserable, unhappy mother, so 
 you have found your level — the level made for you 
 by that woman, my wife. You could not be pure 
 as others are. Your blood is tainted ; nothing can 
 purify it. 
 
 ‘ Married, are you ? Well, that is no business of 
 
‘TACTA EST ALEA.' 
 
 75 
 
 mine. I don’t care what you are, but remember, 
 when the scoundrel you are with has cast you off, 
 don’t come to me for mercy. As you have made 
 your bed, so you must lie on it. I would not give 
 you, a castaway, shelter even if you lay in the gutter 
 at my door. This is all I shall ever write to you. 
 
 ‘ Charles Gurney.’ 
 
 Leila had never loved her father very dearly, 
 but his letter was a terrible blow to her. She 
 turned so white that Castelli hurried to her side. 
 
 ‘ It is bad news, my darling, isn’t it ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, read it,’ she answered faintly. 
 
 He perused the cruel lines, and hard and stern 
 as he was, his sorrow and sympathy for his young 
 wife was deep and sincere. 
 
 ‘ Never fear, my pet, he’ll forgive you some day. 
 That letter has been written on the spur of the 
 moment. I also have had one from him. I think 
 you had better read it — there should be no secrets 
 between husband and wife.’ 
 
 She laid both letters down on the table with 
 a sigh. For the time her happiness was gone. 
 A cloud had cast its gloom over the shining star; 
 its brilliancy had declined. 
 
 ‘ Leila,’ said Castelli quietly, ‘ before we were 
 married you led me to suppose your mother was 
 dead ; is it true she ran away from your father ? ’ 
 He waited for her reply. 
 
 The crimson blood rushed to the fair cheeks. 
 She put her hands to her face, as if to conceal her 
 shame from his gaze. 
 
 ‘Yes, yes, it is true — all true.’ 
 
 ‘ Never mind, darling, I think no worse of you for 
 your mother’s faults. But why did you not tell me 
 before ? I thought you had lost her by death.’ 
 
 ‘ Why did I not tell you ? ’ she said, now roused 
 
76 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 to excitement. ' Why should I spread my mother’s 
 shame abroad ? Was it not hard enough to bear 
 without that ? Was all my happiness to be ruined 
 for her sin ? I tried to forget she ever lived, tried 
 to forget all the misery she brought to us, and the 
 loss of our home. Oh, how happy we were,’ she 
 continued, ‘father, mother, Tom and I, all together 
 at home ! Her sin will always cling to me ; I must 
 bear the burden — it is cruel, cruel! ’ 
 
 She sobbed aloud, and Castelli was really dis- 
 tressed. 
 
 ‘ I don’t visit the sins of a mother upon the child 
 if others do,’ he replied kindly. ‘You are just as 
 precious to me. Whatever your mother is has 
 nothing to do with me.’ 
 
 She kissed him, and he put his arms round her 
 and did his best to comfort her. 
 
 ‘ Come, now, what have you been doing to-day ? ’ 
 he asked, anxious to turn the conversation. 
 
 ‘ Reading Pope’s Horner^ and of the high esteem 
 horses were held in when they first came into 
 Greece. I was so amused, because in the fifteenth 
 Iliad they speak of an extraordinary feat of activity 
 where one man manages four horses at once, and 
 leaps from the back of one to another when going at 
 full speed. Why, I saw that done in a circus years 
 ago by quite a boy.’ 
 
 She laughed gaily at the idea, and Castelli, 
 taking up the cue, related anecdote after anecdote 
 about his horses. 
 
 And so the smiles returned, as the sun shines 
 after the April shower. 
 
HORROX. 
 
 77 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HORROX. 
 
 Six happy months had glided on. Leila was as 
 joyous as on the day Castelli had made her his 
 bride. She had been treated with the greatest 
 kindness and consideration, and in each place they 
 visited her comfort had been her husband’s chief 
 thought and care. 
 
 Of the actual circus life she had seen very little. 
 Two or three times she had occupied a stall to see 
 the performance, but she had never been behind 
 the scenes. 
 
 Some of the company had for fun now and then 
 twitted Castelli upon his marriage, and asked him 
 to ‘ show up the lady.’ ‘ What on earth do you 
 keep her shut in for ? ’ one of them would ask ; 
 and another would say, ' She’s too good for us, 
 I suppose, a kind of angel all to herself.’ 
 
 To all these taunts Castelli turned a deaf ear. If 
 they pleased them it pleased him equally well to 
 keep his wife to himself. 
 
 Sometimes, when Leila was alone, she would 
 wonder why the horses in the ring looked so scared 
 at the trainer, and why their eyes were fixed upon 
 the thin small whip he held before them. Castelli 
 had told her, in answer to her questions, that all 
 horses did the same, and she believed him implicitly. 
 
 One evening, when she came home from a per- 
 formance, she spoke to her husband again on the 
 subject, which had lately filled her mind and given 
 her a certain amount of uneasiness. She had 
 witnessed the performance of a troupe of acrobats, 
 and one little sad-faced boy of very tender years 
 had aroused her sympathy. 
 
78 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 As usual Castelli had put her off with explana- 
 tions which seemed to be truth, but she had no 
 means of going into the rights and wrongs of the 
 case, and her husband had no intention of going into 
 details. But still the white face haunted her, and 
 the thin arms and heavy breathing were present in 
 her mind ; she could not forget him, and was only 
 partially satisfied that all was well. 
 
 For some time after this Castelli kept her from 
 the circus, under one pretext or another, but he was 
 beginning to tire of the constant vigilance neces- 
 sary to keep his wife in ignorance, and when they 
 arrived in Leeds he took her to professional apart- 
 ments, in which another member of the circus with 
 his troupe lodged, and here it was that Leila first 
 learnt the horrors daily practised on some of those 
 who are trained by an atrocious system. 
 
 ‘ The Guarez Family ' occupied the ground floor 
 of the house and also the top rooms, whilst Leila 
 and her husband had the drawing-room floor. This 
 arrangement led to the troupe constantly passing 
 her doors on their way to the higher story. She 
 soon discovered that there were six of them, the 
 eldest girl being about fourteen years of age. 
 There was only one boy, by name Willie, a sickly, 
 wan child of seven summers. In these children 
 her curiosity was soon aroused. When they passed 
 her they never spoke, only giving her a frightened 
 glance. She never had seen children behave so 
 before, and this set her wondering. At last she 
 questioned Castelli, as they sat at supper one 
 evening. 
 
 ‘ I should like to see those children who live 
 downstairs perform. How miserable they do look. 
 Is Horrox their father ? and where is their mother ? ' 
 asked Leila. 
 
 Her husband frowned a little, but he was too 
 
HORROX. 79 
 
 Wise to lose his temper over her perpetual ques- 
 tioning. 
 
 ‘No, he is not their father, Leila. Probably 
 there are six different mothers. They are not 
 related ; they are children he has taken and 
 trained. He allows each mother so much a week 
 and takes all they earn for himself,' replied Cas- 
 telli quietly. 
 
 ‘ Why do they call themselves “ The Guarez 
 Family" if they are not one family? And they 
 call Horrox father. I cannot understand what it 
 means,' said Leila, somewhat vexed at the decep- 
 tion around her. 
 
 ‘ Look here, my dear,' said Castelli, with just 
 a little tone of irritation in his voice, ‘ it is the 
 custom for children who perform together to be 
 called “ a family," and the trainer is always the 
 father ; it's more convenient altogether. In the bills 
 “ The Guarez Family " sounds more complete than 
 calling them all by separate names ; it could not 
 be done. Sometimes it is troupe, not family.' 
 
 ‘ It is not true at anyrate,' said Leila. 
 
 ‘ Quite, as the profession accept the term,' replied 
 Castelli. ‘ It’s no use your worrying, my dear, about 
 things that cannot be helped.' 
 
 ‘ I must,' said Leila somewhat hotly, ‘ when I see 
 things and hear, too, what I do not like or under- 
 stand. I am firmly convinced Horrox is a cruel 
 man, and I shall find out if he is. In the morning, 
 when you are away at the circus, I hear moans and 
 faint screams, and loud voices and awful language. 
 There must be some reason. Why will you not 
 tell me the truth, Emilio ? ' 
 
 ‘You are mistaken, Leila. The children practise 
 in the top room, and perhaps you hear a scream 
 when they fall and get frightened. And as to your 
 finding out whether or not Horrox is cruel, take 
 
8o 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 my advice and leave him alone.- You would not 
 like him to come up here and inquire about me, 
 and he in his place will not like to find my wife 
 asking impertinent questions.’ 
 
 As he finished speaking he pushed his plate on 
 one side and took up a paper, as if further conver- 
 sation on the subject would not be agreeable to him. 
 
 Leila sighed. She felt somewhat hurt by his 
 manner. Why should he always avoid speaking 
 to her about the children engaged in the circus ? 
 
 He heard her sigh, and he turned to her kindly. 
 
 ‘ Don’t fret, my pet. It’s no use talking over 
 disagreeable topics. I am quite willing to own 
 that Horrox has to be very strict with his troupe, 
 and in saying that I have said all I know about 
 him,’ and he kissed her tenderly. 
 
 But Leila was not satisfied. A terrible sense of 
 uneasiness had come over her. She felt almost 
 certain that some hardship, some wrong was going 
 on. 
 
 She was fully determined to sift the matter for 
 herself. She believed honestly that her husband 
 was as ignorant as she was on the subject, therefore 
 she would be quite sure before she spoke to him that 
 cruelty did exist. If she found the children were 
 ill-treated she would ask his help and assistance. 
 
 The determination and courage which had made 
 her Castelli’s wife now stood her in good stead, and 
 all her energy was devoted to finding out what the 
 strange cries and occasional screams could mean. 
 
 One morning, some days after her conversation 
 with her husband, she was sitting thinking, and 
 watching the busy street beneath. ‘ Marcus ’ was 
 asleep upon her lap, and her work lay untouched 
 on a table by her side. Suddenly her reverie was 
 broken by a bitter cry, a cry so full of pain and 
 distress that Leila jumped up hastily and opened 
 
HORROX. 
 
 8l 
 
 the door. She listened attentively for a few 
 moments, and then the sound of a child^s voice 
 reached her distinctly. Without pausing to con- 
 sider, she shut the dog in and then carefully made 
 her way towards the top staircase, for the sounds 
 proceeded from that direction. The children were 
 at practice in the attic room, and thither she deter- 
 mined to ascend. Very cautiously she crept up, 
 waiting now and again, as every step she took 
 made a creaking sound, and she was afraid it 
 would attract attention to her presence. 
 
 When she reached the top the door was ajar. 
 She peeped through the small aperture, scarcely 
 daring to breathe. She could just see from where 
 she stood the little boy attired in tights. He was 
 deathly pale, whilst the perspiration rolled down 
 his face. He seemed to be trembling from head 
 to foot. 
 
 Are you going to do it or won’t you ? ’ asked 
 the angry voice of a man. ‘ Til take the skin off 
 your back in a moment if you don’t. Go on.’ 
 
 I can t, sir, indeed I can’t. I would if I could,’ 
 replied a plaintive little voice. 
 
 You shall. Once more, will you do what I tell 
 you ? ’ 
 
 The child did not speak, he only stood there 
 a sad, quivering little creature, with none to help 
 him in his awlul ordeal. 
 
 Leila saw Horrox step up to where the child was 
 standing. She heard the thin stick he held in his 
 hand whistle through the air as it fell on the 
 defenceless boy, accompanied by a curse. 
 
 Stop that, do you hear ? ’ cried Leila, flinging 
 operi the door and stepping hastily into the room. 
 
 _ 1 he man for a moment was so astonished at the 
 intrusion that he was fairly taken aback, and the 
 child ran to her for protection, calling as he did so: 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ Oh, save me, save me ! He beats me dreadfully, 
 and I can’t do what he wants. The bar’s too high,’ 
 and he hid his face in her dress. 
 
 Before her she saw the tall, dark, angry man, 
 with a cruel leering face and cold fierce eyes, but 
 this did not daunt her. She was unaware of the 
 desperate nature of his character. 
 
 ‘ What brings you here ? ’ he asked roughly, ad- 
 vancing one step nearer to her. ‘ Be off, out of this 
 room, or I’ll put you out.’ 
 
 'The cries of pain from this wretched child 
 brought me here,’ replied Leila angrily. ' I’ve heard 
 him many times, and to-day I resolved to come 
 and see for myself I saw you strike him, poor 
 child, but you sha’n’t do it again now I’m here.’ 
 
 She spoke as if her presence and strength were 
 sufficient to keep the enemy at bay. As yet she 
 did not realise how powerful he was or of what 
 cruelty he was capable. 
 
 'Oh, sha’n’t I,’ he replied tauntingly. ' As you 
 are fond of listening at other people’s doors, and 
 coming where you are not invited, you can stay 
 here until I choose to let you go.’ 
 
 And before she was aware of his intention he 
 stepped behind her and locked the door. For a 
 moment this disconcerted her, and a vision of her 
 husband rose before her. 
 
 ' Keep close to me, Willie,’ she said as the child 
 began to tremble again. ' He shall not hurt you,’ 
 and she put her delicate white hands round the boy 
 as if to protect him. 
 
 With a terrible oath Horrox called the boy to 
 come to him. 
 
 Leila felt the child move, as if to free himself 
 from her grasp, to obey the master’s call. 
 
 ' Don’t go to him. I’ll take care of you, dear,’ 
 she added soothingly. 
 
HORROX. 83 
 
 Another awful oath fell from the man’s lips, and 
 then Leila felt the boy torn from her grasp. 
 
 ‘You see /happen to be master here, and the 
 boy is mine/ 
 
 ‘ He is not,’ replied Leila stoutly, although her 
 heart began to beat with apprehension. ‘ My 
 husband said none of the children were yours, 
 and you shall not ill-treat Willie — if you do, there’s 
 the law to protect him.’ 
 
 ‘ I’ll show you what my law is,’ he said, with a 
 cruel leer upon his face, as he rapped his cane on 
 the floor. 
 
 ‘You see that, don’t you?’ he said, clutching the 
 boy by the arm, and pointing to the two horizontal 
 bars placed in the centre of the room, with their 
 steel wire guys screwed into the floor. As he spoke 
 he thrust the child on to the thin woollen mattress 
 which stretched between and beyond them. ‘ Now 
 then, one, two, three, jump and catch the bar or 
 ril make you, by .’ 
 
 But the feat was beyond the boy’s power to 
 accomplish, and he missed the bar by several 
 inches. 
 
 Down came the cane upon the thinly clad limbs, 
 until the child screamed out in his agony. 
 
 ‘ Oh, don’t, don’t ! ’ wailed Leila. ‘ How can 
 you be so cruel?’ 
 
 But Horrox did not heed her entreaties. 
 
 She watched his face growing more cruel, more 
 fiendish every moment. 
 
 ‘ Catch that bar, you young fool,’ he roared, ‘ or 
 I’ll do for you.’ 
 
 ‘ I can’t, indeed, I can’t,’ sobbed the frightened 
 child. 
 
 ‘ Do it ! do it ! Do you hear ? ’ 
 
 The child made one more desperate attempt to 
 fulfil his master’s bidding, but alas ! the tiny form 
 
84 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 had not the physical strength. It was beyond his 
 powers to perform such a feat. 
 
 ' He cannot do it. Why do you ask him ? ’ cried 
 Leila, almost in despair. 
 
 ‘ He shall do what I tell him or I’ll show you 
 how I punish him,’ cried Horrox in a passion. 
 ‘You’ve come to see the training, and see it you 
 shall.’ 
 
 Again the child tried and failed, falling with a 
 thud to the mattress. 
 
 In a moment, before Leila could even guess his 
 intentions, Horrox made a dash at the boy, and 
 seizing his hands, beat them until the blood fell 
 upon the tiny tights in bright and hideous spots. 
 
 With a scream of intense anguish the child sank 
 down to the ground, holding his bleeding hands 
 tightly together, as if to lull the pain. 
 
 ‘ There, you young devil, if you can’t do the 
 work for me you sha’n’t do it for anyone else.’ 
 
 As he spoke he kicked the boy savagely. 
 Leila leant for support against the door. She 
 was beginning to feel sick and ill, she gasped 
 with difficulty. 
 
 ‘ You cruel brute ! I will tell my husband.’ 
 
 She could not say more, her heart was beating 
 so fast. She was becoming afraid of the tyrant 
 before her. 
 
 ‘Your husband, faugh! He’s a nice one, he is. 
 Look here, madam,’ he continued in a voice of 
 suppressed passion, ‘ your husband is as cruel as I 
 am — more so, he’s a brute, if you like, and it’s only 
 because you’re such a silly doll, such a half-baked 
 fool, that he daren’t tell you what he is. You’ve 
 never seen him train his horses, have you, my 
 lady innocent ? ’ he added, with a sneer. ‘ Before 
 you come spying here again suppose you try your 
 luck with him. Just take a peep in the ring some 
 
HORROX. 
 
 85 
 
 fine morning when he's rehearsing ; you’ll see 
 another show equal to this, perhaps a little more 
 spiced.' 
 
 The child moaned and sobbed under his breath, 
 and this again roused the man's anger. 
 
 ‘ Hold that infernal row or I'll thrash you 
 again.' 
 
 There was almost silence in the room. Leila 
 was breathing hard, and the boy hushed his sobs. 
 Horrox, thinking a fainting woman would be a 
 nuisance, and rather fearing Castelli's wrath, moved 
 towards the door. 
 
 ‘ Stop ! ' said Leila suddenly, as if gaining courage 
 from his action. 
 
 ‘ My husband has never been guilty of cruelty. 
 You lie ! He's the kindest, the best man that 
 even lived ; but you — but you — you're a cruel 
 devil.' And then she turned to the child, who sat 
 shivering with fear and deadly white. ‘ I'll help 
 you, Willie dear ; wait until to-night and you shall 
 be saved from that brute,' and she pointed towards 
 Horrox, with horror and disgust written upon the 
 handsome face. 
 
 ‘ Ha, ha, ha ! ' he laughed rudely, unlocking the 
 door, ‘ it has given me much pleasure to introduce 
 you to the ‘‘ profession," and it has saved your dear, 
 good — oh, kind, isn't it? — husband a disagreeable 
 job.' 
 
 He pushed her out of the room as he spoke. 
 
 Dizzy, faint, and sick as she was she pleaded 
 once more for the child. 
 
 ‘ Don't hurt him again, he is so small ; promise 
 me you won't, before I go.' 
 
 ^ You be damned ! You won't get over me with 
 your pretty face and cunning ways. Leave the 
 boy to me ; I'll square him directly.' 
 
 ‘ Then I shall appeal to a police officer, and take 
 
86 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 out a summons against you directly my husband 
 comes in/ 
 
 ‘ Oh, I would if I were you. Your husband will 
 tell you how to go about it. He’s so good and 
 kind, you know,’ he added, with a sneer. 
 
 She went to her room and wept. 
 
 The sadness of the child’s face and his faint 
 pathetic cry for mercy had entered her soul like a 
 knife, poisoning her fresh young life. In that hour 
 she had grown years older. Youth had suddenly 
 withdrawn its magic wand. 
 
 Time went on and she still sat thinking, until a 
 telegram was handed her by the landlady’s daughter. 
 It was from her husband, to save her anxiety re- 
 specting his non-return to dinner. Ever since they 
 were married he had never neglected to send her a 
 word if business detained him. She knew it would 
 be late before she saw him, and so she determined 
 to act upon her own judgment with regard to the 
 ill-treated child. 
 
 She hurried down to the police court, and after 
 having seen the superintendent of police, she laid 
 a formal charge against Horrox. She was pro- 
 mised that a summons should be served upon him 
 and the child duly examined at the court. 
 
 Having completed the arrangements she felt 
 happier, but her anxiety to hear more of the chil- 
 dren induced her to seek the landlady, to whom she 
 was determined to relate the whole circumstances. 
 
 That evening, seated in the old-fashioned sitting- 
 room, she told her story of what she had seen, 
 expecting the landlady to be surprised and horrified 
 as was she herself, but to her astonishment she 
 received the intelligence very quietly. 
 
 ‘ He’s the wust trainer I’ve ever had here,’ she 
 began. ‘There’s been nothing but bothers since 
 he came. Some of them is very respectable, but 
 
HORROX. 
 
 87 
 
 this Horrox is a regular brute to them youngsters. 
 Anyhow, he won’t stay here. Ah, you don’t know 
 as much as I do as to how them children suffer.’ 
 
 ‘ They won’t suffer much more,’ added Leila. ‘ I 
 have been after a summons. It will be served upon 
 him to-morrow, and that will end it’ 
 
 She spoke quietly, as if she had done no un- 
 common thing. 
 
 ‘ What — what ! ’ exclaimed the astonished land- 
 lady. ‘ You’ve done what ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Been to the police court and told them how 
 the child is treated. Surely that was the right 
 course to pursue?’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, my dear, what ever will your husband say 
 when he hears of it? One professional never does 
 that to another. I’m afraid there’ll be a terrible 
 shine, that I do. But still if I can help you I will, 
 for I’ve seen enough to make me sick of circus folk 
 for many a long day. I shall try actors next, I 
 think. My house ain’t bad, is it ? ’ she asked, 
 looking round with an admiring gaze. 
 
 ‘ It’s a very nice house ; anything would be 
 better than tolerating cruelty, and even if my hus- 
 band is vexed at the step I have taken, I shall still 
 feel I have done my duty.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, I’m glad I’m not in your shoes anyway. 
 As you have done the deed, I don’t mind backing 
 you up,’ replied the woman emphatically. 
 
 ‘You must tell the truth if you are questioned,’ 
 said Leila gravely. ‘ But tell me what do you 
 know of this “ Guarez Family?”’ 
 
 ‘ Oh ! I’ll tell you all I know,’ said the woman 
 willingly. ‘They came to lodge with me some 
 months ago; there’s six of them — five girls and 
 one boy. That eldest girl, Alice as they call her, 
 was taken very ill after they came here with low 
 fever. Horrox got tired after a time of looking 
 
88 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 after her, and one night the girl was made to per- 
 form on the trapeze, ill and weak as she was. 
 Later on in the same evening she did acrobat 
 work, flip-flaps and other tricks, such as support- 
 ing four of the other children on her shoulders 
 and holding them out by her hands. When she 
 came home he abused her awfully. I was that 
 sorry for her that the next day I made a point of 
 watching for her to see if I could speak to her 
 alone, but I got no chance. The children are 
 never allowed to receive letters ; and once when 
 one came for Alice I managed to smuggle it to 
 her on the stairs, but he beat her later when he 
 found it out ; indeed he works them all day and 
 thrashes them cruelly. I caught him once beating 
 Alice with a broom handle. I interfered several 
 times, but having no husband, I am really afraid 
 to go near him. To-day the boy came down for 
 some hot water. I asked him what ailed his 
 hands, for they were bandaged. He said he had 
 burnt them. You see he dared not tell me. But 
 I knew they hadn’t a fire upstairs. I took him 
 into my room and gave him an orange, and then 
 the little man told me the truth. Bless his heart ! 
 I could have cried, that I could. I made up my 
 mind then and there that Horrox should pack up 
 his traps and go, and so he shall.’ 
 
 ‘ Why don’t they run away ? ’ asked Leila, who 
 had grown pale and troubled during the narrative. 
 
 ‘ They’re all apprenticed to him, my dear. He 
 pays the parents perhaps as much as thirty shil- 
 lings a week for the use of the elder children. And 
 those kind of parents don’t care as long as the 
 man sends the money. And where are they going 
 to run, with no one to take them in ? No clothes, 
 no money, although Alice did tell me she’d run 
 away at the first opportunity.’ 
 
HORROX. 89 
 
 ‘ Why don't they tell someone — a policeman — 
 in the street ? ’ asked Leila innocently. 
 
 ‘ Why, bless you, they never go out alone. He's 
 too sharp for that,' said the woman knowingly; 
 
 ‘ and several times, when the children have by 
 some means reached the police, the trainers get 
 them off to the Continent That's what Horrox 
 will do long before the summons comes on for 
 hearing. You'll have your trouble for nothing 
 I believe.' 
 
 ‘ Surely the law will protect the children,' said 
 Leila somewhat sadly. ‘ I must try to do what 
 I can.' 
 
 She was determined to strike at the root of 
 the evil, to expose rudely the horrors she had 
 witnessed, to prevent, if possible, the children being 
 shut out from protection and being forgotten by 
 the world's thoughtless, forgetting throng. 
 
 Leila went to her room that night a saddened 
 woman. She was stricken with a terrible dread. 
 She has just begun to know, feel, and see the care 
 and pain which children bear for the people's 
 pleasure. Death, she thought, would be mercy 
 compared with the daily toil and anguish suffered 
 so patiently, so uncomplainingly. 
 
 She yearned to set the captives free. Hush ! 
 there was a footstep. It was her husband's. ‘ He 
 will help me to save the little thin, wan boy from 
 sufferings. He will prevent the cruelty, for my 
 sake. He loves me so much.' 
 
 There was a great sorrow before her. The clouds 
 were drawing nearer to the bright star, but she did 
 not see them. 
 
90 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UNPROFESSIONAL. 
 
 The charmed spell, the sunlight, and the glory were 
 passing away. 
 
 Sorrow and anxious care were very near. 
 
 Life’s warfare was beginning. The gloom was 
 about to rest on the flower, blighting it for ever. 
 
 Leila saw a terrible change come over her hus- 
 band’s face when she told him of all she had seen 
 and the information she had given the police 
 respecting Horrox. 
 
 She had expected he would give her sympathy, 
 and offer prompt assistance, instead of which he 
 turned upon her angrily. 
 
 ‘You have done this thing, Leila, without even 
 asking me first. Do you forget I am your husband?’ 
 
 He moved impatiently as he spoke. His face 
 grew very white and stern. 
 
 ‘ If you are my husband, surely you cannot blame 
 me for putting an end to such cruelty. It shall not 
 continue in any house where I am living,’ replied 
 Leila, with determination. 
 
 ‘ And your interference will not be permitted,’ 
 said Castelli coldly. 
 
 ‘Perhaps not mine, but there are the police to 
 interfere, and I’ll take care they shall. Poor little 
 boy ! ’ she said with deep sympathy. 
 
 ‘ Voii. will take the thing in hand, will you ? ’ 
 replied Castelli, with suppressed passion. ‘I’ll take 
 care you shall not.’ 
 
 Leila looked at her husband in astonishment. 
 He had never, till now, spoken an unkind word to 
 her. He had been so gentle, so kind, so glad to 
 listen to her various schemes and ideas. Suddenly 
 
UNPROFESSIONAL. 
 
 91 
 
 he seemed transformed, his eyes had lost their 
 kindliness, and he flashed a very angry look at her 
 when he spoke. 
 
 ‘ Emilio, do you mean it ? Do you really mean 
 what you are saying ?' 
 
 ‘ All, and a great deal more. Sit down,' he 
 added sharply, ‘ I have something to say to you.' 
 
 Leila had been standing by the table, and his 
 command aggravated her intensely. 
 
 ' I prefer to stand,' she replied curtly. 
 
 ‘ And I prefer that you should sit down. Leila, 
 do as I tell you.' 
 
 Once again the old authoritative tone made her 
 feel his power, and she moved towards the chair. 
 He was silent until she had obeyed him, and then 
 he continued, — 
 
 ‘ You are my wife, and you must make up your 
 mind to act as I wish. You have done a most 
 foolish thing. I never heard of such a case ex- 
 cepting once, when two circus men appealed to a 
 British Consul in Spain, saying that some English 
 child was ill-treated by his master,^ and a pretty 
 upset there was over the brat. It is not usual for 
 one person to split of another in our profession ; 
 we leave that job to those who are meddlesome 
 and ignorant.' 
 
 She flushed scarlet, annoyed at his words, which 
 seemed to imply that he thought her guilty and 
 ignorant. 
 
 ‘ It's ignorant people who dare not speak ; it’s 
 not meddling to protect tiny children from brutal 
 men — you know it is not,' she added with passion. 
 
 ‘ I know it’s your place to interfere. There’ll 
 be a fine row to-morrow when Horrox finds out 
 what you have done.' 
 
 * This is founded on the case of William Gregory, sent home 
 from a circus by the British Consul at Barcelona in the Alherio^ 1889. 
 
92 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ It will serve him right I do not care in the 
 least/ she added calmly. 
 
 ‘ But I do ; it may cause both Horrox and me 
 to lose our engagements here. Proprietors do not 
 care for a police court advertisement. Leila, you 
 have behaved like a fool.* 
 
 ‘ The man Horrox is the fool, I think/ replied 
 Leila angrily, ‘ and don’t apply that epithet to me. 
 It’s not kind or polite, and I should be glad if you 
 will tell me if the proprietors of circuses are un- 
 aware of these horrible cruelties. I gather that is 
 so, or why should you be afraid of the result of my 
 action ? * 
 
 Leila, by being constantly with her husband, had 
 developed a very determined spirit. Naturally there 
 was much of her mother s indomitable perseverance 
 and courage, even if the cause was on the wrong 
 lines, and her marriage with Castelli had fostered 
 it largely, and added to her more experienced life. 
 She was quite capable of standing her ground 
 firmly on behalf of the little tortured child. 
 
 ‘ Of course the proprietors don’t know how the 
 training is done,* replied Castelli hastily. ‘ They 
 advertise for a show,** performing horses, acrobats, 
 gymnasts. Do you think they are going to ques- 
 tion how and by what method they are trained? 
 The “show** is perfect. It will “draw** into the 
 treasury plenty of gold. What else do they care 
 for? IPs not their place to ask questions. Per- 
 haps some of the circus proprietors would make 
 the devil of a fuss if they knew how the training is 
 done, but you see they do not.* 
 
 ‘Then there is cruelty in the training, and you 
 knew it all the time/ said Leila in a grieved tone. 
 
 Castelli smiled, not one of those gracious smiles 
 which had fascinated her in the early days of their 
 courtship. 
 
UNPROFESSIONAL. 93 
 
 ‘ Of course I have known it all along, but it was 
 no use to worry you with a lot of details.* 
 
 ‘ Then you have grossly deceived me/ said Leila. 
 ‘You have lied to me, put me off with any story, 
 but I have found you out at last/ 
 
 ‘ Hold your tongue, Leila. You are forgetting 
 yourself.* 
 
 ‘ I will not* 
 
 ‘ Listen to me or leave the room/ said Castelli, 
 now fast losing his temper. ‘ I*m not afraid to own 
 my opinions before my wife, and now I will tell 
 you straight off that force and cruelty are and must 
 be employed to teach children their difficult and 
 dangerous feats. If the brats won’t work, and turn 
 obstinate, there’s nothing for it but the whip, and 
 I approve of the method if success is to be won ; 
 how else is such perfection to be obtained ? * 
 
 ‘You approve of it/ gasped Leila, ‘you who 
 pretended cruelty did not pay ! I know now why 
 you kept me so carefully from going to the circus. 
 You were afraid I should hate you if I knew the 
 truth. How could you deceive me? ’ 
 
 Her voice was soft and pathetic, and its tone 
 struck Castelli painfully. Yet he was determined 
 to put a stop to Leila taking proceedings against 
 members of his profession. She must see that he 
 was quite determined or mischief would come of it. 
 
 ‘Yes, I approve of discipline and severe measures 
 when necessary, and in our line it is necessary.* 
 
 ‘ Then I am sorry I ever came amongst you/ said 
 Leila sadly. All her anger was gone. She was so 
 bitterly disappointed that her heart sank within her, 
 and she murmured faintly: ‘All Horrox said was 
 true then — all — all — ’ 
 
 ‘ Go to bed, Leila, it is nearly one o’clock. For 
 heaven’s sake don’t do the tragedy business. It 
 does not suit you. 
 
94 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 She never moved from her chair. His cruelty 
 of words had shattered her nerves, overstrained 
 her excitable and loving disposition. 
 
 ‘ Do you hear me ? Go to your room. We’ve 
 said all there is to say at present. Drop the 
 subject until I choose to speak to you again.’ 
 
 She rose mechanically to do his bidding. As 
 she passed him she hesitated one moment, and 
 then, as if breathing out the most tender love, she 
 said, — 
 
 ‘Emilio, will you kiss me?’ She laid her little 
 hand on his coat sleeve, as if to draw him nearer 
 to her. 
 
 He stood looking at her, stern, austere, and 
 unbending — a giant in his strength compared to 
 the fragile figure before him. 
 
 ‘ No, Leila, not to-night. I am very vexed with 
 you — very.’ 
 
 She turned away, choking down a sob as she 
 did so. The anguish of that moment was supreme. 
 
 She went to her room, exhausted, weary, 
 bereaved of her husband’s love and kindness. 
 Dispirited, and a little frightened at what she had 
 done, she opened the window, as if hoping to gain 
 some comfort from the clear, still air. She saw 
 the moon was flooding the dark, grim-looking 
 houses with a pale glimmer, making the great 
 town look almost ghastly ; and the bright cold 
 stars made the scene very impressive, strange, and 
 solemn. 
 
 But she was too crushed to notice the beauty of 
 the early hours, the best and brightest before the 
 dawn. She could only remember that the mask 
 had fallen, and that the plain unvarnished truth 
 was before her, to be borne as best she could. 
 She had awakened to stern reality, and the waking 
 robbed her of her joyous daydreams. Her happi- 
 
UNPROFESSIONAL. 
 
 95 
 
 ness was like a delicate rosebud, born, but de- 
 stroyed before the time to flower, or like the frail, 
 tender blossom that would never turn to fruit. 
 
 She had trusted him implicitly. A doubt had 
 never crossed her mind that he told her aught 
 but truth, and now her faith was bruised and she 
 could not heal it. 
 
 But she loved him still. 
 
 When the morning came, Castelli went down 
 to the circus early. He had been coldly polite to 
 Leila, indeed almost kind, but he had not kissed 
 her or treated her in any way as usual. 
 
 All because she tried to wipe away childish 
 tears, and to soothe a little broken heart. 
 
 ' I say, Castelli, your fine lady wife has made 
 a nice muddle down here. Horrox tells me that 
 she had a summons served upon him this morning 
 for beating one of the troupe. Is that so?’ asked 
 the manager. 
 
 ' Yes,’ said Castelli, ‘ it’s quite true, I am ashamed 
 to say.’ 
 
 ‘Well, he’s going ofif to the Continent this after- 
 noon, so he declares, the whole “ family ” too, but 
 I think he should remain at his post ; it will make 
 us short for the performance.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, he’ll be here right enough,’ said Castelli. 
 He was anxious that the manager should be 
 appeased or awkward questions might be asked, 
 although he knew that even then Horrox was on 
 his way to Paris. 
 
 ‘ I hope so ; he has another month to run here. 
 But did he really beat one of his apprentices ? ’ 
 
 ‘ According to a woman’s point of view, yes ; from 
 ours, most decidedly not. My wife is a lady, refined, 
 educated — well, a thorough lady, with a tender heart 
 — and knows no more of circus life than the unborn 
 babe. I suppose the child cried out before he was 
 
96 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 hurt, and my wife went up to the top room where 
 the Guarez Family practised, and she saw Horrox 
 strike the child with a cane — no more than a school- 
 master might do.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, she’s one of the modern women faddists, is 
 she ? ’ said the manager ; ‘ one of these intolerant, 
 interfering persons who belong to half-a-dozen 
 ranting societies. Take my advice, Castelli, and 
 put her to some work — a lady wife is no use to any 
 man in our profession. I suppose you leave her 
 to spend the day as best she can ; no wonder she 
 gets into mischief You must employ her mind; 
 but for heaven’s sake keep her from making fools 
 of us all in this style.’ 
 
 ‘ It will be the last time she will ever do it I can 
 promise you,’ said Castelli, who began to feel very 
 uncomfortable and angry. 
 
 ‘ Don’t keep her at home doing nothing ; that’s 
 the mischief,’ repeated the manager, as he walked 
 off without waiting for Castelli to reply. 
 
 Castelli was enraged to think that his wife had 
 put him into such a degrading position in the 
 circus. To have her talked over, and his manage- 
 ment of her, drove him to think some hard things 
 of the girl to whom a few short months before he 
 had pledged such loving vows. 
 
 He turned to go towards the stables, when Hans, 
 the vaulter and clown, came up to him. 
 
 ‘ Is it true, Castelli, that your wife has run a 
 summons on Horrox ? My, she must be a good 
 ’un, and no mistake ! I’m glad she don’t belong to 
 me if she has.’ 
 
 ‘ It is not for you to question what my wife has 
 done,’ said Castelli loftily. 
 
 ‘ Well, I suppose it is not, now I come to think of 
 it,’ replied the man, who kept the fun going in the 
 ring for the children, and grown-up folks too. 
 
UNPROFESSIONAL. 97 
 
 ‘ Pity you did not think before you spoke/ said 
 Castelli. 
 
 ' So I did. I thought what a fool she must be to 
 do it, and what a fool you are to let her. So I 
 thinked a think, didn’t I ? ’ he added, putting on 
 a tone of voice he used in the ring and winking his 
 eye at a groom standing near. 
 
 ‘ No one wants to hear your jokes/ said Castelli, 
 now furious. ‘ Keep them to yourself.’ 
 
 ‘ Couldn’t, couldn’t oblige you anyhow. You see 
 I am a '' quibber ” by profession — bred in it, born in 
 it, paid for it, and shall die in it/ and a good- 
 natured smile overspread the man’s face. ‘ I really 
 only asked you the question for fun, because, when 
 I heard of the summons, I was thinking what a 
 stunning joke it would be if she tried the same 
 game with you and your gee-gees,” ’ and his face 
 brightened at the mere idea of such an event. 
 
 ' It will be time to think of that when it occurs/ 
 said Castelli sullenly. 
 
 ‘ I should think it would indeed/ replied the clown 
 with emphasis. ‘ But forewarned is forearmed, and 
 I’m blowed if I’d trust her not to get you into some 
 scrape.’ 
 
 He hummed a popular air as he turned away, 
 and Castelli went to the stables. 
 
 Whanks was there, busy with the horses. He 
 came up to his master. 
 
 ' Excuse me, sir, but be it true that Madam has 
 summoned Horrox for cruelty to the children ? 
 You see, sir, I serves you, and all the circus keep 
 asking me if it is true, and I don’t like to be kept 
 in the dark. It looks darned queer, in my position.’ 
 
 ‘ Yes/ replied Castelli, ‘ it is correct. As all these 
 confounded busybodies seem to have heard it, you 
 may as well know the truth. Don’t ask me any more 
 questions. You’ve got your answer, once and for all.’ 
 G 
 
98 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ God bless Miss Leila ! ' 
 
 ‘ She is my wife, Whanks, not Miss Leila at all/ 
 broke in Castelli quickly. 
 
 ‘ Beg pardon, sir. Well, heaven bless her, her 
 heart’s in the right place! I wish there was more 
 like her, that I do — a dear good creature 1 I only 
 wish my aunt’s money would come and I’d help Miss 
 Leila — bless my soul, I should have said Madam 
 — to protect the children, that I would.' 
 
 ‘ Be off to your work,’ was Castelli’s reply. 
 
 The man touched his dirty greasy cap as a token 
 of respect, and shuffled off to the horses, and then 
 Castelli wended his way home to his disconsolate 
 wife. 
 
 He had determined upon the punishment he 
 should inflict on Leila for her indiscretion. He 
 would take her away from her quiet home life, from 
 her books and dogs, and make her work as other 
 women work. 
 
 But he did not count the cost of that labour for 
 Leila. He forgot she was like a piece of delicate 
 china which needed very careful handling. 
 
 Others went through the toil, and she should do 
 the same. She would have no time then to find 
 fault with the training of children. 
 
 But he was too wise to keep up the feud which 
 had arisen between his wife and himself. She must 
 look her best, and do him credit, and for this end he 
 would meet her kindly. 
 
 She was sitting in a low chair as he entered, and 
 he was really sorry to see her looking so wan and 
 ill. She flushed slightly as he called her name. 
 
 ‘ Leila, have you a kiss for me ? ' he asked her 
 gently, as he put his face close to hers. 
 
 She did not reply, but burst into a flood of pas- 
 sionate tears. The reaction was almost too much 
 for her to bear. 
 
UNPROFESSIONAL. 
 
 99 
 
 ‘ Don't cry, Leila, niy girl. The best of friends 
 fall out sometimes. I daresay I was a little too 
 rough with you, but I was dreadfully put out about 
 that confounded summons. You see, Horrox has 
 gone off to avoid the hearing, and down at our 
 “ show" they are not too well pleased.' 
 
 ‘ He has gone, and the children too ? ' asked Leila 
 between her sobs. 
 
 ‘Yes, gone off to the Continent,' said Castelli. 
 
 ‘ Poor little Willie, and I promised to help him, 
 and now he has gone.' 
 
 This thought brought the tears again in abund- 
 ance. 
 
 ‘ Don't fret like this, Leila, for heaven's sake. 
 Be a brave girl. You will be quite ill,' said Castelli 
 kindly. ‘ Besides, I have something cheerful to tell 
 you. What do you think it is ? ' 
 
 She shook her head sadly, as if nothing could 
 bring back either her happiness or her smiles. 
 
 ‘ Well, I have been thinking you must be very 
 dull here alone all day. I ought to have thought of 
 that before. What do you think of coming down 
 to the circus and learning professional riding — the 
 haut ecole^ of course, I mean? You ride so well 
 now that you would soon become an expert, and 
 come mounted into the ring with me. It would be 
 nice to ride together, Leila, and make a really pretty 
 “show." Will you try?' 
 
 She brightened at the idea. A little of the sun- 
 shine came back to the sad girlish face at the 
 thought of the lonely days, now at an end, to be 
 replaced by happy hours spent with her husband. 
 
 ‘ I should like it very much, very much indeed. 
 It has been lonely here sometimes. The days seem 
 as if they would never pass. The change will be 
 delightful.' 
 
 She almost looked herself again, and he was 
 
lOO 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 truly glad to see the gloom dispersing and the old 
 happy joyousness take its place. 
 
 ‘Well, by next week I daresay we can get your 
 habit and skirt made, and then Til mount you on 
 “ Mayflower.” She’s a splendid mare, and carries 
 a lady to perfection. She has no vice — a baby 
 could ride her — one of the finest in my stud,’ said 
 Castelli proudly. 
 
 ‘ How kind you are, to think of me when you 
 are so busy,’ said Leila gratefully. 
 
 ‘ Well, my precious little wifie must not sit here 
 and mope any longer. Come, will you kiss me ? ’ 
 
 She put her arms lovingly round his neck, and 
 he stooped and kissed her many times. 
 
 ‘ Now we are good friends again, eh ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, oh yes,’ she answered gladly, looking up at 
 him with such a glad smile. 
 
 She was happy once more, yet her love had 
 received a rude shock, and she could not forget 
 all he had told her, and the deception practised 
 upon her. She forgave him, but still the white 
 page of her married life had a blot marring its 
 fairness. 
 
 She could never feel quite the same, her heart 
 had been so deeply wrung, and there was one 
 slight wound which would never heal — the canker 
 of a first quarrel, the remembrance of the first 
 harsh words, the first wane in the brightness of their 
 gladdened life. 
 
 ‘ It shall be the last unhappiness,’ Leila said to 
 herself, as she lay down to rest that night, ‘ the 
 very last’ 
 
 But the future was veiled. 
 
JOINING THE PROFESSION. 
 
 lOI 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 JOINING THE PROFESSION. 
 
 A KNOT of grooms and loungers were standing 
 near the ring, gazing with admiring eyes at the 
 dexterity of Castelli’s young wife. 
 
 The trained horse knew its work better than 
 its rider, but she was quick to take the cues, and 
 they both seemed to yield, as if to assist each 
 other. 
 
 Leila possessed a natural talent for riding. She 
 had no fear. During her childhood she had been 
 several times chidden by her riding-master for sheer 
 recklessness. Most days since her marriage she 
 had mounted a horse placed at her disposal by her 
 husband, and had gone miles into the country with 
 faithful old Whanks as guide and protector ; but 
 riding quietly just where she pleased was very 
 different to displaying the talents of a celebrated 
 ‘trick horse.’ But she was an apt pupil, and soon won 
 the admiration of the artistes engaged in the circus. 
 
 On this particular morning the rehearsal had 
 been a great success, and Castelli felt very proud 
 of Leila s equestrian feats. Even the grooms and 
 attendants were excited to plaudits. She held 
 her seat firmly whilst the horse knelt down, and 
 performed other difficult tricks. 
 
 Castelli saw money in his beautiful wife, and he 
 determined to lose no time in bringing her before 
 the public. 
 
 ‘You must try her again in the waltz, Leila,’ 
 said Castelli, ‘ but you had better rest her for a 
 moment or two.’ 
 
 Leila did as her husband directed, but the 
 beautiful, impatient creature was difficult to hold 
 
102 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 in. Castelli saw her trouble, and went up to the 
 horse, putting up his finger before it. In a moment 
 it ceased his restless pawing of the sawdust and 
 became subdued. Leila was astonished at the 
 docility of the animal. She did not realise that 
 his training had been forced by the whip for re- 
 sistance and a carrot for obedience. 
 
 Whilst she was resting she caught sight of a 
 woman amongst a group of men who had just 
 strolled into the circus. She had seen the face 
 before, but not since the dear courting days at Sand- 
 cliffe. It was Cleo. There was no mistaking the 
 handsome face which looked at her with such 
 scorn and pride. 
 
 To Leila it seemed as if she said, ‘ Oh, you’re come 
 to this, are you ? ’ and she felt almost ashamed that 
 she should be seen there in the ring as one of them, 
 for had not Castelli boasted everywhere that she 
 was a lady, and not to be connected with the circus 
 at all. Of course he had led everyone to believe 
 that the choice had been his wife’s, and that he had 
 consented to please her, and to this arrangement 
 Leila had given a tacit consent. 
 
 In a moment she realised that this woman had 
 been meeting her husband since their marriage, and 
 had now probably taken an engagement at the 
 same circus. The very idea of this brought the 
 blood to her face in an angry flush. All her interest 
 in her work was gone for that day, and she signalled 
 to her husband, who was chatting with another 
 trainer in the middle of the ring, to come to her. 
 
 ' I should like to dismount ; I don’t think I shall 
 ride any more to-day.’ 
 
 ‘ Are you ill, Leila, that you make such a strange 
 request? You must remember it is business here, 
 not a place for me to indulge you in absurd fancies,’ 
 said Castelli sternly. 
 
JOINING THE PROFESSION. IO3 
 
 ‘ I’m not ill, but I will not ride with that dreadful 
 woman Cleo standing there ; I will not be in the 
 same place with her. I am going home,’ replied 
 Leila, with great determination. 
 
 ‘ You are not] said Castelli quietly. ‘ The woman 
 has as much right here as you have. She begins 
 an engagement here this week, so you must meet 
 sometimes. Don’t be foolish, Leila, or you will 
 make me angry.’ 
 
 ‘ I shall call one of the grooms, for I mean to 
 go,’ said Leila, ' I’m not bound to work here.’ 
 
 ' What you have undertaken / will see you 
 carry out, and as ringmaster I command you 
 remain here until I consider your rehearsal at 
 an end.’ 
 
 His face grew very stern and hard. The group 
 of which Cleo was one wondered at the change, and 
 surmised that the conversation between the couple 
 had not a very pleasant purport. 
 
 Castelli saw that wondering eyes were upon them, 
 and to avoid further observation he ordered in a 
 loud voice the grooms to bring in the five-barred 
 gate for Leila to take her leap. He approached the 
 horse, and examined bit and bridle carefully. 
 
 ‘ If you expect me to take the gate safely to-day 
 let me tell you I have not the courage to do so,’ 
 said Leila, trembling with passion. 
 
 She had only gone over the gate a few times, 
 and Castelli always took every precaution to ensure - 
 her safety. He was anxious now to steady her 
 before the leap. 
 
 ‘ Leila, do be brave,’ he added kindly. ‘ Let 
 them all see what you can do. Would you fail 
 because an enemy is here? Rather show her how 
 clever you are, and how proud I am of you.’ 
 
 His words were sufficient to give her back all 
 her courage, all her determination. He could not 
 
104 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 have fired her ambition better than by uttering 
 those few sentences. 
 
 The men placed the gate in position, and 
 Castelli called to Leila, — 
 
 ' Are you ready ? Sit back, quite back, and 
 you’ll be safe. She’ll take you over in good style. 
 
 And she did. Without the shadow of a mistake 
 she cleared the gate, and landed with ease on the 
 other side. 
 
 ‘Take care of the door frame. Madam,' said one 
 of the grooms. ‘You’re apt to catch your ’ead if 
 she makes for the stables sudden like.’ 
 
 ‘ Thank you, that would be a terrible death,’ said 
 Leila, grateful for the man’s warning. 
 
 Her husband came up to her and rewarded her 
 with a smile, and Leila was gratified with her 
 success. 
 
 But there was one there who could have cursed 
 the groom for his timely warning, one whose cruel 
 wrath against an innocent woman knew no softening: 
 in her breast was buried undying hate, she would 
 have slain the fair rider had she dared. Passion, 
 jealousy, and unconquered love ruled her still. 
 
 Leila was happy in her work, and as yet she 
 had witnessed no cruelty in the ring during the 
 short time she was at the circus. 
 
 One morning she strolled down earlier than 
 usual. She passed the horses in their stalls, and 
 spoke a kindly word to the three boarhounds, 
 which were playing in an unused stall, and then she 
 made her way into the circus. She began to feel 
 at home now in the great, bare, cold building, and 
 her husband allowed her to go in and out pretty 
 much as she liked, as long as he was about ; but 
 business had taken him from the circus this one 
 day, and Signor Pandini was delegated to act as 
 riding-master for the occasion. 
 
JOINING THE PROFESSION. lOS 
 
 Suddenly a dull, continuous sound of horses’ 
 hoofs reached Leila’s ear, and at intervals the 
 crack of a whip — someone was rehearsing — she 
 would go and see who it was, for she was young 
 enough in her profession not to have lost any of 
 the charm of the life, and her curiosity was as keen 
 as ever. An infamous oath, followed by the crack 
 of a whip and a shrill cry of physical pain, smote 
 her with apprehension. She hastily put aside the 
 heavy curtains which hung over the great doors, 
 and the horrors of the ring burst upon her. 
 
 The daylight was streaming in through the high 
 windows, making the circus look cold and cheerless 
 with its hundreds of vacant seats ; there was no 
 one to be seen excepting an angry man in the ring, 
 and a mere girl, dressed in a wide grey skirt and 
 knickerbockers, loose at the knees. She had made 
 several ' slips,’ and had just received a severe cut or 
 two from her master. She was very pale, and her 
 face was stamped with an expression of the greatest 
 fear and suffering. Leila stepped back into the 
 shade of the curtains — she would not retreat farther, 
 and she dare not let her presence be found out. 
 
 Again and again the hoop was held by the 
 trainer, but from want of courage the girl failed 
 to spring at the last moment. 
 
 Leila saw her taken from the horse, and such 
 punishment bestowed on her with a thin white- 
 thonged whip, that she withdrew with a shudder. 
 
 Her cries for mercy, and the degradation of the 
 girl’s position, made Leila grow very faint. She 
 was rooted to the spot by the terrible spectacle, 
 but she dare not move. There had been a time 
 when she would have called for assistance, and 
 led the way herself, but somehow she had grown 
 strangely afraid of Castelli ; and she did not wish 
 to incur his anger if it were possible to avoid it. 
 
I 06 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 When the man had expended his wrath, he 
 kicked her several times, and then her awful lesson 
 came to an end. 
 
 Leila escaped from her hiding-place, and betook 
 herself to the office used by her husband and Signor 
 Pandini. She felt ill and sick at heart. And had 
 it not been for incurring Castelli’s displeasure she 
 would have begged Pandini to dispense with her 
 lesson. 
 
 He was waiting, however, and he remarked as 
 she entered, — 
 
 ‘ I wonder if Dutasti is out of the ring yet? He 
 keeps his pupil such a darned long time.’ 
 
 ‘ I think the lesson is over,’ said Leila faintly, 
 ^ for I met him a moment ago.’ 
 
 ‘ Then we’ll proceed to business at once,’ said 
 Pandini, and together they went into the ring. The 
 horse was brought out, and Leila went through her 
 duties mechanically, as if her thoughts were far 
 away from the circus. Once or twice Pandini 
 noticed her inattention, and fearing she might loose 
 control over her horse, he called her to order rather 
 sharply. ‘ I think you might do your best. Madam, 
 even if your husband is away; it’s rather ungracious 
 to ride your worst,’ he said in a vexed tone. 
 
 Leila felt the man spoke the truth, and she 
 threw off her distress for the time, and gave all 
 her energy to her work. 
 
 ' That’s good. Madam, very good,’ said Pandini 
 from time to time. And when her lesson was 
 over she was still more gratified to hear his warm 
 approval of her efforts. 
 
 Then she went in search of the wretched ill- 
 treated girl, whose name she heard was Louie 
 Paran. But a week passed before she was able to 
 have any conversation with her. After that she 
 had one or two secret meetings with her. 
 
JOINING THE PROFESSION. IO7 
 
 Leila was horrified to hear of her constant 
 sufferings. 
 
 ‘ I am kept practising morning, noon, and night, 
 for if it is not horses it’s “ bending,” which is con- 
 tortion, you know. There is no rest for me,’ said 
 the girl sadly, ‘ and I am covered with bruises ; 
 sometimes I ache in all my limbs so that I cannot 
 sleep at night. My life is a misery to me.’ 
 
 ‘Well, it cannot last for ever,’ said Leila with 
 great compassion ; ‘ the day shall come when you 
 will be free, as others are.’ 
 
 The girl sighed, the hope of that seemed so far 
 away. 
 
 ‘ I am only sixteen,’ she replied ; ‘ I have five 
 years yet to serve my master.’ 
 
 ‘ Is there no appeal against such cruel treatment?’ 
 asked Leila ; ‘ have you ever made an attempt to 
 get protected ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Never. One of our girls managed somehow or 
 other to summons her master, but the magistrate 
 dismissed it, and she got the worst of it. The 
 summonses are always set on one side, the girl gets 
 no chance against her master. There are lots of 
 dodges, heaps of means to get out of the scrape. 
 The girl is told she must tell the magistrate she is 
 very happy, and the parents are paid to declare how 
 much better in health the girl is since she was 
 apprenticed, and in due course the master has the 
 pull. I wouldn’t try,’ she added ; ‘ I’d rather suffer 
 to my death than take the risk of losing the day. 
 Ah ! you don’t know what the existence is. Some- 
 times I think I shall put an end to my life ; death 
 cannot be worse to bear — it can only come once, 
 and then the pain is over.’ 
 
 ‘ Be brave, dear girl ; I will see what I can do. 
 Don’t do anything rash, promise me you will not,’ 
 said Leila in distress. 
 
I 08 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ I shall not have the chance, I am afraid,’ replied 
 the girl wearily. ' I only wish I could see a lady 
 who was the wife of the proprietor of a big Conti- 
 nental circus. She was English herself. She was 
 very kind to me, and saved me a terrible beating 
 one day when I was giddy and kept falling. You 
 see, my master did not mind her, knowing she be- 
 longed to the circus and up to all the secrets, but 
 she begged him to leave off, so he did, after abusing 
 her for interfering. I heard she is coming here on 
 business, but even if she does I may not get a word 
 with her.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, you shall; what is her name, Louie? I 
 will look out for her and mention you to her,’ said 
 Leila in a glad tone of voice. 
 
 ‘Madame Meurice,’ replied the girl; ‘but I am 
 afraid the chances of her coming are very small,’ 
 she added desperately. 
 
 ‘ Shall I write to her ? ’ asked Leila. 
 
 ‘ No, no, pray don’t do that, it might all be found 
 out,’ said the girl hastily, all the while fear of her 
 master’s anger rising before her. 
 
 ‘You can trust me, my dear,’ said Leila gently. 
 ‘ I shall never mention a word of this conversation. 
 You must believe me, I am so sorry for you,’ and 
 she pressed a kiss on the girl’s thin cheeks. 
 
 The little act of kindness touched Louie Paran’s 
 heart, and a few silent tears coursed down her face. 
 
 Poor child, she so rarely heard loving words, and 
 had forgotten who had kissed her last ; it was so 
 many years ago, it seemed like a dream. 
 
 ‘ Good-bye,’ said Leila; ‘I will do the best I can 
 to find your friend, and one of these days I shall 
 come and chat with you again.’ 
 
 ‘ If you get the chance,’ replied the girl sadly, as 
 she turned away, but happier for the tenderness 
 which had gladdened the gloom. 
 
JOINING THE PROFESSION. IO9 
 
 When Leila and her husband were sitting 
 together that evening she never mentioned the 
 incident of the day. It had become usual for her 
 now to keep her troubles and vexations to herself. 
 
 Castelli stood lighting his cigar at the candle, 
 and then, after settling himself comfortably in the 
 arm-chair, said, — 
 
 ‘ That Canadian skating show has got the sack 
 from the manager down at our place. Rather 
 hard considering they’ve only been married eight 
 months.’ 
 
 Leila’s sympathy was aroused at once, and she 
 asked, — 
 
 ‘ Why have they left ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, because the wife is ill,’ replied Castelli 
 carelessly, ‘ and she will not put on a smile to the 
 public, and lets every fool know she is unhappy. 
 Her husband told me that she had been crying all 
 day before she went on the rink, and now they 
 have both to turn out. The managers do not want 
 people who show when they are ill — you can’t 
 expect it.’ 
 
 Castelli spoke in an offhand, curt manner, and 
 betrayed no sympathy with the suffering woman. 
 
 ‘ What a shame ! ’ said Leila ; ‘ she cannot help 
 being ill.’ 
 
 ‘ No one said she could, but she can help show- 
 ing it. The people pay to be amused, not to be 
 depressed and made sad,’ replied her husband in 
 a cold tone. 
 
 ‘ It seems to me,’ said Leila, ‘ that amusement 
 must be procured for those who can pay for it 
 whether others suffer or not.’ 
 
 ‘Just so ; as long as the people clap down their 
 money we must provide them with what they 
 pay for.’ 
 
 ‘ And they require the performance of feats at 
 
no 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 the expense of cruelty and hardships/ replied Leila 
 with disgust. 
 
 ‘ The public don’t care a curse as long as they 
 get their shilling’s-worth/ said Castelli quietly. 
 
 ' I believe they would if they knew the truth. 
 It’s want of knowledge not want of heart which 
 makes them applaud the very things which have 
 cost the artiste the greatest suffering, the sharpest 
 pain. Dare you or any master of apprentices 
 train in public ? You would not like all the world 
 to know that the whip has so prominent a place ; 
 but some day the truth will out, and then shall 
 come the remedy.’ 
 
 ‘ Rubbish ! ’ said Castelli angrily. ‘ What a pity 
 you are not a Methodist preacher. You’d better 
 hold your tongue. I daresay I shall live to hear 
 that you have joined some confounded society 
 which gets big subscriptions from the weak-minded 
 rich to enable them to poke their noses where they 
 are not wanted. It’s time to put a stop to your 
 interference. At anyrate, I don’t intend you to 
 pose as a philanthropist, so make your mind up 
 to that. A woman’s place is to do as she is told, 
 and not go gadding about talking like a fool. 
 Philanthropy be hanged.’ 
 
 ‘ I wish there were more philanthropists/ said Leila 
 gravely, ‘ and more protection for the children.’ 
 
 ‘Philanthropists be hanged!’ replied Castelli with 
 rising passion. 
 
 She rose and left the room. She was so hurt 
 when he spoke to her thus. It was a very common 
 occurrence now, yet she could not accustom herself 
 to it, and the tears always came, battle against them 
 as she would. 
 
 It takes time for unkindness to pierce the an- 
 guished heart. The way is through grief, sorrow, 
 and disappointment. Kind words must have died 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 Ill 
 
 and love taken its flight before it can reach the 
 soul. 
 
 Some weeks after Leila’s chat with Louie Paran 
 she heard that the girl had run away, and all efforts 
 to trace her had utterly failed. After her ‘ turn ’ in 
 the ring at an evening performance she was never 
 seen again. 
 
 Only Whanks knew that Madame Meurice had 
 driven past the circus, muffled up most carefully so 
 that no one could recognise her. He alone had 
 seen a sign which had been agreed upon, and in 
 a moment Louie was in the cab and off ; and the 
 next day, when all the circus was in confusion over 
 the loss of Louie Paran the great ‘ trick rider,’ 
 Whanks could have told them that she was on 
 board a steamer bound for the East. 
 
 But he held his tongue, and only murmured to 
 himself, ' If I had my aunt’s money I would have 
 gone too, be hanged if I would not’ 
 
 Whanks had seen the girl go— for Leila had 
 made the way easy. She did not forget her promise. 
 The white slave had escaped the tyrant’s cruel hand, 
 and Leila was happier for the risk she had run in 
 taking part in the girl’s abduction. 
 
 But she kept her own counsel. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 Between Leila and her brother there was — space, 
 that great undefined yet limitable division which 
 separates one half of a wondering world from the 
 other. 
 
II2 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 There was the sea, girding the earth like heaven, 
 the same for ever, stamped with the great impress 
 of the Unchangeable. 
 
 There were only memories left for either of them. 
 Like a dream came back the sound of a beloved 
 voice, the grasp of a familiar hand, and the unity 
 of profound love, the dearest thing which wealth can 
 never buy. 
 
 Away from the glare and heat of the cities, away 
 from the civilised world, away from home and 
 friends and all that the young hold dear, was Tom 
 Gurney. Yet he was very happy, and grateful to 
 those who had given him the opportunity of start- 
 ing in life in a new country. 
 
 The splendid climate had given him renewed 
 health and spirits, which influenced his physical 
 nature and the tendencies of his mind, rendering 
 him less hopeless, and making him forget much 
 of his shame. 
 
 The roadside store which had been Tom's home 
 for the last two years belonged to his friend's father, 
 Mr Webb, and was known as Malan store. It was 
 situated near the Vaal River, which forms the 
 boundary between the Orange Free State and the 
 South African Republic. 
 
 The store itself was a commodious one-storied 
 building. In appearance it was of somewhat rude 
 make ; sand and sun-dried bricks being the only 
 commodities at hand. It was used for articles of 
 sale alone, and the accommodation was hardly suffi- 
 cient for the demand made upon it. Three hundred 
 yards apart from the store was the house occupied 
 by Mr Bates, the manager, two clerks, and Tom 
 Gurney. Both buildings stood by the side of the 
 track which served as a ‘ waggon road ' across the 
 undulating veldt, over which travellers often had 
 very disagreeable experiences. 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 113 
 
 Tom had frequently known an ox-waggon to 
 arrive at the store the occupants of which could 
 tell him of blinding storms of dust swirling and 
 sweeping all that lay before them, of fearful 
 paroxysms in the storm, the fury of the wind, 
 the terrible darkness, the dazzling flashes of lurid 
 lightning followed by deafening peals of thunder. 
 But as suddenly as the storm arose came the lull, 
 and the sun would shine over the veldt with renewed 
 lustre and beauty. 
 
 From the store little could be seen but short 
 stunted grass, and there were no trees to spread 
 forth great arms of bushy leaves to give a grateful 
 shade from the scorching heat of the midday sun — 
 bare, intolerably hot, the air often heavy with dust, 
 it tried the patience of the four Englishmen at times 
 beyond endurance. 
 
 When no clouds of dust were rising from the ox- 
 waggons there could be seen in the far distance 
 a collective circle of huts — Kaffir kraals — ^just dis- 
 tinguishable against the clear blue sky, where the 
 stalwart forms of the Zulus reposed during the heat 
 of the day. 
 
 Tom would sigh sometimes when he gazed upon 
 the little piece of enclosed land which surrounded 
 the store and dwelling-house, where nothing grew 
 but a field of mealies and a few common vegetables, 
 and he would long for just one sight of an English 
 garden, with its roses and budding carnations, its 
 freshness and its summer beauty. 
 
 But with the thoughts of the flowers came the 
 remembrance of his mother, and his sigh would 
 turn to a happy smile of contentment because no 
 shame arose from the mealie field or from the 
 great tract of land which lay beyond. 
 
 Tom’s life was a busy one despite the lack of 
 genial companionship and the fact that the nearest 
 
 H 
 
1 14 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 neighbours were four weary miles away and all 
 the farms just as far apart. 
 
 The Boers were continually riding their pack- 
 horses up to the store, or driving in their ox- 
 waggons, for the purpose of bartering for goods 
 and drink. They would bring skins or wool, and 
 sometimes garden stuff, tied up in rags of such 
 disgusting appearance that they were speedily 
 dispensed with. When Tom had been at the 
 store only a few weeks, he refused on several 
 occasions to receive these exchanges ; and then 
 Mr Bates explained to him the nature of the 
 people with whom they had to deal. 
 
 ‘You must always take something in exchange,’ 
 he told Tom kindly. ‘ It does not matter whether 
 it is worthless to us or not. The Boers are our 
 customers. They are terribly cute, and prefer to 
 barter rather than pay money, in the hope of 
 getting the best of the bargain. If once you 
 refuse to take their offer all the farmers round 
 would hear of it, and we should get a bad name 
 and lose custom. So, when you see a Boer coming 
 to the store, you must use your eyes and your tact 
 or he will impose on your ignorance and we may 
 be considerable losers.’ 
 
 Tom did not forget this friendly warning, and 
 for the future he kept very strict guard over all 
 the transactions of the Boers. 
 
 But there was another class of customers who 
 were very welcome to all at the store, and those 
 were the travellers who were ‘ on the road ’ from 
 Durban to Pretoria. These people often ‘ out- 
 spanned ’ for a few hours, and then was the 
 opportunity of learning news of the world and 
 the old country. It was a source of great delight 
 to Tom to watch for the little dim shadow, which 
 in the far distance looked like a tiny cloud, gather- 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 II5 
 
 ing larger and still more large as it came towards 
 him. He knew it was the herald of the approach 
 of travellers, and that the mass was but the dust, 
 the result of the team of oxen drawing the great 
 heavy lumbering waggon towards the store. Their 
 progress was always slow, and Tom would watch 
 with interest the slow pace of the oxen coming 
 across the veldt, with their freight of human beings 
 and cases of goods and furniture. But sometimes, 
 as the waggon came nearer, much to Tom’s chagrin, 
 it was found to be nothing more than the waggon 
 of the travelling ‘ smouse,’ making for the store to 
 buy clothes and other things suitable for emigrants 
 coming into the country that he might have run 
 short of. With these articles the smouse traded, 
 visiting the distant farms and homesteads, but he 
 rarely had much news to convey to the store, 
 and he, like the riders of transport, was never very 
 welcome. 
 
 Through the kindness of Mr Bates, Tom Gurney 
 had seen a great deal of the vast country around 
 him. He had been allowed to spend a short holi- 
 day at Barkly West, the small colonial town on the 
 bank of the Vaal River. This gave him the oppor- 
 tunity of wandering in many picturesque spots by 
 the broad, winding stream, and enjoying the beauties 
 of the scene, which to him had all the pleasure of 
 novelty, besides being a relief after the dry, barren 
 surroundings of the store. On one occasion he had 
 been sent to Peniel on business for the manager, 
 and Tom was delighted to make acquaintance with 
 the first mining town. From there his work took 
 him to Warrenton, a low-lying district, but rich in 
 luxurious gardens, fields, and fruit, nourished as it 
 was by the irrigation of the cool waters of the Vaal 
 River. There was much to impress him, and on 
 his return to the store he wrote to his father, giving 
 
Il6 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 him a varied description of all he had seen, recount- 
 ing graphically the fort at Barkley West — or Klip- 
 drift as it was once called — and which had no other 
 significance than implying that the ' drift ’ or ford 
 situated close to the town, for the accommodation 
 of the huge ox-waggons to cross the Vaal, was very 
 stony when the waters were not too high to render 
 it dangerous. He described how he had stumbled 
 and slipped over the immense number of loose 
 stones which were lying about on all sides, telling 
 their silent tale of how eager, trembling hands had 
 turned them over when Barkly West had been the 
 site of the old diamond ‘ diggings.’ 
 
 Whenever he wrote these long letters home a 
 longing to have his father and sister with him 
 always arose in his mind. Yet he knew his father 
 would never settle down to the new life and his 
 sister become the wife of a colonist. So, after all, 
 they were best in the old country. But sometimes 
 he felt he would give much to meet one gentle 
 English girl, someone with whom he could ex- 
 change a few tender, refined words. But though 
 he loved to linger over the thought, he quickly 
 banished it. Was it likely that the barren veldt, 
 the heavy ox-waggon, could furnish him with such 
 a treasure ? 
 
 But there is a fate even in the desert land. 
 
 One hot afternoon, as there were no customers 
 in sight, the manager locked the door of the store, 
 and he and his clerks went forth to indulge in a 
 game of cricket. The ground was hot, dried, and 
 cracked, and it was some time before Tom could 
 arrange the wickets satisfactorily. At length the 
 game began. The spectators consisted of a little 
 band of Kaffirs and Swazi labourers from the store, 
 who sat at a safe distance, watching with silent, 
 scornful wonder the ‘ white man’s ’ eccentricities. 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 II7 
 
 So eager was the play that a cloud of dust gradu- 
 ally developing in the distance was unheeded, and 
 the tent waggon, drawn by fourteen slow-going 
 oxen, came towards them. 
 
 Suddenly Tom called to his companions, — 
 
 ‘Look out, old fellows, customers are on the way.’ 
 
 At this bats, balls, and wickets disappeared, and 
 they all turned to the store to be ready to supply 
 the necessities required by the advancing party. 
 
 When the waggon drew up it was seen to contain 
 a middle-aged man, George Herepath, a young girl, 
 a little younger than Tom, and three small boys. 
 
 A couple of Swazis were in charge of the oxen, 
 and all seemed very fatigued after their dusty and 
 heated journey. Mr Herepath alighted, and Tom, 
 who had lingered near the door of the store to 
 satisfy his curiosity as to who had arrived, was the 
 first to be addressed. 
 
 Tom saw with one rapid glance that the man 
 standing before him was a gentleman and an 
 Englishman, two virtues highly appreciated at the 
 store. Yet there was something strikingly sad about 
 the stranger’s face; it was so grave, so devoid of 
 happiness, that it gave Tom the impression that he 
 was either ill or disappointed with his prospects in 
 the new country, and a pity arose in his heart for 
 him even before he spoke. 
 
 The voice of the stranger was subdued and 
 almost weary in its monotone as he said, — 
 
 ‘ Good day, sir ; can you tell us where we can 
 out-span for the night? We must rest a few 
 hours, replenish our stock of provisions, and look 
 to the beasts. We have kept close to the waggon 
 road, and there have been several long reaches 
 without surface water. The cattle must be both 
 hungry and thirsty.’ 
 
 ‘ Certainly,’ replied Tom. ‘ Look here,’ he called 
 
ii8 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 to the two Swazis, ‘ you can draw the waggon near 
 to the enclosure by the house, and the oxen can 
 feed a little lower down. The grass is the best we 
 have about, and there is plenty of water.' 
 
 Before there was time for the stranger to utter 
 his thanks Mr Bates came out to the waggon. 
 
 ‘They are an English party/ said Tom, ‘and 
 they will out-span here for the night. I have 
 told the men where to take the oxen. Is that 
 right, sir ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Quite/ replied Mr Bates with satisfaction. ‘ And 
 so you have come from Durban I suppose ? ' he 
 said, turning to the stranger. 
 
 ‘Yes, we are on our way to Pretoria,' remarked 
 the man in a hopeless voice. ‘ Sometimes I wish 
 I had never brought the chicks so far ; but here we 
 are, so I suppose I may as well make up my mind 
 to put up with it.' 
 
 ‘ How many are there of you ? ' asked Mr Bates, 
 ignoring the man's discontented mood. 
 
 ‘ My daughter and three little boys/ said the 
 man sadly. ‘ Five of us altogether. There were six 
 when we started from England, but my wife died 
 on the voyage out, and we buried her at sea/ he 
 added in a tone of deep distress. 
 
 ‘ Well, suppose the Swazis take the waggon to 
 the out-span and you bring your little family in to 
 supper,' said Mr Bates kindly, really sorry for the 
 man's trouble in a lone land. 
 
 The offer was gladly accepted, and soon the 
 matter of introductions was over and the party 
 sat down to a very hospitable board. Mr Bates 
 and Mr Herepath kept up a lengthy conversa- 
 tion about the country in general, touching on the 
 administration and the different settlements and 
 the local irritation in some of the outlying dis- 
 tricts ; the three younger boys made merry with 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. II9 
 
 the clerks ; and Tom Hasketh — the name he had 
 always been known by in the country he had 
 adopted as his home — was left to entertain Fanny 
 Herepath. 
 
 She was a finely developed girl, with dark eyes 
 and hair, and her whole appearance was one of the 
 greatest intelligence. Honesty of purpose, an out- 
 spoken manner, a determination to make the best 
 of the journey at once won Tom’s admiration, and 
 his sympathy was aroused when she told him with 
 faltering voice of the death of her mother. 
 
 ‘ I shall have father and the boys to see after 
 now. It’s a good thing I’m strong, for with health 
 I can be the right hand and do for them as mother 
 would have wished.’ 
 
 ‘ It will be a dreadful toil for you, in a new country 
 too. I am awfully sorry for you.’ 
 
 ‘ I hope I have a brave heart,’ she replied stoutly. 
 ‘ It is no use to be thinking of the work before me. 
 It is best to meet it as it comes.’ 
 
 ‘You are brave,’ said Tom with genuine admira- 
 tion, ‘ and I am sure your father and brothers will 
 find you a treasure.’ 
 
 ‘ I must help them all I can. The children must 
 not miss her care,’ she added softly. ‘ And as to 
 father, I can make him comfortable and get a home 
 around him. Happy he will never be now mother 
 is dead. Poor father, he has lost his money and 
 his wife all in a year. This time twelvemonths 
 death and ruin seemed very far away. It does 
 seem years since then.’ 
 
 Something like tears glistened in her big brown 
 eyes, and Tom offered all the consolation he could. 
 
 ‘ Brighter days are in store for you at Pretoria,’ 
 he said cheerfully. ‘Your father will grow strong 
 and rich, the boys will be giants in their strength 
 and health, and you will marry a rich colonist.’ 
 
120 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 'Marry, and leave the children!^ she repeated 
 with contempt, as if the suggestion had been almost 
 an insult when her duties lay in the little family 
 circle. 'Never; I shall never leave them — never,’ 
 she added with emphasis. 
 
 'But they will not be children always,’ said Tom 
 apologetically. ' Of course I meant when they were 
 big boys.’ 
 
 ' That will be a long time. Let me see, Percy is 
 only ten, and Willie eight, and Georgy seven. They 
 are all babies,’ she added sadly, ' and — motherless.’ 
 Suddenly, as if wishing to break the line of con- 
 versation and change the subject to one more 
 pleasant, she exclaimed, — 
 
 'The journey here was most enjoyable. If 
 novelty could be said to give pleasure, we had 
 several adventures which interested me. Do you 
 care to hear, or does it bore you ? I daresay my 
 experiences will be only the old stories over again.’ 
 
 ' I shall be a most delighted listener,’ replied 
 Tom. 'Any news is appreciated I can tell you. 
 In this region, charming as it is, the isolation from 
 the outer world is trying at times and makes us 
 greedy for incident of any kind. Please go on.’ 
 
 She smiled and continued, — 
 
 ' Coming across the veldt our trek of oxen had 
 a "scrick ” and bolted. We were afraid we should 
 be upset, but our Swazi driver handled them splen- 
 didly. They ran a long distance. The boys enjoyed 
 it, but I knew the danger.’ 
 
 ' What scared them ? ’ asked Tom. 
 
 ' The smell of the lion skin at the back of the 
 waggon ; it is strange that oxen should be so afraid 
 of even the smell of a lion,’ said Fanny Herepath 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 ' It is,’ replied Tom ; ' but they must possess some 
 wonderful instinct, for it is a fact that calves born 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 I2I 
 
 in the colony and grown up here, and who have 
 never seen a lion, will bolt at the smell of the skin.' 
 
 ‘ When they stopped they were very restless, 
 and our “ voorlooper " had to lead the two 
 front oxen even when there were no dangerous 
 places for him to guide them over ; but he advised 
 us to out-span for a time. So we did, or we should 
 have arrived here a day earlier. After that we 
 came along splendidly, until we came across a 
 waggon which had broken down on the road, and 
 we waited to help the Boer and his vrouw and 
 children out of their difficulties.' 
 
 ' Did you come across any of the Zulus asking for 
 tobacco, or what they call ? ' 
 
 ‘ Not any,' said Fanny ; ‘ are they fond of it ? ' 
 
 ‘ Very. Sometimes the whole of a Zulu kraal will 
 surround a waggon and demand with the greatest 
 persistence ^wz\ and nothing will satisfy them until 
 their demands are attended to ; and it is a funny 
 sight to watch both men and women sitting 
 smoking with their bone pipes, made out of the leg 
 bone of blesbok. It's a pity you did not come across 
 them.’ 
 
 'What are blesbok?' asked Fanny. ‘You see, 
 she continued, ‘ I know very little of the country at 
 present, and the name is quite unfamiliar to me.' 
 
 ‘ Blesbok, springbok, koodoo, and elands are 
 large game, and fine sport for those who have time 
 to go out gun in hand. A Kaffir brought me a 
 slice once, and showed me how to prepare it — 
 the flavour was delicious.’ 
 
 ‘ Have you many flowers here ? ’ asked Fanny 
 Herepath ; ‘ it all looks so bare, so dry and dusty.' 
 
 ‘ Well, you see, you are rather too late, and not 
 early enough for what few there are. The stony 
 roads between the low hills are covered by a plant 
 called the Vaal bush ; the perfume is sweet, the 
 
122 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 leaves are often boiled and used as tea, and very 
 pleasant in flavour ; and I have seen lilies quite 
 equal to any met with in English greenhouses 
 growing among the rocks in the kloofs near to the 
 springs. But, of course, to my mind there can be 
 no flowers so beautiful as those which grow in the 
 dear old country.’ 
 
 Somehow, flowers always reminded Tom of his 
 home. The blooms on the veldt spoke silently of 
 the sweet-scented roses in the cottage homes of 
 England. 
 
 * Ah ! I must not think of England,’ said the 
 girl, rising from the table ; ‘ where the thoughts 
 are the wish will be sure to follow, and I must 
 be content where I am for the sake of the others.’ 
 
 Tom knew then that the girlish heart was very 
 sore, that the craving for home was very keen, 
 and what an effort it was to speak so bravely for 
 the sake of those she held so dear. 
 
 Surely no soldier went to the battlefield with 
 more heart, more courage to fight for Queen and 
 Country. 
 
 Mr Bates and Mr Herepath had finished their 
 lengthy chat, and the clerks had done their best 
 to amuse the little boys. Altogether the evening 
 had been very happily spent. Tom was more 
 struck with his charming companion than he 
 would like to have owned. 
 
 And they all retired to their out-span more 
 cheerful for the hospitality offered them and the 
 genial companionship. 
 
 Fanny Herepath and her little brothers retired 
 to rest in the waggon, upon a thick mattress and 
 plenty of rugs, but her father occupied a tent 
 attached to the waggon, while the Swazi drivers 
 made themselves comfortable beneath it. 
 
 But Tom did not repose so peacefully. His 
 
IN THE TRANSVAAL. 
 
 123 
 
 thoughts were upon Fanny Herepath, and when 
 he did fall asleep it was but to dream of her 
 trouble and her bravery, and to wish she was not 
 going to Pretoria, so far away. 
 
 When the morning at last dawned, Tom and 
 Fanny Herepath met again. This time they stood 
 outside the store, Tom helping the native labourers 
 to put tea, coffee, sugar, mealies, and flour into the 
 waggon, whilst Mr Herepath was hearing from Mr 
 Bates a description of the road, and where water was 
 to be met with between the store and Pretoria. 
 
 After the necessaries were loaded, Tom stayed 
 by Fanny’s side, watching a group of Zulu girls, 
 who had brought maize and vegetables to the 
 store to exchange for some beads and brass wire, 
 which they used as ornaments. 
 
 ‘They are very handsome girls/ said Fanny 
 with admiration, 
 
 ‘Yes, some of the Kaffir tribes are very hand- 
 some,’ said Tom. ‘They are so tall, so erect. I 
 never saw a Kaffir woman stoop.’ 
 
 ‘ How is that ? ’ asked Fanny with curiosity. 
 
 . ‘ The constant habit of carrying heavy Kaffir pots 
 of water on their heads. This, of course, can only 
 be done by walking very upright,’ replied Tom. 
 
 ‘Are you ready, Fanny, my girl?’ broke in her 
 father. ‘ We shall start directly.’ 
 
 ‘ Dear me ! I nearly forgot that I want some 
 needles,’ replied the girl. ‘You have some here, 
 of course ? ’ 
 
 She went into the store with Tom. He was a 
 minute or so before he returned to her, and when 
 he did so he carried a small box in his hand. 
 
 ‘ Will you accept this. Miss Herepath, as a little 
 remembrance of our pleasant meeting ? It contains 
 needles, pins, and cotton sufficient for six months. 
 It will give me much pleasure if you will take it.’ 
 
124 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ' Thank you, Mr Hasketh,’ added the girl grate- 
 fully, whilst her flushed face betrayed how great 
 was her pleasure at the gift. ‘ It is my first present 
 in the new country. I wonder who will give me 
 the next ? * 
 
 ' Perhaps I may/ said Tom. ‘ I fancy we shall 
 meet again some day. I hope so, indeed I do.' 
 
 She looked up, somewhat astonished at his 
 earnest tone. 
 
 Without thinking, she answered, — 
 
 ' I hope so too. It would be delightful.' 
 
 All the odds and ends were in the waggon, the 
 Swazi drivers had taken their places on the waggon 
 box, the voorlooper was standing by the trek of 
 oxen, all was ready for the start. 
 
 ' Good-bye,' said Fanny kindly to Tom, as he 
 placed her in the waggon, 'and thank you very much.' 
 
 ' Good-bye,' replied Tom quietly, as he squeezed 
 her hand in his. ' We shall meet again. Miss 
 Herepath, some day. Remember me till then.' 
 
 ' I will,' she said, as the waggon moved off. 
 ' Good-bye.' 
 
 Tom stood watching it growing less and less 
 across the veldt. He saw the distant hills, 
 one blaze of golden light, the clear atmosphere 
 casting lovely and varied reflection around him. 
 Above was the bright, glowing sky, a brilliant 
 landscape almost too grand to be appreciated by 
 mankind. 
 
 But the waggon had gone. It was hidden alto- 
 gether behind a rise in the land, and as Tom turned 
 towards the store it seemed as if some of the tints 
 in the rosy sky had faded and some of the loveli- 
 ness of the morning had departed. 
 
 They would meet again some day. He was sure 
 of that. 
 
 And so was she. 
 
‘ MOTHER ! LEILA ! 
 
 125 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ‘MOTHER !’ — ‘LEILA!’ 
 
 Five years had passed, and to Leila they had been 
 very weary years. Never very strong in health, the 
 life had told upon her delicate constitution. Per- 
 forming as she was obliged, at the circus with 
 Castelli every day, sometimes twice, and the con- 
 stant moving from place to place, either on the 
 Continent or in England, fatigued her dreadfully. 
 However, worn out and tired, she must move on 
 when her duties called her. There had been no 
 home life, nothing but exchanging one set of apart- 
 ments for another, one town for the next. Added 
 to this she had the heavy responsibilities of mother- 
 hood. Two children, a little fair girl of four and 
 a delicate boy of three years, claimed her love and 
 her care. To them Leila was devoted. It was for 
 their sakes that she struggled so bravely against 
 the hardships of her life. It was for them that she 
 faced her husband’s anger and toiled as the slave 
 at the galley. 
 
 Had it not been for the kindness of some of the 
 wives of the riders, and other artistes, Leila would 
 have had a much harder time of it than she had, for 
 some of them were always willing to ‘ mind ’ the 
 children whilst the mother was at her rehearsals, 
 and in the evening they would offer to let one of 
 their children go up and sit with them until they 
 fell asleep. These acts of genuine kindness touched 
 Leila to the heart, and bound her with a debt of 
 gratitude and love to those so far beneath her. 
 
 It had been a terrible time for Leila when she 
 had awakened to the true character of her much 
 loved husband, when she found how hard and 
 
126 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 cruel he was. At first the dawning of the truth 
 stupefied her, she could not grasp the situation. 
 But the consciousness came all too soon, and she 
 knew then the awfulness of her position. 
 
 Discarded by her father, and as she thought by 
 her brother also, for she had not heard from Tom 
 since her marriage, the wife of a man who had 
 forgotten the love he had promised her when he 
 first sought and won her girlish heart — was it any 
 wonder that she looked back on the past, some- 
 times revelling in the visions which memory raised 
 in moments when she was free from care ? These 
 feelings of the bygone days were the only joy, the 
 only light piercing through the gloom, and she 
 welcomed them with an unhealthy yearning. 
 
 Poor Telia, was it not a shame that a husband’s 
 harshness, a husband’s cruelty should dispel the 
 promised love and joy, and that grief and fear 
 should break the dream once so fraught with bliss ? 
 
 But alas, it was so ! 
 
 Five years of dark shadows had not tended to im- 
 prove Leila’s character. A great deal of the gentle- 
 ness and sweetness of disposition was changed. 
 She had grown cold, unbending, doing her duty, 
 and suffering in silence, asking neither for praise 
 nor sympathy. It was only when Castelli was dis- 
 pleased with her that any of the old and more 
 kindly nature showed itself His power over her 
 was as strong as in the earlier days. Sometimes 
 she would plead with him not to speak such cruel 
 words, to kiss her just once. 
 
 But he refused the transient pleasure that love 
 demanded, and Leila would turn away and try to 
 crush the pain and still her throbbing heart. 
 
 Once when she was rehearsing, too weary and 
 depressed to take much interest in her work, a 
 sharp cut from his whip and a fearful oath from 
 
‘ MOTHER ! ’ — ' LEILA ! ’ 
 
 127 
 
 his lips caused her to faint from actual physical 
 pain and fear. It was the first time he had ever 
 struck her, and like a crushed flower she bent her 
 head and dared not look up for very shame. 
 
 She would have left him after that, but the 
 motherhood within her bade her stay. Must she 
 not guard the little ones, and shield them, and be 
 the bright star to shine over them through all the 
 miseries of their roving life ? to be near to comfort 
 them, to dry the tears from the baby faces, to win 
 back the smiles to rosy lips? Yes, that was her 
 duty. 
 
 Fear, shame, and despair must be endured for 
 their sweet sakes — the tender, the young, from 
 whose lips the divine word ‘mother' gave Leila 
 such intense happiness. For them she would have 
 sacrificed her life if the need arose, and yet their 
 father was the man from whom she had received 
 the greatest insults. 
 
 But she was their mother. 
 
 The circus had been in Paris some time, and 
 Castelli and Leila had done much by their perform- 
 ances to draw large audiences to the cirque in 
 the Champs Elysees, and the weeks had passed 
 more quietly than usual. Her apartments off the 
 Faubourg St Honore were comfortable, and if 
 the street was small at least it was quiet, and this 
 Leila enjoyed after the wear and tear of constant 
 travelling. 
 
 The Lenten gloom was over, and Eastertide, with 
 its joys and pleasure, had begun. The streets were 
 so full that it was hard to get along ; the cafes 
 were crammed with men, women, and children ; 
 some of the visitants were sitting sipping their 
 coffee and cognac at the small round marble tables 
 outside and enjoying the passing and repassing of 
 the mighty throng. 
 
128 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 There was life and pleasure everywhere. 
 
 Leila, carrying her baby boy and guiding 
 Vanda as best she could, hurried through the 
 crowded streets. She looked so pale and weary 
 that the people at the tables gave her glances of 
 sympathy as she passed, and murmured words of 
 pity, and ceased their chattering to watch her on 
 her way. 
 
 ‘ Keep close to me, Vanda, darling, or mother will 
 lose you.’ 
 
 ‘ How far is it now, mother ? ’ 
 
 ' Not far, darling.’ 
 
 Leila was getting exhausted, the weight of her 
 boy was considerable ; but she hurried on, looking 
 neither to the right nor left, and never paused until 
 she reached the ‘ Bodega ’ in the Rue Rivoli. She 
 was about to enter, when a short, dark man of 
 about thirty years of age stepped up to her. 
 
 ' You are here first, then, Ringens,’ said Leila 
 calling him by the name he adopted for the ring. 
 Everybody called the clown Ringens, and so the 
 custom had grown until his real name was nearly lost. 
 
 'Your husband told me you would be here at 
 five, it is now nearly half-past’ 
 
 ' The boy was so heavy,’ panted Leila, ' and the 
 crowd so great, I had difficulty in getting Vanda 
 along,’ 
 
 ' Let me take the child,’ said the man kindly. 
 ' He’s much too heavy for you. You must have 
 some cognac before we start’ 
 
 Leila was exhausted by her efforts, and she 
 drank the brandy eagerly. How gladly would she 
 have rested at home that one evening of freedom. 
 She had ridden twice that afternoon, and during 
 the fete week the evening performance was more 
 varied, and Leila for once was free. 
 
 She had decided to take her children for a treat 
 
‘ MOTHER ! ' — ‘ LEILA ! ’ 
 
 129 
 
 to the fete to give them a holiday ; but almost at 
 the last moment her husband had forbidden her to 
 go unaccompanied. If she could find one of the 
 artistes to go with her, well and good, if not, she 
 must remain with the children at home. 
 
 By mere chance she learned that Ringens was 
 not to appear in the evening, and she begged him 
 to assist her in carrying out her plan. 
 
 If her husband were willing, Ringens was, and so 
 the children spent their holiday at the fete, 
 
 Dick Wynscote, known in the ring as Ringens, 
 was much respected by his fellow-artistes and those 
 connected with the different circuses he visited. 
 His character was beyond suspicion. He never 
 thought it necessary to use profane oaths, or in 
 any way to disgrace his name as husband and 
 father. He had married a country lassie whom he 
 had loved since boyish days ; and much as he liked 
 to have her with him, he never allowed her to 
 undergo the fatigues of a Continental tour. 
 
 ‘ My wife and the babies are best in London,' he 
 would say when inquiries were made about Mrs 
 Wynscote. 
 
 And Leila wished sometimes that Castelli would 
 be as thoughful for her, but then she earned good 
 salaries, and Mrs Wynscote had nothing to do but 
 care for her home and her children. 
 
 At one great circus Dick Wynscote had been 
 christened in derision ‘ Saint Ringens,’ because on 
 Sunday morning he regularly attended the service 
 at the cathedral. ‘ It is better to be a saint than a 
 sinner,' he would reply, ‘ and I intend to serve my 
 God as well as I serve my master.' 
 
 Upon this point he was always firm, and Leila 
 would sometimes gain much comfort when he spoke 
 to her of a higher life where the toil and misery 
 would end for ever. Indeed he had been her one 
 
 I 
 
130 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 friend during the long Continental tour, and Cas- 
 telli had made no objection to their chats and 
 strolls ; and this was a great pleasure to Leila. 
 
 So it was, as it will be for ever, the power of 
 good asserted itself, and was felt even by those 
 whose ways are ill and whose deeds are dark. 
 
 Relieved of the child, she managed to get along 
 better, and they were soon in the great public 
 gardens. They wandered about for some time 
 showing the children all likely to interest them, 
 and then Ringens suggested they should take 
 some seats within a cafe chantant and listen to the 
 concert about to begin. A magnificent band had 
 already commenced a lively waltz, the gardens 
 were one blaze of lamps and light, the people were 
 preparing with a graceful yet matter of course air 
 for the coming cheap amusement. Leila was glad 
 enough to rest. 
 
 The first artiste to appear was quite a young girl, 
 who in a bespangled dress flaunted her coarse, bold 
 manners to the immense delight of the audience. 
 With apparent relish she sang a song which caused 
 Leila to flush deeply. She was ashamed of her sex, 
 but the people applauded and would have an encore, 
 and the girl grew more forward with her successful 
 reception, more vulgar, more loose in her songs. At 
 last she left the stage with a knowing wink and a 
 nod, much to everyone’s amusement, but Leila felt 
 nothing but disgust and annoyance. 
 
 Her natural refinement rebelled against anything 
 which tended to pander to low tastes, and she had 
 frequently desisted from visiting many of the cafe 
 chantants in the towns in which they had been 
 resident, because the amusements provided had 
 been distasteful to her. 
 
 She was true to her instincts through all. 
 
 Vanda began to fidget, and Leila said gently, — 
 
‘ MOTHER ! ' — ‘ LEILA ! ’ 
 
 I3I 
 
 ' Sit still, dear. What is the matter? ' 
 
 ‘I am so tired, mother,' said Vanda wearily. 
 
 ‘ Can't we go home ? ' 
 
 ‘ Yes, darling, soon.' And then she leant forward 
 to speak to Ringens, who sat in a chair before her 
 nursing Adrian, who had fallen asleep. ‘ I think 
 I must go soon,' she said in a tone of half apology, 
 ^ the children are so tired.' 
 
 ‘ Do you mind hearing one more song, and then 
 we will go ? Colons is going to sing. I heard her 
 six years ago in Brussels at the Casino. She was 
 a fine woman, really beautiful, with a good voice.' 
 
 ‘ Colons, what a funny name,' said Leila some- 
 what interested. 
 
 ‘ Yes, but it means colouring, a tint on a picture, 
 and it was very applicable to her, her face was so 
 brilliant and her complexion rich and dark. She 
 is English, too, and must be getting on now. I 
 thought she had left the Casino business long ago.' 
 
 ‘ Has she any children ? ' inquired Leila. 
 
 ‘ I really do not know. I am afraid there has 
 been some scandal attached to her name. I heard 
 so, but do not let that bias you against her, because 
 it may not be true.' 
 
 Leila had no time to respond, for the curtain went 
 up and a tall, elegant woman stepped to the front 
 of the stage. She was dressed in a white silk 
 robe which had seen its best days. The lace and 
 the ribbons had been evidently added, but with 
 all she was beautiful. The contour of her limbs 
 could be seen as the clinging silk fell in scanty 
 folds. Her face was thin, but the glow of colour 
 was there in the shape of two brilliant patches on 
 either cheek. So strange, so weird did she look in 
 the blaze of the footlights that most of the audience 
 instantly fixed their eyes upon her in comparative 
 silence, wondering whether her quick, hurried 
 
132 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 breathing was nervousness or illness. Thinking 
 to encourage her, they stamped with their feet and 
 clapped their hands lustily. 
 
 It was during this tumult that Leila, white as 
 death, rose from her seat and left the cafe hur- 
 riedly. Ringens, who had seen her leave, followed 
 her hastily. When they had reached the quiet gar- 
 dens he asked her if she were ill. 
 
 ‘ No, not ilV she gasped faintly, ‘but I have had 
 a great shock. ‘ Coloris is ’ — she paused — ‘ is my 
 mother ! ’ 
 
 ‘Your mother, Madame Castelli !' replied Dick 
 Wynscote in amazement, ‘ it cannot be.’ 
 
 ‘ It is — it is she.’ She trembled so violently that 
 he feared she would fall to the ground. 
 
 ‘ Shall I fetch someone to you ? Shall . I go for 
 your husband ? ’ said Ringeus, now deeply con- 
 cerned. 
 
 ‘ My husband ! ’ The word seemed to make her 
 realise the situation at once, and in a distressed 
 tone she cried : ‘ Leave me alone for one minute, I 
 shall soon be all right ; but don’t send for Emilio 
 whatever you do ; don’t tell him I have seen her, 
 will you ? ’ she asked pleadingly. 
 
 ‘ Certainly not, if you don’t wish it,’ replied 
 Ringens, wondering what all the mystery meant. 
 
 She recovered soon, however, and said quickly, — 
 
 ‘ Give me Adrian. Get me a carriage ; I will go 
 back to my rooms. And you, I want you to go at 
 once and find out my mother’s position and what 
 she needs before I see her. Break it to her gently, 
 but tell her I will come and see her to-morrow. 
 She is dying, I am sure of that !’ exclaimed Leila 
 with great excitement. ‘ Please don’t delay or I 
 may lose her again for ever.’ 
 
 Ringens placed her in a cab, and after seeing 
 that she and her children were comfortable, he 
 
‘ MOTHER ! ’ — ' LEILA ! ’ 133 
 
 hurried back to the cafe chantant^ but the wearied 
 singer was gone. After some difficulty he found 
 her address, and thither he proceeded at once. 
 
 In a small and frowsy room on the top floor of 
 an old, wretched house on the other side of the 
 river, he saw the broken-down woman. She was 
 sitting in a faded dressing-gown when he entered, 
 leaning with her head back on a heap of soiled 
 cushions. 
 
 He explained his business, and gave her Leila’s 
 message. She listened attentively, not breaking the 
 silence once. There was only the deepening of the 
 crimson flush to show how strongly she was battling 
 with her feelings. 
 
 She heard that her daughter was the wife of 
 Emilio Castelli, that Leila was the mother of two 
 little children, and that she wished to come to see 
 her on the morrow. 
 
 Then it was that some of the vigour of olden days 
 came back, and she paced the room with hurried 
 steps. Suddenly she exclaimed, — 
 
 'You’ve come here to tell me of my daughter. 
 You tell me she is married to a man who belongs 
 to a circus. They let her come to that, did they ? 
 Anything was good enough for the child of the 
 erring mother, the runaway wife. Perhaps you do 
 not know the story, do you ? ’ she asked wildly. 
 
 ' Certainly not,’ replied Ringens. ' I never knew 
 until to-night that Madame Castelli had a mother.’ 
 
 ' Mother, mother,’ she repeated, ' can I call myself 
 a mother ? /who left her years ago, / who brought 
 shame on her name and ruin to her home. I’m not 
 fit to see her, not fit to stand in the same room or 
 breathe the same air that she does. What greater 
 curse can rest upon me than that ? And yet,’ and 
 her voice became more gentle, ' I yearn to tell her 
 that I repent of all my sin, that I am contrite, and 
 
^34 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 implore her forgiveness. Oh, if but for one short 
 hour I could feel happy, if I could clasp my children 
 in my arms, if I could ' — her voice fell — ‘ if I could 
 hear my husband say ‘‘ I forgive you.” If I could 
 feel his lips touch mine I should die happy; but he 
 would hurl curses at me who wrought his ruin, and 
 his fury would fall upon me now for the awful 
 past. I am deserted, despised, corrupted, and 
 lost.’ She grew more excited as she continued. 
 
 ‘ Would it not have been kinder to have plunged 
 myself into the sea ? The record of my life would 
 have gone then, and my child could not have 
 seen me as I am — degraded and shunned by all. 
 But let her come if she will, let her see my doom, 
 let her hear me curse my destroyer before I die. She 
 shall see how he left me to exist, without money, 
 without friends, like a dog in the street ; how he 
 spurned me as an evil thing, and hurled me to de- 
 struction. Curses, curses on Herbert Clifford ! ’ 
 
 She sank down exhausted, and then Dick Wyns- 
 cote saw how dreadfully ill she really was. He 
 thought it best to ignore her terrible story, and 
 inquired if she needed anything to ease her pant- 
 ing, laboured breath. 
 
 ‘ Want anything ? ’ she repeated. ‘ Do you know 
 I spent my last franc yesterday? To-day I have 
 only eaten from that loaf,’ pointing to a small 
 piece on a plate, ' and that is all I have had. 
 I have been long without an engagement. I can- 
 not earn much now. My voice has no strength 
 and my heart is broken — and I am dying, I know 
 it,’ she added sorrowfully. 
 
 Dick Wynscote took a handful of francs from his 
 pocket and laid them on the table. 
 
 ‘ I am sure your daughter would like you to send 
 for what you need. Please do so, and to-morrow, 
 please God, you shall see her.’ 
 
‘ MOTHER ! ’ — ‘ LEILA ! ’ 
 
 135 
 
 He rose to go. There was nothing he could say 
 to the poor half-frenzied mother. He was horri- 
 fied at all he had heard, and had no desire to 
 prolong the interview. 
 
 He put out his hand and grasped hers kindly, 
 and bid her good-night. 
 
 He went home and wondered how men could 
 ruin homes, and bring those they tempted to sin 
 to such degradation and misery. 
 
 He forgot it was vice, not love. 
 
 The next day Ringens related to Leila his ex- 
 perience of the night before, and he urged her to 
 tell her husband and get his consent to remove the 
 unhappy woman to more congenial surroundings ; 
 but to this Leila was strongly opposed. She would 
 do all she could for her mother, and supply her 
 with money, but Emilio should be none the wiser ; 
 for had he not thrust the mother’s sin at the 
 daughter and taunted her with the shame? But 
 she could not tell that to Ringens, so she ignored 
 his advice. 
 
 ' She is so hopeless, so desponding, she will need 
 all your care and kindness,’ he said, just before she 
 started on her sad errand. 
 
 ‘ She shall have it,’ replied Leila gravely. 
 
 ‘ Mother ! ’ — ‘ Leila ! ’ They had met in one fond 
 embrace. 'Leila, my Leila!’ What torturing retri- 
 bution, what wild remorse that name called forth. 
 
 ' Mother, dear mother.’ 
 
 The angels of mercy and forgiveness were hover- 
 ing around, therefore break not the hallowed spell. 
 
 Hush ! Hush ! 
 
136 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ‘xMY aunt’s money.’ 
 
 Death had come — sorrows and sickness were over 
 — the earthly pilgrimage finished, Whanks’ aunt 
 was dead at last. 
 
 But the letter telling him the news, and request- 
 ing his presence in York to wind up her affairs and 
 prove the will, did not reach him until she had been 
 buried some weeks. It had followed him about to 
 several Continental towns, but it was not until the 
 circus had anchored for a time in Liverpool that 
 the important missive caught him up. 
 
 At last, after much patient waiting, he had come 
 in to his property, and in future he would be the 
 master of his own actions. 
 
 He read and re-read the letter from the solici- 
 tors, as if afraid there was some mistake. Then he 
 turned the enclosed cheque for ten pounds over 
 and over, as if the more readily to understand its 
 value. It had been sent him to meet his immediate 
 expenses and to defray his journey to York. 
 
 He decided that he must ask Castelli’s permis- 
 sion to go at once, then he would write to the 
 solicitors and tell them he would arrive in York 
 the next day. 
 
 But, unluckily for Whanks, before he could carry 
 out these practical arrangements, his craving to 
 have ‘ a drink to his luck ’ overcame his discretion, 
 and after asking a few of his ‘ chums ’ to join him, 
 he retired to the ‘ Three Arms ’ public-house, where 
 several hours were passed in discussing his pro- 
 spects and good fortune, while his glass had been 
 refilled many times. 
 
 At last, drunk and excited, he presented himself 
 before his master at the circus. 
 
‘MY aunt’s money.’ 
 
 137 
 
 Castelli, who had no idea of his groom’s good 
 luck, lost his temper, so the inebriated servant 
 and the angry master engaged in a quarrel which 
 did credit to neither of them. 
 
 Oath after oath fell from Castelli’s lips as 
 Whanks, contrary to custom, answered him with 
 equal warmth, and when he refused to leave his 
 presence before he had told him ‘what he thought 
 of him’ Castelli’s rage knew no bounds, and he 
 struck him a heavy blow. This maddened Whanks, 
 who blurted out in a thick voice some home truths 
 respecting his treatment of Leila. ‘ Everyone shall 
 know you’ve broken her heart,’ he cried out pas- 
 sionately. ‘ But I’ve got my aunt’s money now, 
 and — ’ But further conversation was arrested, for 
 Castelli took Whanks by the collar of his coat, and 
 after shaking him vigorously and telling him never 
 to show his face again at the circus, he hurled him 
 into the passage leading to the stables. 
 
 Leila was standing in her riding-habit, ready 
 for a rehearsal, when Whanks was thus summarily 
 dismissed. He almost fell against her as she was 
 leaving her dressing-room. 
 
 ‘What is the matter, Emilio?’ she exclaimed, look- 
 ing at the prostrate groom and her irate husband. 
 
 ‘ Cannot you see for yourself that the beast is 
 drunk ! Out he goes this time, once and for all.’ 
 ‘You need not be so rough even if he is in- 
 toxicated,’ replied Leila with spirit. ‘He is kind 
 and good to us when he is sober.’ 
 
 All the indifferent treatment she had received 
 from her husband had not crushed the loving 
 heart, it was just as tender for those in trouble ; 
 and to anyone in need of sympathy and protection 
 she always strove to give her support and assist- 
 ance. She would speak out, even at the risk of 
 incurring her husband’s terrible anger. She had 
 
138 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 suffered so acutely herself that the pain of seeing 
 others suffer was in itself renewed agony ; and her 
 sympathy for Whanks was intense. He had been 
 her friend on so many occasions, surely she must 
 plead for him now. 
 
 ‘ How dare you question my actions, Leila ? 
 said Castelli angrily. ‘ He’s dead drunk, and needs 
 a good thrashing to bring him round. Come to 
 your work, and leave me to manage for myself. 
 I don’t need your advice,’ he added severely. 
 
 Whanks in the meantime had picked himself 
 up from his lowly position, and leaning against 
 the wall for support, looked at Leila in a helpless, 
 stupid fashion, which angered Castelli more than 
 ever. 
 
 Ignoring his remark, Leila addressed Whanks 
 kindly. 
 
 ‘ Go home, there’s a good fellow. I cannot talk 
 to you now. Go and get some food and sleep 
 and you will be all right to-night/ pleaded Leila. 
 
 ‘You hold your tongue at once!’ replied her 
 husband. ‘ Once more let me tell you I am wait- 
 ing for you,’ he added impatiently. 
 
 She went towards him quietly and calmly, but 
 there was a subdued defiance in her eyes and 
 manner which did not escape her husband’s notice. 
 
 He knew she was chafing against the restraints 
 he imposed upon her, and that her duties in the 
 ring fretted her continually, but so long as her 
 defiance did not openly betray itself he was 
 satisfied ; for her inward sufferings he cared little. 
 Once or twice, when they were cn the Continent, 
 his attention had been called by Ringens and 
 others to his wife’s delicate health ; her pale, care- 
 worn face, with its brilliant hectic flush, her large 
 eyes, looking like those of a hunted fawn, had 
 drawn very honest sympathy from those engaged 
 
‘ MY aunt’s money.’ 
 
 139 
 
 at the circus. But this commiseration had not 
 the slightest effect upon Castelli. He was con- 
 siderably annoyed that his wife should be under 
 their discussion at all, and he frankly told them 
 that it was no business of theirs, and that his wife 
 was well enough and he did not mean to have her 
 made into an invalid ; perhaps they would look after 
 their own wives and leave him to do the same. 
 
 They never interfered again. But Ringens and 
 Whanks watched her grow more fragile every day. 
 They saw the flush deepen upon the slightest exer- 
 tion, and at times her eyes grew bright as stars 
 and she would seem nervous and restless as her 
 time came to go into the ring. 
 
 Once, in Brussels, when she seemed unusually 
 tired, Whanks had ventured to advise that she 
 should rest a little, he was so fond of the young 
 girl who had come among them, and her husband’s 
 neglect and severity had been a source of great 
 trouble to the faithful servant, and Leila, grateful 
 for any small kindness, returned his devotion un- 
 grudgingly. 
 
 ‘ No, I cannot rest, Whanks,’ she replied, amused 
 at his tender thought for her health. Your master 
 would not approve of that ; he would think I was 
 lazy.’ 
 
 She smiled, but there was such a sad look on her 
 face as she did so that Whanks felt, as he after- 
 wards described it to a fellow-groom, ‘ as if he could 
 have cried like a baby.’ 
 
 ‘ The master is as hard as a brick, and terribly 
 cruel at times, and if I was in your place I’d — ’ 
 
 ‘Hush,’ interposed Leila firmly, ‘you must not 
 speak so ; he is my husband.’ 
 
 ‘ More’s the pity, that’s what I says,’ replied 
 Whanks, unabashed at the reproof ; ‘ more’s the 
 pity,’ he repeated. 
 
140 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 There were others who thought the same, but 
 Leila did not know it. She was unaware of all the 
 kindly feeling bestowed upon her by those around 
 simply because she was Castelli’s wife and the 
 mother of his children. 
 
 But so it was. 
 
 The next day when Castelli went down to the 
 circus, expecting to find Whanks as usual, for his 
 notice to quit had so far been a mere form, he was 
 surprised at his non-appearance. 
 
 In answer to his inquiries, he was told that 
 Whanks had come into some money and had 
 started or was going to start to York that day. 
 Castelli could hardly believe that the man was 
 gone, he had been so accustomed to scold him for 
 his faults, to use horrible oaths, to give him notice 
 to quit his service and then retain him, that he 
 supposed naturally this occasion would not in any 
 w^ay differ from the others ; but to his dismay he 
 found the faithful retainer gone at last. The day 
 wore on, but still no Whanks appeared, and as the 
 evening approached he sent a messenger to the 
 man’s apartments. He had gone away by train 
 that morning, that was all they knew about him. 
 He had told them he was not going to the circus 
 again as business called him to York. This put 
 Castelli to the greatest inconvenience in the ring, 
 having to find a substitute at so short a notice, and 
 Leila passed a very uncomfortable hour with her 
 husband previous to the evening ‘show.’ He 
 abused Whanks heartily, and used such terrible 
 expletives that she felt almost afraid to be in his 
 presence ; yet she dared not interrupt him or 
 suggest that he had dismissed the man himself, 
 and therefore could not blame him. She only sat 
 and listened, sighing now and again. 
 
 Whanks, unconscious of all the trouble his absence 
 
‘MY aunt’s money.’ 
 
 I4I 
 
 had caused in the circus, had spent a few very busy 
 hours in York. He had seen the solicitors, and was 
 satisfied with the interview, and as he sauntered 
 down to his apartments, through Bootham Bar, he 
 was meditating what his best plans for the future 
 would be. Leave the circus profession he was 
 most determined. He knew he had no strength 
 to withstand the temptations of his old surround- 
 ings. He would break with them once and for all; 
 and when he entered Gillygate he had made up 
 his mind that his only chance to get on would 
 be to go away, as soon as his arrangements were 
 completed in York, and not to put himself in the 
 touch of his old comrades again. 
 
 He felt happier after making this resolve, and it 
 was not until he was standing at the window of his 
 sitting-room, looking out on the short garden backed 
 by the crumbling city walls — for it was not in the 
 days of restoration, which enables us to walk round 
 the city ramparts — that his thoughts became centred 
 upon Leila and her children. In his excitement he 
 had forgotten that he must part with them also, 
 that giving up the circus meant that Leila would 
 be left without a friend. And then there would be 
 the good-bye to be said, and perhaps he should 
 never see her again. Why should he not go 
 back to the circus and keep sober, and he could be 
 a friend still to the pale, weary wife ? Then his 
 thoughts rambled on to his condition. The very 
 last time he had seen her had he not disgraced 
 himself, and stood before her besotted and incap- 
 able of protecting himself from Castelli’s wrath? 
 Like a hound she had seen him flung at her feet. 
 No, he would not go back. He would write to 
 her one last letter and tell her his plans and his 
 hopes. 
 
 He called for paper and ink, and sat down to 
 
142 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 his self-imposed task as if fearful of altering his 
 decision. 
 
 ‘ Gillygate, 
 ‘York. 
 
 'Dear Miss Leila, — It is right that kindness 
 should never be forgotten. To remember it is the 
 fruit of friendship. Poor outcast as I am you were 
 never too proud to befriend me, although I took 
 more to drink than I should. I trusted too much 
 to the beer before I knew the effect of the habit, 
 and I shall repent all the carousing until I die. I 
 hope you will believe that, Miss Leila — God forgive 
 me for calling you Miss Leila. The old proverb 
 says, "What is well begun is half ended.’' I began 
 to call you Miss Leila years ago, and somehow the 
 old name rises on my lips, and I should like to end 
 with it, so you must forgive me. They say every- 
 one has two ways of thinking, and I think it would 
 have been best if you had been Miss Leila to the 
 last. But you think differently I suppose. 
 
 ' I am not coming back again to the circus. 
 Tell my master that the worm he trod on has 
 turned at last — that the grain of my patience has 
 run out. But I am writing to wish you good-bye 
 and good luck, and to tell you that I have my 
 aunt’s money, so I am going away to some other 
 country — where, I don’t quite know yet. If I stay 
 in England all my money will soon be spent, and 
 then it will be too late, and all will be done for. 
 I shall try and get some work in the new place — 
 because I could not live and do nothing — and it’s 
 " better to play a small game than stand out.” 
 That’s a motto my poor aunt was fond of saying to 
 me years ago, poor dear. 
 
 ' I have been thinking what keepsake I could 
 send you, but on second thoughts I think the 
 master might not like me to send you a gift, so 
 
MY aunt’s money.’ 
 
 143 
 
 I shall send you a promise instead, which is, that 
 for your sake I shall keep out of the public-house. 
 That is a keepsake turned the wrong way about, 
 but I think it will be one that will please you. 
 
 ‘ I was going to give a “ foy ” to some of my 
 chums before I leave the old country, but I have 
 made up my mind not to do it, in case I am a fool 
 again and don’t resist the drink. They may ex- 
 pect me to treat them, but when I think of you. 
 Miss Leila, I determine to be steady. 
 
 ‘ Miss Leila, will you say good-bye to the chil- 
 dren for me. Tell them Whanks sends his love, 
 and he will never forget them. I am a bit troubled 
 about the master’s horses. I loved them all, they 
 all knew me, and “ Spanishfly ” would neigh every 
 time I went to her stall ; and now they are left to 
 other hands. Perhaps there is no one to stroke 
 them and soothe them after the whip. I think they 
 must look for me sometimes and wonder where 
 I am. I wish you could tell them all about it, and 
 set their hearts at rest. I would have come and 
 seen them myself, but I couldn’t face the farewell. 
 I’m such a mortal coward. My aunt left me four 
 hundred pounds. No more news. So once more 
 I bid you good-bye. Miss Leila, — And remain your 
 devoted servant, Whanks.’ 
 
 ‘P.vS. — God bless you, the children, and the 
 horses. I never mean to get drunk again.’ 
 
 When Leila received this characteristic letter 
 from Whanks she was filled with grief at the loss 
 of her old friend — for such she had learnt to regard 
 him. As her husband’s treatment of her became 
 worse she had relied more on the faithful servant, 
 and he had always been specially kind to her and 
 devoted to her children. 
 
144 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 In the mothers heart regret at Whanks’ de- 
 parture was very sincere, but the loss of him for 
 her little ones touched her more deeply. Whanks 
 to them had been everything. What time he had he 
 devoted to them for little walks. How many pence 
 he had spent to please their childish fancies, how 
 tender and gentle he had been to them, and often, 
 when Leila was heart-broken and weary, he had 
 fetched the children for a bit that she might rest. 
 
 At the rehearsals, too, he had, as he expressed 
 it, ‘ kept an eye on Miss Leila if the master was in 
 one of his tantrums,’ and it had been his special 
 pride to keep her mare well groomed and to send 
 her into the ring the smartest horse in the stables. 
 And now there would be no one to do all these 
 kindly offices for her and the children, no one to 
 whom they could look for uniform kindness and 
 attention. Somehow Leila had felt a sort of safety 
 and protection in Whanks, an undefined feeling 
 that nothing very terrible could happen to her or 
 the little ones as long as he was near to them. 
 She could hardly realise all this was at an end, 
 that the old familiar face would never cheer her 
 again with its welcome smile, that happiness was 
 gone now, the pleasure past. The future must be 
 faced, but it would be more lonely, more weary 
 now he was gone. 
 
 There was a void in her life because the true- 
 hearted friend and servant was gone. 
 
 ‘ Friend and servant’ The world will sneer at 
 the affinity. Let it scoff and express doubt with 
 ludicrous scorn that such a thing can exist. It 
 matters not, for the association lives despite con- 
 tempt and disdain. That is well. 
 
 Whanks had been the soul of loyalty to his 
 mistress, and a very pattern true - blue to his 
 master. Leila knew this, and appreciated him 
 
'MY aunt’s money.’ 
 
 145 
 
 deeply, consequently his loss seemed to her most 
 serious. But her husband viewed the matter much 
 more coolly, and when she expressed in strong terms 
 her sorrow at the man’s departure, he replied, — 
 
 ' Don’t be a fool. I can get a groom before this 
 time to-morrow better than Whanks fifty times over. 
 He was a drunken beast. I’m glad he’s gone.’ 
 
 ' He was so kind to me and the children,’ said 
 Leila. ' I shall miss him dreadfully. The place 
 won’t seem the same,’ she added wearily. 
 
 ' Pity you did not go with him if that’s how the 
 matter stands,’ replied Castelli with a sneer. 
 
 Leila was silent, but a flush of shame overspread 
 her face at his despicable words. Why did he im- 
 pute sinful thoughts to her when she had remained 
 faithful and true through all his cruelty, all his harsh- 
 ness, without a murmur or wifely retaliation ? 
 
 But his words made another wound in her heart. 
 No wonder she felt alone and grieved when another 
 friend was gone. 
 
 She never spoke to Castelli of Whanks after that 
 day, and she hushed the children in his presence 
 when they spoke together of ' dear old Whankie.’ 
 The gulf between husband and wife was grow- 
 ing deeper and wider. The bridge of unity and 
 confidence had long since been destroyed. 
 
 It was impossible to reunite the structure. 
 
 A week after Leila had received her letter from 
 Whanks a ship was moving slowly out of the Mer- 
 sey docks in Liverpool. Very stately she looked 
 as she glided towards the open sea, bound for 
 foreign lands. Many of her passengers stood on 
 the deck, waving their hands and handkerchiefs 
 to the loved ones left behind. One man stood a 
 little apart from the rest. He never glanced at 
 the group of distressed friends on the quay. He 
 never heeded a young girl by his side, weeping for 
 K 
 
146 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 the mother left behind. He only turned his face 
 seaward and cried, ‘ God bless Miss Leila — God 
 bless her,’ he said solemnly, and something like 
 tears made their way down his rugged cheeks. 
 ‘ My heart is with you to the last, Miss Leila, to 
 the last, though you may never know it.’ 
 
 The Southern Cross sped on her way, carrying her 
 freight of gladdened hearts and sorrow-laden lives — 
 some going to those who had waited patiently for 
 years for their outcoming, others had left home, 
 wife, and children to seek fortune in a far-off country. 
 
 Whanks had gone to begin a new life, to avoid 
 the temptations he could not resist. 
 
 Leila was left behind to mourn a faithful friend 
 gone for ever. 
 
 Such is life. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ‘THE WAGES OF SIN.’ 
 
 There is a tenderness born in the soul which 
 breathes out memories that can never die — a 
 sweetness sown at birth and cherished lovingly 
 until hoary age. 
 
 That is a mother’s love. 
 
 What a mystery lies in that tenderness. Surely 
 there is magic in the sound of the golden strings 
 which strain the tune of a mother’s love ; surely 
 the sweet voice comes back, bringing with it 
 visions of beauty and rapture for ever the same — 
 like a meteor’s flash they brighten the darkest 
 night, and light the shadows when the world is 
 full of woe, and hopes lie dead. 
 
 How divine a thing it is ! 
 
 But when the coils of sin wind themselves round 
 
‘THE WAGES OF SIN/ 
 
 147 
 
 the bonds of love so that its beauties are hidden, its 
 fragrance gone, its exaltation defiled, how terrible 
 is the curse. 
 
 Leila, more or less, had felt her mother’s shame 
 since the day she became Castelli’s wife. Some 
 slight, some word brought to her the taint of a 
 mother’s depravity, and she had constantly to bear 
 the burden of another’s wrong. 
 
 It was nearly six months since Leila had seen her 
 mother on the stage of the cafe chantant in Paris. 
 During that time the dying woman had wanted 
 for nothing that love and money could procure. At 
 first she seemed to rally, and Leila began to hope 
 that she would regain her health as time went on. 
 But how vain was such a hope. The runaway wife, 
 the discarded mistress, the broken-hearted mother 
 was fast fading away, and death was hovering near. 
 
 Unknown to her husband, Leila had gladdened 
 her mother’s last days on earth ; and it was not 
 until an act of carelessness on her part betrayed 
 the secret that Castelli had the slightest idea of the 
 clandestine meetings between Leila and her mother. 
 Inadvertently she had left a letter directed to her 
 on the table whilst she went into another room 
 to dress, preparatory to going to the post office. 
 Castelli returned somewhat unexpectedly from the 
 circus and found the missive. An angry flush 
 passed over his face as he read the address, Mrs 
 Gurney, Scotland Road, Liverpool. 
 
 ‘ So her wretched mother has come on the scene, 
 has she ? ’ he murmured, and without the slightest 
 scruple he tore the letter open. He read the few 
 loving lines, which sent a postal order for rent and 
 food, and then, with an imprecation, he hastily put 
 it in his pocket. 
 
 Leila entered the room at this moment, and seeing 
 her letter was gone, she divined the truth at once. 
 
148 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 The worst was at hand — her secret was out at 
 last, there was no need to confess it. Her letter 
 had told him all. There were only the consequences 
 of her deceit to bear, and the sooner the explana- 
 tion was over the better. Outwardly she was very 
 calm, but her heart throbbed loudly, and it was 
 with difficulty she restrained her voice from show- 
 ing how much she dreaded the ordeal. 
 
 For a moment she stood confronting him, and 
 then she spoke. 
 
 'You have taken a letter of mine from the table 
 I believe,’ she added quietly. ' It is a private affair 
 of my own, please give it to me.’ 
 
 She looked at him. He stood silently before her, 
 pale, firm, and resolute, like a man who had deter- 
 mined upon a resolution and intended to carry it 
 out without flinching. 
 
 At last he broke the terrible silence. 
 
 ' There is nothing private from your husband. I 
 have read your charming letter, it does you credit 
 as a dutiful daughter — and a lying wife,’ he added 
 with a sneer. 
 
 ' I can write to my mother if I choose,’ replied 
 Leila angrily. ' It has nothing to do with you.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, I intend to make it a great deal to do with 
 me for the future,’ he replied firmly. ' But before 
 we go on further with this nice little comedy, may 
 I inquire how this correspondence came about and 
 how long it has been going on ? ’ 
 
 Leila knew that to prevaricate would be useless 
 before so stern a judge — it would be better to try 
 and win his favour rather than arouse him to further 
 anger ; and so in a few words she described the 
 meeting in Paris, and Ringens’ kindness in calling 
 upon her mother, and the awful poverty to which 
 she was reduced. Eloquently she pleaded for the 
 deserted mother. 
 
‘THE WAGES OF SIN.’ 149 
 
 He had listened attentively throughout the painful 
 recital, and when she paused he said calmly, — 
 
 ‘Indeed, and what is all this to do with you? 
 You and that Bible reading Ringens thought best 
 to keep me in the dark. If your mother has come 
 to want, it is just what she deserves, and I shall 
 permit no further help to go from this house. By- 
 the-bye, how came she to Liverpool ? What other 
 sneaky trick was played upon me ? Speak out ; I 
 will have nothing but the truth.’ 
 
 ‘ I asked Ringens to bring her over when he left 
 our circus; she was here a week before we were. 
 I could not leave her there to die,’ pleaded Leila 
 with much feeling. ‘ Emilio, she is my mother.’ 
 
 ‘ Y our mother — a fine mother ! I wonder you care 
 to own the relationship,’ he answered with a sneer. 
 ‘ So all this pretty arrangement was carried out for 
 you by Ringens, was it? Is he your lover,’ he 
 asked coldly, ‘that you should persuade him to 
 deceive me and to make your life a fraud, a lie ? 
 
 For a moment Leila was aghast at his terrible 
 question, and then she replied with a voice trembling 
 with rage, — 
 
 ‘ Do you dare to impute such a name to him ! He 
 was good, and true, and kind ; he saved my mother, 
 and I will thank him for it till I die. You — you 
 have no heart. It was worse than useless to appeal 
 to you. She might have died for all you would have 
 done, I knew that, but I will give her all the help 
 I can, for all you may say, for all you may do,’ she 
 added passionately. 
 
 ‘ You will not,’ he replied firmly ; ‘ and as to im- 
 puting such wickedness to you, I don’t know why 
 I should not. A woman who lets another man, 
 rather than her husband, carry out secret plans and 
 plots can’t be over straight — that’s plain enough. 
 You can’t make me believe chalk is black, or that 
 
150 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 you are too white. Ringens is a church -going 
 hypocrite, and the next time that gentleman 
 comes across my path I shall have a nice lot to 
 say to him.’ 
 
 ‘You are lying — putting others down to be 
 measured by your own bushel. It was humanity — 
 humanity,’ she repeated with force, ‘ which made me 
 deceive you in order to save my mother.’ 
 
 ‘ Let those save her who took her from her home. 
 I will not allow you to support a woman of that 
 class, mother or no mother. I’m not going to slave 
 to keep such a woman, neither shall you. She has 
 a husband and a protector. It’s a pity one of the 
 gentlemen cannot support her,’ he added with a sneer. 
 
 ‘ Are you so very moral that you can speak of 
 my mother in those terms ? Are you not one of the 
 class that tempt women and leave them^ when your 
 passion has died ? I have heard of you, Emilio, 
 before to-day. I know your life has not been all 
 plain sailing. Why condemn my mother? She is 
 what a man has made her,’ she added sadly. 
 
 ‘ What you have heard about me I don’t care the 
 least,’ replied Castelli calmly. ‘ But, once and for 
 all, I forbid you sending letters and money to your 
 mother. It shall not be done again.’ 
 
 ‘ It shall,’ replied Leila with great determination. 
 
 ‘ Do you intend to disobey me, Leila ? ’ asked her 
 husband severely. 
 
 ‘ In this case, most certainly. I do not intend to 
 forget my duties as a daughter,’ replied Leila with 
 great determination. ‘Your insults will not hurt me, 
 but to neglect my mother in her extremity would be 
 wicked indeed. I shall not risk the responsibility.’ 
 ‘ I shall,’ answered Castelli firmly ; ‘ and as my 
 wife you shall obey my orders.’ 
 
 ‘ I will not,’ said Leila with all the firmness she 
 could command. 
 
‘THE WAGES OF SIN/ 151 
 
 ‘Then I shall take steps to make you. You are 
 quite resolved to follow your own way, and I am 
 just as determined that you shall follow my way. 
 There is no more to be said.' 
 
 Leila's face changed as her husband finished 
 speaking. The eyes grew less fixed and deter- 
 mined, a gentler look came over her. She would 
 plead now for the erring mother ; she would try 
 to melt the merciless heart of her husband. She 
 went closer to him, and putting up her hands, laid 
 them timidly on his shoulders, and spoke with great 
 effort on behalf of the sinning woman. 
 
 ‘ Emilio, for the sake of the dear old days, for the 
 sake of the love you once bore me, worit you let 
 me do this one thing for my mother? It would 
 make me so happy. Do listen to me this once,' 
 she pleaded. 
 
 ‘ I cannot,' he replied more quietly than he had 
 yet spoken. ‘You’ve deceived me throughout. It 
 is useless to expect me to meet you on your own 
 terms now. My decision is irrevocable. You 
 should have told me honestly the first time you 
 met her in Paris. It is too late to beg the favour 
 now,' he added decisively. 
 
 ‘ Surely, surely it is not,' she replied pathetically, 
 the tears welling to her eyes, her white, sad face 
 looking more hopeless than ever in the intense 
 anguish she was suffering. 
 
 He put her away from him forcibly, but not 
 roughly. She looked up into his face, but there was 
 no sign of relenting, no tender smile to assure her it 
 was all right. As he did not speak, she continued, — 
 
 ‘ Will you think it over and not refuse me yet ? ' 
 
 ‘No, Leila, I shall be firm to what I have said. 
 There is no chance of my relenting — none.’ 
 
 His tone of positive refusal aroused her temper 
 in a moment. Supplication turned to anger, her 
 
152 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 entreaties gave place to acute pain, caused by his 
 heartless and persistent cruelty. 
 
 ‘You can be firm, and so shall I,* she replied 
 angrily. ‘ I work hard enough for what I earn, and 
 I shall spend it as I choose.’ 
 
 ‘ Will you ? ’ He smiled meaningly. ‘ I think 
 I can settle that question.’ 
 
 And settle it he did. From that day henceforth 
 he withdrew from Leila the usual sum for the 
 household expenditure. All bills he paid himself ; 
 he knew exactly how much every item cost. The 
 money they earned together for their ‘ show ’ he 
 kept towards the general expenses. At the same 
 time he was careful that his wife should not actu- 
 ally want for anything to which he had accustomed 
 her ; she might order necessities both in food or 
 dress, but he would settle the payment. By this 
 means no money passed through her hands ; prac- 
 tically the means of assisting her mother were gone. 
 
 Castelli had said no more on the subject, but 
 quietly he adopted these measures, and rigidly en- 
 forced them. His conduct gave Leila the greatest 
 worry and anxiety. What could she do in her 
 dilemma ? She dare not apply to Ringens for 
 money ; her husband was obdurate, there seemed 
 no mercy, no help at hand, and Leila began to 
 grow very much paler and more languid. 
 
 What little love had remained for her husband 
 faded out of her heart and life during this period of 
 intense suffering. She would have been so grateful 
 to him if only he would have helped her to soothe the 
 last days of her mother. They would not be many; 
 the doctor had told her that the disease was mak- 
 ing terrible headway, and Leila knew that was true. 
 Some days she seemed better and brighter, almost 
 herself again, then came awful days of suffering for 
 the consumptive patient. 
 
‘THE WAGES OF STN/ 
 
 153 
 
 One morning Leila, in spite of her husband’s 
 wishes, visited her mother in Scotland Road. She 
 knew money had run out, and that the invalid 
 must be in need of actual necessities. She deemed 
 it wise to tell her mother at once that she could 
 supply her no longer with funds to provide for her 
 daily expenses. 
 
 Mrs Gurney listened to every word her daughter 
 uttered, and then she startled Leila by exclaiming, — 
 ‘Your husband is quite right. Why should he 
 help to keep me? me, a profligate woman, a dis- 
 solute creature/ she added excitedly. ‘ I will go 
 to those who should help me. I will go once more 
 to my seducer, and show him my pitiable condition. 
 He cannot refuse me now, surely. I must have 
 food, and he .shall find it’ 
 
 Leila begged her mother not to appeal to the 
 man who had been the direct cause of all her 
 misery ; but she held firmly to her purpose in 
 spite of her daughter’s remonstrances. 
 
 ‘ Why not write to my father ? ’ asked Leila 
 gently. She did not like to use the word husband. 
 ‘ Surely he should know how ill you are and how 
 great is your need. I have brought you a little 
 money,’ she added sadly, ‘ but it is not much — two 
 pounds in all. I have parted with the last gold 
 ornaments I have, so this will be all I can give 
 you. Something must be done.’ 
 
 ‘ Something shall ! ’ replied her mother wildly. 
 ‘ I’ve made up my mind to go to Southport and 
 see Herbert Clifford — go I will, this very day — but 
 write to my husband — never, never ! ’ she screamed. 
 ‘ Are you mad to propose such a thing ? Ask him 
 for money, when he would gloat over my death, 
 and tell me how just was my punishment — never, 
 no, never ! ’ she added with passion. 
 
 Leila saw at once that her mother’s condition 
 
1 54 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 was not such as to warrant continual contradiction, 
 therefore she decided to go home and write to her 
 father in her mother’s name, telling him of her 
 remorse, and begging his forgiveness. This done, 
 she felt as if she had done all that remained to 
 her. If only Tom had remained her friend she 
 would have turned to him now to help their mother, 
 and half the burden and care would have been re- 
 moved. But Leila had written to him after her 
 marriage and received no reply, and she never 
 wrote again. Poor Leila, she did not know that 
 the vessel carrying out her letter had been cast 
 away and all the mail lost. She put his silence 
 down to anger at her marriage. She was ignorant, 
 too, of a pile of letters which had come to her at 
 the old home, to be sent on, but which had been 
 given as food for the flames by the unforgiving 
 father. So to Tom she never dreamt of applying. 
 He, like her other friends, had gone out of her life. 
 
 Bitter, bitter were her thoughts of the past, with 
 all its happy unshaded hours, the whispered love, 
 the joys of home. 
 
 But these delights were lost to both for ever now. 
 
 Herbert Clifford was lounging in his library, 
 smoking and reading to while away the time. 
 Through luck, not quite apart from swindling, he 
 had risen from a comparatively poor man to a very 
 wealthy one, and with his riches his character had 
 become more loose, more dishonourable than ever. 
 His face and form had lost none of their beauty 
 and grace since the day he had tempted Alice 
 Gurney from her home, but he had used his 
 radiant eyes, his fascinating face to lead others 
 into the great vortex of the lost. And they in 
 turn were left to their depths of despair and misery, 
 cursing the day when the handsome Herbert Clif- 
 ford had crossed the threshold of their lives. 
 
'THE WAGES OF SIN/ 
 
 155 
 
 But their griefs did not trouble him, unbridled 
 passion knows no mercy, and morally he had 
 sunk so low that to stamp a deeper dye on his 
 blackened heart would have been impossible. His 
 corruption and iniquity were complete. No hell- 
 hound could boast of blacker sins or grosser vice. 
 
 Was it likely, then, that the dying woman, the 
 wreck of his sin, should hope for mercy from him 
 in her direst agony ? 
 
 The door opened, she was announced, and 
 Herbert Clifford saw before him the woman he 
 had once professed to love. There she stood facing 
 her deserter, all the glow of beauty decayed, all the 
 magic charm gone, with nothing but despair to 
 take its place. Her quick, hurried breathing could 
 be heard in the silent room. She put her hand on 
 the back of a chair for support, and with one 
 desperate impulse she cried, — 
 
 ' Herbert Clifford, have you forgotten me ? You 
 must remember me ? ’ 
 
 She put out her arms towards him, but he drew 
 back and repulsed her roughly, and exclaimed with 
 fury,— 
 
 ' How dare you come here? You are nothing to 
 me. What do you mean by coming to my house ? 
 Are you not ashamed to show your face ? ' 
 
 'Not to you,’ she replied wearily. 'To all else, 
 but not to you. I have dared to come because I 
 am ill — dying, and almost starving for bread. I 
 have come to you because you promised once to 
 care for me till death. You have made me what I 
 am. You have brought me to guilt and misery. 
 It is to you I come for help — can you refuse it?’ 
 Her imploring tone, her agony and despair were 
 nothing to him, and he replied, with a cruel smile, — 
 'Did I promise to care for you till death? If I 
 did I was drunk when I said it. If you are ill 
 
SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 156 
 
 and dying it's nothing to me, and your parish will 
 give you bread. You have no right to come to me 
 for help. I am not going to undertake to look 
 after every woman who chooses to run after me. 
 You left your home for a passing fancy, and now 
 you repent, that is no business of mine.' 
 
 ‘ Left my home for a passing fancy ? ' she wailed ; 
 ‘oh, Herbert, Herbert, I left it for you, and you 
 alone. I was vain in those days, and you whispered 
 to me of love and hopes. You bid me fly. You 
 roused my passions, and, maddened, I obeyed. 
 Apostate, liar, coward, you mock me now, do you ? 
 You would thrust me from your presence, to die 
 in yonder street, and scoff at me as you passed ? ' 
 
 ‘ I daresay I should,' replied Herbert Clifford 
 carelessly as he lit another cigar. ‘ You see,' he con- 
 tinued, ‘ you grew tired of your husband and home. 
 I, like a fool, took you in, and there’s the end of it. 
 If you choose to change your life, no one is to 
 blame but yourself,' he added cruelly. 
 
 ‘You say that to me when you led me astray — 
 you who have made my life a misery, a curse too 
 heavy to be borne ; you who tempted me from 
 plenty, to cast me off without enough to buy a loaf. 
 Shame, shame ! Herbert Clifford, shame be on you 
 to the grave !' 
 
 She cast her eyes about wildly as she spoke, and 
 her breathing became more laboured. 
 
 ‘ Thanks for the good wishes,' he replied with 
 sarcasm. ‘You see the devil was very busy the 
 day I was born ; and as for the casting off business, 
 I never asked you to come with me. There's the 
 workhouse for such as you,' he said with a fiendish 
 laugh. 
 
 She sank down upon a low couch as he spoke and 
 hid her face with her white hands, upon which the 
 wedding ring still glistened. It seemed as if she 
 
'THE WAGES OF SIN.’ 
 
 157 
 
 Wished to hide her eyes from the hate and loathing 
 of the man before her. Suddenly she arose. A 
 sullen, hopeless wrath had come over her face, as if 
 she had remembered that love, honour, pride, and 
 chastity, the empires of a woman’s world, were gone ; 
 that the lover, the serpent, for whom she had sacri- 
 ficed all, spurned her from him, that he would not 
 throw her a crust, as the beggar does to the mongrel 
 by his side. 
 
 But again she made one frantic effort, one frenzied 
 appeal to him for mercy. Trembling with passion 
 and excitement, but too weak to let it be her master, 
 she rushed to his side, and taking hold of one of the 
 elegant jewelled hands, pressed it passionately to her 
 lips, exclaiming, — 
 
 ' Herbert, look at me ! look at me as you used to 
 do! Once you loved me! I love you still, Herbert!’ 
 
 She screamed. He had wrenched his hand away 
 from her feeble grasp with a terrible oath. 
 
 A sharp cry of despair rang through the room 
 again and again, and then she flung herself down 
 and invoked his aid and his love. 
 
 ' Get away, you snivelling idiot,’ he shouted, with 
 a coarse imprecation, and he put out his foot to 
 kick her. 
 
 She grew deathly pale and gasped out, — 
 
 ' Brandy, give me brandy. I am dying — quick — 
 quick ! ’ 
 
 ' You’re drunk more likely,’ said Herbert Clifford. 
 'You’ll get no brandy here. Get up, I tell you, or 
 I’ll make you.’ 
 
 A shriek — a shuddering moan — another shriek. 
 
 ' Look, look ! What is this ? she cried, terrified, 
 holding up her handkerchief, now dyed deeply with 
 crimson blood. 
 
 She fell forward, and a stream issued from her 
 lips which made Herbert Clifford, selfish and 
 
IS8 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 hardened as he was, utter a stifled groan. He 
 rushed to the bell. The affrighted valet helped 
 his master to place the bleeding woman on the 
 sofa. She tried to speak as he touched her, but 
 the lamp of life had burnt too low. 
 
 A doctor was soon on the spot. She was still 
 breathing, and convulsive tremors passed over now 
 and then, but she never spoke. Language was gone 
 for ever, for death was waiting to claim his victim. 
 Just before the end she opened her eyes and fixed 
 them with a horrible stare upon Clifford. So 
 terrible was her look that he turned away, awed and 
 mute, frightened at death in its most awful form. 
 
 More glassy they grew, and she followed his every 
 movement until at last a look of unutterable agony 
 came into them. She gasped feebly, and one moan 
 came from the pale lips, and then the pulse of life 
 was dead. 
 
 All was over. 
 
 When the doctor pronounced her dead, Herbert 
 Clifford turned to him and said, — 
 
 ‘ Now, I suppose, there’ll be the bother of an 
 inquest ? ’ 
 
 The doctor looked up at the speaker, recoiling in 
 disgust at the callous way in which he uttered the 
 words, and replied, — 
 
 ‘ Knowing so little of the case, I cannot give any 
 certificate.’ 
 
 ‘ Cannot it be avoided anyhow ? It will be a 
 most infernal nuisance for me. People chatter so,’ 
 said Clifford. 
 
 ‘ Well, you must find out who has been attending 
 her, and get a certificate in the ordinary manner. 
 Of course, you know all about the lady ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Indeed I don’t. I haven’t seen her for years. 
 Cannot you take this matter in hand for me and 
 communicate with her friends ? The whole thing 
 
‘THE WAGES OF SIN.’ 
 
 159 
 
 would do me a great deal of harm if it became a 
 public scandal. A man of my means/ he added 
 proudly, ‘ is always worried by a parcel of begging 
 women, but I never had one serve me this trick 
 before.’ 
 
 ‘ I have to find her friends first/ replied the doctor 
 gravely, disbelieving the heartless speech. 
 
 After her death a letter from Leila to her mother 
 was found in the pocket of her dress, and then the 
 doctor sent a telegram informing Leila of her death. 
 
 Leaving a short note behind for her husband, she 
 hurried off to Southport. Herbert Clifford had left 
 the house. There was no one there but the servants, 
 who sent for the doctor at once upon her arrival. 
 From Leila he learnt the true state of affairs — of 
 her mother’s long illness and the reason of her visit 
 to Clifford, with a description of his contemptible 
 conduct. 
 
 Before she left she was shown to the room where 
 her mother lay calm and silent in death. None of 
 the passions of her lawless life were visible on the 
 marble face. She looked less worn and wan than 
 in her lifetime, and her features had regained some 
 of the traces of her refined beauty. Leila stooped 
 and kissed her, the last token of a daughter’s love. 
 Then she withdrew, shuddering at the thoughts 
 which would come — of the blighted life, the unre- 
 deemable remorse of years, and then the awful 
 death with heaven so far away, for the voices of the 
 angels had not called her home — and Leila went her 
 way troubled and maddened by the thought of her 
 sinning and dead mother. 
 
 That evening when Castelli came home she said 
 to him, — 
 
 ‘ My mother is dead. She lies in the house of 
 the villain who betrayed her. With his money he 
 will lay her in the grave, for I have none to give so 
 
i6o 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 that I can spare her memory that last degradation. 
 Must the curse rest upon her even in the grave? 
 Will you not help me to give her the last care the 
 dead can receive ? He must not, he shall not,’ she 
 cried excitedly, ‘ let his sullied gold buy her grave. 
 Let her sleep without a stone to mark her resting 
 place if you like, but, Emilio, let me take her from 
 his charge, dead though she is — it will make me 
 happy to feel I laid her in the grave,’ she cried 
 appealingly. 
 
 But he made her no reply. 
 
 Later a letter came from Leila’s father in response 
 to the urgent plea for forgiveness for the erring, 
 sinful wife. It contained these words : — 
 
 ‘ I can offer no pardon for such sin as yours — 
 you will go to your grave unforgiven by me.’ 
 
 She was going to her grave. And as Leila 
 crushed the heartless letter in her hand she 
 murmured, — 
 
 ‘ Death has been kindest after all.’ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN THE RING. 
 
 Six months had passed since Leila’s mother had 
 been laid in her grave. Six unhappy months for 
 Leila. Her husband had refused to bury her 
 mother. He had not even permitted her to at- 
 tend at the grave. 
 
 ' She has only come to what you might expect,’ 
 he told her brutally. ‘ Surely you cannot pretend 
 to mourn for her.’ 
 
IN THE RING. 
 
 l6l 
 
 But Leila did sorrow for her mother for all that. 
 Not that she forgot the disgrace brought on them 
 all by her evil course of life, but it was that very 
 sin which had aroused in Leila all her sympathy, 
 if not affection. She saw what cruel suffering her 
 mother’s wickedness had wrought, how terrible 
 was her remorse, how weary the days of desertion 
 had been when spurned by her base tempter — 
 rejected by her husband, deserted by all. 
 
 Apart from this, there was the tie of mother- 
 hood, that no sin can quite sever. Through all the 
 chances and changes of life that undefined and 
 indescribable clinging to a mother, whether she be 
 a sinner or a saint, will exist for ever. 
 
 The arab of the gutter seeks his drunken mother 
 and cries to her for bread. The disgraced son feels 
 pity and sympathy for the mother in the dock, for 
 is she not a parent after all? And some affection- 
 ate thoughts arise of her kindness long before the 
 awful change took place which made her a drunk- 
 ard or a felon. 
 
 In this all the world is akin. It matters not 
 whether the child is king, prince, peer, or beggar, 
 the link to motherhood is there. No sin on earth 
 has ever snapped it quite apart. 
 
 That would be degrading to the child. 
 
 Castelli could not understand his wife bearing 
 her mother the least particle of affection. His 
 mother had died when he was quite a child, and 
 his recollections of her were very vague and in- 
 distinct, and he had no sympathy with Leila. It 
 was not that he particularly objected to the immor- 
 ality committed by her mother, it was what he 
 considered the deceit she had practised upon him. 
 His pride had suffered. His wife’s want of confi- 
 dence in him had annoyed him beyond measure, and 
 to show his disapproval of her conduct he declined 
 L 
 
1 62 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 to assist her in any way in which her mother was 
 concerned. Even death found him immovable. 
 
 But with his determined decision came a change 
 in his wife which he did not expect, and it annoyed 
 him more than he chose to own. 
 
 Although not openly declaring her dislike to him, 
 she simply ignored him whenever she dared. She 
 rarely addressed him beyond actual matters of 
 business, or pleaded for her children when he dealt 
 them a hasty blow for some trivial childish fault. 
 Immutably cold in her demeanour towards him, 
 she put up with his increasing severity and harsh- 
 ness without a murmur. Sometimes, when he had 
 been particularly sarcastic and cruel, she would give 
 him a sad, tender look, as if to mutely plead for his 
 love as of old. But soon the gentleness would die 
 out and a despairing, hardened glance take its place. 
 And so the weary weeks lagged on. 
 
 The hours of rehearsals at the circus she dreaded 
 the most. It took what little remaining strength 
 she had to carry her through her work with any 
 show of success, and her husband permitted nothing 
 to pass that was inaccurately or carelessly done. 
 
 There was no faithful Whanks there to brighten 
 her with a few kind words. The groom who had 
 taken his place had been a smart young man her 
 husband had picked up in the country, but he was 
 made of different stuff to the patient Whanks, and 
 at the end of the first month he declined to serve 
 so austere a master, and he went his way. Another 
 followed in his footsteps, an Italian, who did his 
 work well, but who was as passionate and severe as 
 his master. To Leila he was coldly civil, attending 
 to her horse and his duties in the ring with un- 
 failing skill, but to her personally he was utterly 
 indifferent, and her children never received the 
 smallest kindness from him. 
 
IN THE RING. 163 
 
 Once she remarked to her husband upon his 
 churlishness, and he replied, — 
 
 ‘ He suits me well enough. I don’t want a 
 groom making love to my wife. The less he says 
 the better I like him. He knows his place, and 
 that is more than that confounded Whanks did. 
 It was a good day when he took his carcase out of 
 the show.” ’ 
 
 Leila flushed at his words. She had been so fond 
 of the faithful, kind man who had helped her to bear 
 the burden of her life just when the weight of it be- 
 came apparent. She felt his loss acutely, and as 
 her relations with her husband became more and 
 more estranged, she longed to see him once again. 
 Her health, too, was failing fast. At times she 
 seemed too weak to hold in her fresh young mare, 
 and this brought down the wrath of her husband. 
 It was in vain that she told him how ill she felt, 
 and that it was beyond her powers to accomplish 
 the task. 
 
 He did not believe in women’s ailments. It was 
 only hysteria, or some crotchet or other. Had not 
 the doctor in Liverpool told him so when he had 
 asked his opinion months ago ? 
 
 ‘ A little passing weakness, that is all,’ had been 
 the verdict, and Castelli was determined nothing 
 more should be made out of it. 
 
 But doctors are mistaken sometimes, even when 
 death is very near at hand. 
 
 One morning at a rehearsal she pleaded illness 
 as an excuse for her inability to follow his direc- 
 tions, and Castelli became furious. Her horse be- 
 came difficult to manage, and her power to restrain 
 him was futile. 
 
 ‘ Rein her in, do you hear me? ’ he called. 
 
 ‘ I cannot, I really cannot hold her,’ she replied 
 plaintively. 
 
164 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 The horse continued to snort impatiently and to 
 rear and plunge vigorously. 
 
 ‘Do come and help me, Emilio,' she cried in 
 terror, for her continual and growing weakness had 
 not improved her nerves, and fear often overtook her 
 when the horse she rode performed some strange 
 freaks. 
 
 Once she had laughed and enjoyed thefun, but now 
 apprehension and dread had taken hold upon her. 
 
 Her husband stood in the ring watching the 
 prancing animal and the affrighted woman, but he 
 never moved towards her. He was perfectly calm 
 and self-possessed, and her fear did not touch him 
 in the least. But his face grew more white and 
 set ; his passion was rising beyond his con- 
 trol. She looked round with an anxious glance 
 to see if succour was near, but the circus was de- 
 serted except by her husband's groom. To appeal 
 to him would be practically useless ; but her alarm 
 was so great that as a last resource she would try it. 
 
 ‘Ticino,' she called, ‘ come to “ Champion's ” head; 
 I cannot hold her.' 
 
 The man looked towards his master as if await- 
 ing his instructions. Castelli interpreted the look, 
 and answered curtly, — 
 
 ‘ Remain where you are. My wife is quite capable 
 of managing the horse if she chooses.' 
 
 The man obeyed ; and this treatment gave the 
 finishing stroke to Leila's nervous tension. Her 
 despair at being alone with those two merciless men 
 was too much for her, ill and weak as she was. 
 The reins dropped from her trembling hands, and 
 lay listlessly upon the horse's neck. The animal, find- 
 ing itself free, was about to rush to the stables, when 
 Castelli, quick as thought, stopped its wild career. 
 
 ‘ Let me dismount, please,' pleaded Leila ; ‘ I am 
 so frightened,' and the tears came into her eyes. 
 
IN THE RING. 165 
 
 ‘ Dismount, indeed ! Til teach you to make a fool 
 of me ! ' cried Castelli, white with rage. 
 
 ^ Ticino, come here and hold this horse. Be 
 quick, do you hear me ? ' he roared, stamping his 
 foot impatiently. 
 
 The man obeyed, and then Castelli raised his 
 thin whip and struck his wife sharply across her 
 shoulders and arms. Again and again the cruel 
 cuts fell with biting force. 
 
 ‘ Now then, my lady, we’ll see who is master. 
 Once more, are you going to do as I tell you ? ’ 
 
 But she never spoke, she only stifled a moan of 
 pain and drew her breath in gasps, and became 
 white and terrified ; but her lips were closed, no 
 sound came from them. 
 
 ‘ Answer me, you fool!’ roared Castelli, his passion 
 stifling all sense of decency or respect for his wife. 
 ‘ Answer, do you hear 1 ’ he exclaimed, exasperated 
 with her silence. 
 
 Still no words issued from the quivering lips, 
 and then in his fury his whip fell again upon her 
 with remorseless energy. 
 
 She winced and shuddered under the cruel blows ; 
 the beating of her heart could be seen against her 
 habit ; its thud almost choked her, and a deadly 
 cold feeling was stealing over her. 
 
 But Castelli was too angry to note the change in 
 his wife’s face until Ticino called his attention to her. 
 
 ‘ Madam is fainting, you’d best take her from 
 the saddle,’ said the man coolly, not evincing the 
 slightest sympathy for the suffering woman. 
 
 ‘ Curse you, hold your tongue 1 ’ said Castelli. 
 
 But one glance at Leila’s face told him the man 
 was right, and he lifted his wife from the horse, and 
 turning to the groom said, — 
 
 ‘ Take the brute to the stables, and bring a glass 
 of water here, and look sharp about it.’ 
 
1 66 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Finding herself on the sawdust, she recovered 
 somewhat, and in a feeble voice she cried, — 
 
 ‘How could you? How could you do that? 
 Take me home. The pain — the pain has made me 
 faint and sick. Do let me go home,’ she pleaded. 
 
 He held her firmly round the waist so that she 
 should not fall ; but there was no pity in his face, 
 no anxiety in his voice as he spoke. 
 
 ‘ It serves you right,’ he replied, ‘ fooling about as 
 if you were an idiot. In future you will understand 
 what is in store for you.’ 
 
 A moan — like the cry of a wounded animal — that 
 was all her reply. 
 
 ‘ Hold that infernal noise, and drink this water.’ 
 
 But her teeth were firmly set, and he could not 
 get her to take a drop. 
 
 ‘You obstinate devil!’ he cried, ‘you want 
 another good hiding. Come here, Ticino, and give 
 me a hand.’ 
 
 Together they led her to her dressing-room and 
 placed her in a chair. 
 
 ‘ When you feel well enough to walk home you 
 can let me know,’ he added with a sneer. 
 
 ‘Don’t leave me, Emilio; I can go home now,’ 
 she said. ‘ I’d rather get home.’ 
 
 ‘ I’d rather you stayed here for a time,’ replied 
 Castelli with determination. 
 
 And so she sat on alone for one weary hour, 
 suffering acute pain, dazed and faint. 
 
 At last, with faltering steps, she reached home. 
 At the door her two children met her with out- 
 stretched arms and laughing, happy faces. Their 
 presence caused a terrible and sudden reaction to 
 set in ; she burst into uncontrolled fits of tears, 
 then she laughed and showed all the signs of 
 hysteria. 
 
 Castelli, his passion gone, brought her wine. 
 
IN THE RING. 
 
 167 
 
 Don’t come near me ; go away — go away. I 
 hate you, I loathe you — I wish I was dead ! ’ she 
 panted. 
 
 The children slunk away terrified. 
 
 ‘ Hold your tongue, do, Leila, unless you want 
 all the house up here, and don’t go on in this 
 absurd childish manner. Be off and lie down or 
 you will not be able to ride to-night, and that won’t 
 suit me by a long chalk.’ 
 
 ‘ Ride to-night,’ she repeated his words mechani- 
 cally, ‘ I cannot, I cannot. I could not sit in the 
 saddle/ 
 
 ‘ Oh, we’ll see about that,’ he replied severely. 
 
 ' I’m not going to let you do the invalid business, 
 I am determined. Go to your bed at once, do you 
 hear me ? ’ 
 
 Afraid to disobey, and yet trembling until she 
 could hardly stand, she staggered to her feet, and 
 managed to drag her weary limbs to her room. 
 Degraded, deprived of the dignity of womanhood, 
 struck as men strike dogs, disgraced before a 
 servant — no wonder her heart was broken. 
 
 That night she was made to rise from her sick- 
 bed and go to the circus as usual. 
 
 The people were waiting. The band struck up a 
 lively air, and Leila, side by side with her husband, 
 entered the ring to display her celebrated trick horse, 
 but so thin and wan was her face, so wild were her 
 eyes, so great her effort to keep her seat and manage 
 her horse, that she drew the attention of the whole 
 house to her suffering condition. Yet no one liked 
 to mark their disapprobation; they were afraid to be 
 the first to do so; it might be all a mistake. After 
 all, they supposed the woman knew best herself, and 
 so silence fell on the sightseers. 
 
 It was not until Castelli threw one angry flash at 
 his wife, and a low muttered oath, which did not 
 
1 68 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST, 
 
 escape the watchful eyes and ears of a few who sat 
 in the front row of the stalls, that suddenly a hiss 
 rose from a lady's lips, which was taken up by one 
 or two of the most daring in the vast assembly. 
 
 But the applause broke forth with renewed force, 
 the hisses were lost. 
 
 Humanity was crushed by the cowardice of the 
 people. 
 
 It is the same to-day. 
 
 Oh for a humanity strong enough, deep enough 
 to tread under its feet the cravens, the poltroons, 
 the timorous pleasure-goers who would rather let 
 suffering live than they should speak. Oh for a 
 humanity which dare plead for the pains of girl- 
 hood, for the degradation of womanhood. Away, 
 away with the faddist, away with those who offer a 
 lukewarm sympathy but dare not cry, ' I will help 
 the slaves of the sawdust, I will save those who 
 suffer for the pleasure of the people.' 
 
 Away with those who have so far fouled the 
 name of philanthropy by standing aloof when their 
 much vaunted services were most needed. 
 
 Philanthropy is one thing in name, another in 
 action. The one so easy, the other not very pleasant. 
 And so the agreeable way has been chosen, and 
 the emotional minds left in peace. 
 
 But the dawn is at hand, the faint flickering of 
 the morn is growing nearer, the light will burst, the 
 night be gone for ever, the brilliant day will break, 
 and truth shall bask in her rosy hues and light the 
 path of suffering and misery. 
 
 Then it will be. well. 
 
 At last the ‘show' was over and the weary woman 
 had left the ring, and the careless audience were dis- 
 cussing her pale looks and despairing glances. But 
 the next act soon took their attention. After all it 
 was nothing to them. 
 
IN THE RING. 
 
 169 
 
 Castelli was about to turn on his wife with an 
 oath, for the hisses had reached him as he rode, 
 and he was annoyed that Leila should have brought 
 such a slight upon her horsemanship. 
 
 But the proprietor of the circus came up to him, 
 with a look of determination upon his face, and 
 said, — 
 
 ‘ Castelli, you must not take your wife into the 
 ring again at present. I cannot permit it. The 
 audience have begun to notice how ill she is, and 
 surely you must know she is not fit to ride.' 
 
 ‘ She is not so ill as all that,' replied Castelli with 
 anger. ‘ It's temper, not illness. It's duced cool 
 to tell me my wife is too ill to perform. I'm the best 
 judge of that, I should guess,' he added with scorn. 
 
 ‘ I don’t mind whether you are capable of judging 
 or not. She cannot appear in the ring here. I for- 
 bid it. You had better take her home and fetch 
 the doctor.' 
 
 With these words he walked off, and Castelli, 
 using a foul oath, took his wife home. But he did 
 not fetch the doctor, neither did he remain by her 
 side to comfort her in her sickness. 
 
 Left alone, she seemed almost stunned by all 
 she had undergone during that terrible day. She 
 seemed hardly capable of thought. But after a 
 great effort she reached her children’s room, and 
 kissed them passionately as they slept. Suddenly 
 some awful truth seemed to strike home to her, and 
 she cried : ' I am dying — dying, and who will care 
 for them when I am gone? His lash has fallen on 
 me — their mother — his wife. Some day it will fall 
 on them. What shall I do with my children ? ’ she 
 cried with pathos. 
 
 Maddened with this thought, she never slept 
 throughout the long night, and the morning found 
 her wearied to the soul. As the day grew her 
 
170 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 trouble seemed to rest upon her until she could 
 hardly bear the slightest word spoken in her 
 presence, and in her despair she moaned, — 
 
 ‘ My children, my children ! How shall I save 
 my children ? I must die and leave them all alone. 
 What will become of them ? What shall I do ? ’ 
 Her restlessness grew worse as the evening ap- 
 proached, and her husband asked her with a sneer, — 
 
 ‘ Are you mad, Leila ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I think so — I think I must be,' she said slowly, 
 a wavering and indecision being apparent in her 
 voice. 
 
 He smiled calmly. 
 
 But she took no heed. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MAD FOR LOVE. 
 
 That night he had left her with an oath upon his 
 lips. 
 
 She could not work now — she was too weary, too 
 ill. 
 
 The tender flower was crushed, shattered, its 
 glory gone for ever. 
 
 She had thrown herself upon the bed, and with 
 closed eyes she lay trying to gain some rest. Her 
 fair hair hung wildly about her shoulders, her arms 
 were thrown behind her head, and through the thin 
 dressing-gown could be seen the slim contour of 
 her limbs. All traces of the plump, fine-grown 
 woman had long since disappeared. 
 
 She looked very fair and fragile as she lay there 
 almost as still as death. 
 
MAD FOR LOVE. 
 
 t;i 
 
 At last, after a restless struggle, she fell asleep, 
 growing more white as the moments sped on, with 
 a look of unutterable pain stealing over her face, as 
 if animated by an undying consciousness of some 
 horrible thought which had reached the inmost 
 recess of the mind. Some terrible scene come to 
 disturb her brain with acute suffering wrung from 
 the fierce despair of the days that were past. 
 
 Sometimes her white and compressed lips moved 
 as if she were speaking, but the murmurings, if any, 
 were too low, too soft to reach the human ear. 
 
 That was well, for perhaps her spirit was roaming 
 in memory’s land, bringing back to her tortured 
 heart the remembrance of happy days, and far-off 
 friends and charms, which died all too soon. 
 
 Suddenly she awoke from her distressful slumber, 
 and with a strange glare, her eyes wandered round 
 the deserted room, resting at length upon a large 
 photograph of her husband. This seemed to in- 
 furiate her, and she sprang up, wildy exclaiming, — 
 
 ‘ ril do it — ril do it to-night — now — I’ve plenty of 
 courage, plenty — it won’t take long — they will just 
 scream a little — but it will soon be over. Let me 
 see,’ she said, ‘ I shall kill Vanda first, she is sure 
 to struggle most — and then the boy. The angel who 
 fetches Vanda must wait for Adrian ; he would be 
 afraid to go without her — the way is so very long, 
 the night so dark. To-day, sin, sorrow, care, and 
 curses,’ she hissed ; ‘ to-morrow, music, light, golden 
 harps, and flowers,’ she cried with exultation. ‘ Til 
 do it now, at once — it must be done before their 
 father comes back — now, now is the time.’ 
 
 With slow and noiseless step she moved to the 
 sideboard and with eager hand drew a knife from 
 the drawer. 
 
 She ran her fingers down the blue blade, making 
 a gash, and letting the blood fall upon her gown. 
 
172 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 For a moment she stood awed and dejected at 
 the sight. 
 
 But her eyes did not lose their glitter — passion 
 still bore the sway. She flung her disordered 
 tresses on one side, marking them as she did so 
 with a crimson stain. 
 
 She hurried to the table, and clutching hold of 
 one of the candlesticks with impetuous haste, she 
 moved to the door, the bright steel of the knife 
 flashing as she went. Beautiful, but terrible in her 
 frenzy, she crept along the ill-lighted passage until 
 she reached the room where her hapless children 
 slept. Putting the light down, she fixed her eyes 
 upon the bed where the little ones lay. Gradually 
 she moved towards them, hiding the glistening 
 knife behind her as she went. 
 
 She saw them resting side by side, with their 
 golden curls all tossed and tumbled in childhood’s 
 dreamless sleep, their white chubby hands showing 
 in relief against the brilliant crimson coverlid, their 
 fingers twitching now and then as if to clasp some 
 much loved treasure. How peaceful they looked ; 
 but she only whispered hoarsely, — 
 
 ‘ It’s best — it’s best it shall be done,’ her des- 
 perate purpose shaking off her fears. ‘ It’s best,’ 
 she almost hissed. She took another gliding foot- 
 step, repeating, ‘ Death is freedom — escape from 
 pain and suffering. I must save them — I will,’ 
 she panted. 
 
 She drew so near that the breath of the sleeping 
 boy was warm upon her hand ; the colour deepened 
 in her cheeks, her breath came rapidly as she drew 
 the knife from the folds of her long trailing gown. 
 She hurriedly put back her sleeve from the once 
 rounded arm — now was the time — the gleaming 
 knife was just ready for its ghastly work. Another 
 moment — another terrible moment and it would be 
 
MAD FOR LOVE. 
 
 173 
 
 besmeared with blood and thick with gore — the 
 dreaded deed, with impetuous haste, complete — the 
 chainless spirits gone — now, now. The knife just 
 touched the little girl. She started, with a cry of 
 terror on her lips. 
 
 ‘Mother, mother! Oh, where is mother?’ she 
 cried, half asleep. 
 
 ^ Here, here,’ Leila whispered hoarsely. ‘ Here, 
 here,’ she muttered frantically, stepping back ap- 
 palled, terrified, awe-struck. The voice of the 
 child had stricken her to the heart, and its thrill 
 recalled reason in some mysterious way — feeling, 
 love, memory had returned. Quivering in every 
 limb, she exclaimed piteously : ‘ Vanda, have 
 I hurt you ? I must have done so, there is 
 blood on my hands — on my dress — on my hair. 
 Vanda, have I killed you?’ she cried out in 
 terrible despair. 
 
 The child did not speak— she had fallen asleep. 
 
 Leila stooped down until her ear was close to 
 the child’s mouth. 
 
 ‘ No, she is not dead. I have not slain her. She 
 breathes — she breathes. The knife is clean — no 
 blood streams from the blade. Thank God ! thank 
 God ! I have not killed my child ; but I’ll go — I dare 
 not stay with them. I might try again,’ she moaned. 
 
 Panting with fear, trembling with emotion, shud- 
 dering with frantic remorse, she fled from the room. 
 For a moment she fancied some evil spirit was behind 
 her, and not until she was once more alone did she 
 realise the terrible sin she had contemplated, and then 
 an awful horror seized her. It seemed as if a cloud 
 had come between her and life, a something which 
 baffled description, something undefined, which 
 darkened the past and made the future oblivion. 
 She was different — she felt it — she knew it. She 
 rose as if to shake the phantom from her, and drive 
 
174 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 away the encircling gloom ; but how strange things 
 seemed — what had happened ? She put her hands 
 to her head and shrieked, — 
 
 ‘ What is it — what is it ? Am I mad, or has the 
 hour of my death come at last?’ she cried, seized 
 with sudden terror. ' IVe tried to do something 
 awful — what can it be She closed her eyes and 
 sat motionless, as if trying to reflect what had swept 
 over her life. Suddenly, like a spell, the wondrous 
 change became apparent to her, and with a cry of 
 agony she shrieked : ‘ Heavens, great heavens, what 
 a crime I designed — invented by the devil, re- 
 strained by God it must have been — to plunge my 
 children into heaven — my little innocent, prattling 
 babies ! My God ! my God ! ’ 
 
 Her head sank ; she was stupefied with dread. 
 Gradually the shadows left her, the hovering be- 
 tween certainty and uncertainty was at an end ; she 
 knew then what she was about to do. 
 
 She must go to the children at once — perhaps she 
 had harmed them — she would make sure of their 
 safety. 
 
 She went back to their room ; a shudder passed 
 over her as she entered. She hurried to the bedside 
 as if fearful of seeing some sign of a terrible deed. 
 But they were sleeping, serene and beautiful. She 
 pressed one long passionate kiss on each soft cheek 
 and murmured, — 
 
 God forgive me for my would-be crime. May 
 He show me mercy at the last.’ 
 
 The anguish expressed in that prayer came from 
 a broken heart. 
 
 Would Heaven deny forgiveness? 
 
 That night when Castelli returned home he 
 found his wife dejected, depressed, and almost too 
 weak to speak. The excitement she had passed 
 through had made a terrible change in her, and he 
 
MAD FOR LOVE. 175 
 
 noticed for the first time, with anxiety, how really 
 ill she looked. 
 
 With more kindness in his voice than usual, he 
 persuaded her to go to bed and rest, and then she 
 was tempted to tell him of the awful frenzy which 
 had come over her. But her courage failed, and 
 so the sad tale was never told. 
 
 That night she sank into a heavy slumber, and 
 a glorious vision came to her. 
 
 Before her stood Tom, with a gladdened and 
 tender look in his eyes. She felt his warm kiss 
 upon her lips. 
 
 ‘ Leila, my sister, dearly beloved Leila,’ he cried 
 in ecstasy, ‘ we have met at last, all of us together. 
 See, the dark cloud has gone, and only the silver 
 lining is left behind.’ 
 
 Then she saw a vapour of filmy silver floating 
 on the air, and gradually it rose into space, leaving 
 in its place a magnificent and dazzling light, in 
 which she saw her father clasping her mother to 
 his heart and wiping away the care and sin from her 
 brow. Each kiss he gave her left behind it a glow 
 of happiness, a rapture, a felicity which comes only 
 from those bright realms where all the streams of 
 joy and gladness have their source. She heard a 
 plaintive voice call, — 
 
 ‘ Give back my children, let me hear them say, 
 “Mother, I forgive you — I forgive you.” Let me 
 kiss them and touch them before I die. Come, come 
 to me, my girl, my boy.’ 
 
 Involuntarily Leila felt herself drawn with Tom 
 towards her forgiving father and the repentant 
 mother and wife. 
 
 As they approached, the light from the silver 
 mist grew more clear, more pure and transparent. 
 The faces of her father and mother became inten- 
 sified in their beauty, glorified with a great glory. 
 
176 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Her father put out his hands and drew them to 
 him, and spoke these words, ‘ Wife, here are our 
 children. Children, here is your mother. God 
 bless you all, now and for ever.' 
 
 A radiant light fell upon them as their father 
 pointed to the mother’s brow, and they saw written 
 there in letters of silvern light the single word — 
 FORGIVEN. 
 
 Leila put out her hands towards her mother as 
 if to cling to her, but a cloud began to dim the 
 glory, and as it deepened she heard a low still voice 
 saying, ‘ Leila, this is heaven — heaven at last.’ 
 Then the light grew less, and there was silence — 
 silence everywhere. Tom and she were left alone. 
 A darkness enveloped them, the air became heavy, 
 a lurid glare appeared in the distance, lighting deep 
 arched caves, dark gloomy waters, and hideous 
 chasms, from which pestilential fumes rose in great 
 heavy clouds. It rested upon a mighty rock upon 
 which stood a man. His garments were in shreds, 
 showing his bones protruding through his shrunken 
 skin ; his face was drawn with fearful agony and 
 distorted into terrible shapes ; from his mouth pro- 
 ceeded yell after yell, curse after curse. Above his 
 head were the branches of a bread-fruit tree, its 
 lobed glossy leaves shining in the hideous glare ; 
 its globular shaped fruit hung like melons from 
 every stem, then changed in a moment into loaves 
 of bread, crisp and fresh, and the man’s great thin 
 fleshless, bony fingers were outstretched to grasp 
 the food. His eyes, shrunken in their sockets, 
 watched with maddening gaze the loaves coming 
 and going. Sometimes the boughs bent so low 
 that he could just touch them, then suddenly they 
 were raised far beyond his reach. Then he would 
 scream, ‘ Bread, bread ! oh, give me bread ! I’m a 
 hungered — a hungered. Will no one help me to lull 
 
MAD FOR LOVE. 
 
 177 
 
 this fearful craving for bread ? Give me but one 
 morsel, one taste. I am famished — famished,’ he 
 groaned. 
 
 As he cried out the trunk of the tree burst in 
 twain, and before him came a fearful picture, all 
 painted in blood. He saw a dying woman plead- 
 ing to a handsome man for bread — a cast-off love 
 supplicating for the tempter’s gold to save her 
 from hunger and death. Then came a terrible 
 voice from the picture, saying, — 
 
 ‘There’s the workhouse for such as you. The 
 parish will give you bread.’ 
 
 The picture faded. 
 
 There was nothing to be seen or heard but the 
 wail of the lost soul trying to reach the bread which 
 he in his lifetime had refused to others. He knelt 
 at the foot of the tree, gaunt, famished, despairing, 
 rocking himself to and fro in his agony and wrath. 
 But it availed him nothing. 
 
 Suddenly, hovering over the tree, was an angel 
 form with wings of azure tint, and a low, sweet 
 voice fell upon the crouching, miserable sinner, say- 
 ing in accents fraught with sorrow, — 
 
 ‘ I am from the God of love. You have stolen 
 from Him women’s hearts. You have sullied His 
 throne with sins too foul, too cursed to bear. You 
 have darkened homes. You have ruined the be- 
 loved ones of the earth, the pride of mothers, the 
 darlings of many a home, and now comes your 
 punishment — the retribution of vice.’ 
 
 ‘ I see her, I see her,’ cried the man. ‘Take her 
 away. I see her face in every loaf of bread above 
 me — above me,’ he gasped. 
 
 ‘ That can never be,’ replied the voice. ‘ The face 
 of that woman shall be before you, to horrify you 
 for ever and for ever, and the bread you refused her 
 in her need shall be within your grasp to torment 
 
 M 
 
178 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 you in your terrible hunger, but you shall not taste 
 of it. So for all eternity.’ 
 
 Groans, yells, hideous screams rent the darkness, 
 and then Leila awoke. Too amazed to move or 
 speak, she lay wondering at her dream. She had 
 seen Tom, and the unity of the family completed. 
 She had seen swift justice fall with torturing hand 
 on Herbert Clifford, and that gave her comfort. 
 
 Was it, after all, only a fanciful, fantastic vision, 
 devoid of reality and truth, just the freak of a 
 sleeping brain ? 
 
 Who shall dare to say ‘ Yes ’ ? 
 
 Rather, was it not the mystery of the drawing 
 together of kindred souls, of some great magnetic 
 force which bids space defiance and comes to forge 
 the link that death has snapped ? 
 
 That night Tom in his Transvaal home dreamt 
 of Leila. He kissed her many times. 
 
 That night her father dreamt his dead wife was 
 home again, forgiven. 
 
 That night Herbert Clifford had gone to his last 
 home. The day of grace was over. 
 
 Dreams, only dreams, laughs the sceptic. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 
 
 She was weaker. 
 
 The end was at hand. 
 
 What is that mystic knowledge which comes to 
 the human mind at the time when the sands of life 
 are fast running out ? that profound secret which 
 is far removed from earthly comprehension, and 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 
 
 179 
 
 which makes itself known to the sufferers alone> 
 warning them that the days of their pilgrimage 
 are nearly spent? 
 
 Concealed from view, hidden from reason, no 
 man has yet found from whence it has its birth. 
 It comes, bringing certainty in its train, a notice 
 which all must heed. 
 
 But why it comes, and from what source it has its 
 being, is a mystery unfathomed to-day and for ever. 
 
 Leila had felt this strange forerunner of death 
 hanging over her, and with it came the stronger 
 love for earthly ties, the wish to see once more those 
 near and dear to her. A longing for her father grew 
 into a passion. She must see him again before she 
 died, and she determined to make one last effort 
 to satisfy her craving. She wrote him a few lines — 
 the words in places were indistinct, and the letters 
 quavering — telling a sad tale of a weak hand unfit 
 to guide the pen. 
 
 When her father received the little missive he 
 was overcome with grief, and he set off at once to 
 see her. 
 
 The years had gone past slowly, making him 
 feel very solitary in his old age. As he sat alone 
 in the long evenings, smoking, he would think he 
 had been too harsh with his sinful wife, too exacting 
 with his girl, too ready to part with his young son, 
 more anxious to pass censure as a judge than to 
 be the fond father, the forgiving husband. 
 
 Then he would sigh, and murmur, ‘ Too late, too 
 late. My day is nearly over.’ 
 
 Whilst he was hastening to her side, Leila had 
 become so much worse that Castelli had hurriedly 
 sent for the nearest doctor. He came, and looked 
 very grave as he sat by his patient. There was no 
 need to ask her questions. All hope was gone. He 
 could see that by the quick, laboured breathing, the 
 
i8o 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 hectic flush, and the awful prostration which over- 
 takes the sufferer before the last. 
 
 Castelli throughout had watched his face intently, 
 as if to read his opinion, and directly they were 
 alone he asked anxiously, — 
 
 ‘ Is she very ill ? I should like to know exactly 
 what is the matter, and what is the remedy.' 
 
 He spoke nervously, as if he were ill at ease. 
 
 ‘ There is no remedy,' replied the doctor gravely. 
 ‘ She is dying — consumption of long standing. I 
 fear the disease has been coming on slowly but too 
 surely for a long time. All human aid is useless. 
 I can do nothing for her.' 
 
 ' Dying,' gasped Castelli, too shocked at last to 
 believe the doctor's words. 
 
 ‘Yes, dying,' replied the doctor. ‘ I am afraid it 
 is a case of hours now. She is sinking fast. I will 
 call again this evening, but I cannot give you the 
 slightest hope.' 
 
 He picked up his hat and took his leave, and 
 Castelli was left alone to bear the shock as best he 
 could. The blow had fallen, he could not restore 
 her if he would. 
 
 He was smitten. He cursed himself for his folly, 
 for his neglect and cruelty ; but that could not stay 
 the hand of death. 
 
 ‘ Good God ! what have I done ? ' he groaned. 
 ‘ I have killed her, fool that I am.' 
 
 He recalled all the miseries she had undergone, 
 and the terrible day when he had struck her. The 
 thought of that deed maddened him almost to 
 frenzy. His mental pain was agonising, and his 
 remorse terrible. 
 
 When he became calmer he went to her, and 
 going up to the bedside, he said with great effort, — 
 
 ‘ Leila, my darling Leila, will you kiss me once 
 again ? ’ 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 
 
 l8l 
 
 She looked at him. Such a happy smile lit up 
 her face — one of the old winsome smiles which he 
 had loved so well. 
 
 She put out her thin hands and drew his face to 
 hers and kissed him many times. 
 
 ' Emilio/ she cried, ' Emilio, you love me now 
 as you did in the dear old days at Sandcliffe. I 
 was so happy then, and now the joy has come again. 
 I am so very, very glad. Dying won’t be so hard 
 now that you love me again.’ 
 
 'Don’t talk of dying, Leila. You must get better, 
 and keep me company. I cannot spare you yet. 
 I love you with all my heart. Leila, my Leila, I 
 have been a brute to you — a vile brute. Can you 
 forgive me for all my cruelty, all the — ’ But he 
 could say no more, his emotion almost choked 
 him. 
 
 'Yes/ she said sadly, 'I can forgive you all, 
 because you are so kind now — that has made up 
 for the past. Once it was hard to bear — but now, 
 what peace. Love at the beginning — love at the 
 last — what can make me happier ? ’ 
 
 ' I could have made your life happier/ sobbed 
 Castelli. ' Oh, Leila, Leila, you must not die — 
 only live, and you shall never ride again, never. 
 I will care for you for ever.’ 
 
 Years ago he had promised to care for her ' for 
 ever.’ 
 
 He forgot that promise. The day was far spent, 
 the night was at hand, promises could avail her 
 nothing. 
 
 'Would you, Emilio?’ she asked feebly. 
 
 He could not speak, and so she continued, — 
 
 ‘ That can never be, Emilio. My hours are 
 numbered — you can do nothing but love me for 
 a little while as you used to do. Will you?’ she 
 pleaded, looking up at him gently. 
 
i 82 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘Leila, Leila, don't talk like thaLVcried the 
 strong man in his distress. ‘ I do low you, Leila; 
 believe I do,' and he kissed her passionately. 
 
 She rested a few moments before she spoke 
 again. Her breath was short, and talking was 
 becoming more and more an effort. 
 
 ‘ Emilio, I want to tell you something. You 
 won't be angry, will you?' she asked in her old 
 tone of timidity, ‘ but I have written to ask my 
 father to come and see me. I don’t expect he will 
 come,' she added mournfully, ‘ but I should like to 
 wish him a last good-bye. Will you be kind to 
 him for my sake ? It is the last favour I shall ever 
 ask you,' she pleaded. 
 
 ‘ I hope he may come, my darling. Don't be 
 afraid ; I will meet him civilly. I will do anything 
 you ask me,' he added mournfully. 
 
 He sat by her side holding one little parched 
 hand in his, raising it now and again to impress 
 a kiss upon it. 
 
 She lay watching him, too weak to say much 
 more, but radiant in mind — the early love had 
 returned, he smiled upon her as in the old days, 
 and in her joy she forgot all she had endured. The 
 present was with her — the past dead. 
 
 Kind words were to soothe her path to the grave. 
 His love was to illumine the dark valley and cheer 
 her path to the Strange Land. 
 
 How thankful she felt. 
 
 That afternoon she slept peacefully, happy once 
 more in her husband's love. Her breathing became 
 placid, and Castelli, as he crept into the apartment 
 from time to time, began to hope she might yet 
 recover. 
 
 Alas ! how soon Hope rises in the human breast. 
 
 Whilst she was resting, an old man with snowy 
 hair and beard was shown into the sitting-room. 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 1 83 
 
 where Castelli was bemoaning a fate which was 
 about to rob him of his wife. 
 
 There was no need to ask the stranger’s name or 
 to express surprise at his appearance, for Castelli 
 knew it was Leila’s father come at last. He rose 
 and put out his hand to give the old gentleman 
 a welcome, and said quietly, — 
 
 ‘ You have come to see your daughter ? She will 
 be delighted ; at present she is asleep. You had 
 better rest here, and have some refreshment ; you 
 shall go to her directly she awakes.’ 
 
 Mr Gurney looked at the speaker as if astonished 
 at his courtesy. He had expected to meet a vulgar, 
 ill-bred man, dressed in black, with a heavy gold 
 chain, and diamonds in his white shirt front and in 
 his sleeve links, with his hat on one side, and gener- 
 ally low and depraved. 
 
 He forgot the members of a large circus are not 
 showmen at a penny gaff. For a moment he did 
 not reply ; he felt a little rest*raint come over him 
 before his outspoken host, the husband of his child. 
 
 At last he said with an effort, — 
 
 ‘ Well, I suppose you are my son-in-law. I am 
 glad we have met, sir.’ 
 
 Castelli bowed graciously, and then a very awk- 
 ward pause came in the conversation. The men 
 looked at each other in silence, and then Castelli 
 said, — 
 
 ‘ As you will not take any refreshment I will go 
 and see if Leila is awake. I must break the news 
 of your visit very gently or it might endanger her 
 life.’ 
 
 Castelli had been inwardly planning how he 
 should tell the aged father of his daughter’s serious 
 illness. 
 
 ‘ Is she so ill as that?’ asked Mr Gurney, raising 
 as he spoke a haggard, anxious face to Castelli. 
 
184 SLAVES OF THE SAWHtJST. 
 
 ‘ I knew she was ill by her sad letter, but I did not 
 expect to find matters so grave. Is she dying? 
 Tell me the truth,’ and his voice trembled painfully. 
 
 ‘ She is very ill,’ said Castelli sadly ; ‘ it is best for 
 you to be prepared for that’ 
 
 The old man moaned. 
 
 ‘ I’ve only found her to lose her again. It’s 
 good-bye, is it — another good-bye ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I hope not,’ said Castelli. But his voice did not 
 fall very hopefully on the eager ears strained to 
 catch the slightest gleam of promising news from 
 his lips. 
 
 ‘ God’s will be done,’ responded the old man with 
 reverence ; ‘ but it’s very hard to see her die. My 
 punishment is greater than I can bear.’ 
 
 Castelli winced. Was he not punished too, was 
 not his penalty far greater? 
 
 The father never dreamt of cruelty and neglect, 
 and the husband was silent. 
 
 Had they not both sinned grievously towards 
 her? 
 
 They knew it. 
 
 ‘ She is awake — will you see her ? ’ asked Castelli, 
 returning. 
 
 Trembling with anxiety, and filled with silent 
 dread, Gurney entered the room where his daughter 
 lay breathing out her life. 
 
 ' Father, dear father,’ cried the agitated voice, 
 
 ‘ dear, dear father, you have come to see me.’ 
 
 But he did not reply. He stood speechless. 
 The shock of seeing his daughter brought back the 
 bitter remembrance of other days in the years which 
 had passed. Since they had met, Leila had become 
 a living image of her beautiful mother, and he re- 
 called the day when his bride had come home in 
 all her fresh young beauty. It seemed as if he 
 could hardly bear to take his eyes from her face. 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 1 85 
 
 Castelli withdrew, leaving father and daughter 
 together. 
 
 ‘ Leila, my daughter,' cried the old man in a 
 shaky voice, ' Leila.' 
 
 He locked her to his breast, and for a few 
 minutes the silence was only broken by their 
 sobs, then Leila spoke. 
 
 ‘ Father, tell me you have forgiven me. Tell me 
 that before I die.' 
 
 In the excitement of the moment he had not 
 noticed how ill she looked, and it suddenly struck 
 him like a blow might have done. 
 
 ' My girl, my girl, to find you like this. I have 
 come to see you die.' 
 
 A heavy sob prevented him from saying more 
 just then, but Leila said hastily, — 
 
 ‘ Don't fret, father, for me, but tell me do you 
 forgive me ? ' 
 
 forgive you, Leila. It is for you to forgive me. 
 I forgot my duty as a father, and left you, too, alone 
 when I should have been your guide, your com- 
 forter. I see it all now, Leila, when it is too late.' 
 
 ‘ Don’t say that, father dear. I treated you very 
 badly. I was not a good daughter to marry without 
 consulting you, but love blinded me to all that.' 
 
 ‘ And you have been happy, he has been good 
 to you, tell me that, my girlie,' said her father 
 soothingly. 
 
 A flush had overspread her face as he spoke. 
 How should she answer that question ? She must 
 save her husband’s name, none must know what 
 she had gone through, and she replied evasively, — 
 
 ‘ Don't you think he is good and kind ? There 
 is nothing he would not buy me, nothing he would 
 not get if it would relieve me from pain and 
 suffering.' 
 
 The old man was satisfied. He did not know that 
 
1 86 SLAVES OF THE SAWTJUStT^ 
 
 such kindness had only been shown to Leila just 
 when all hope of saving her had to be abandoned, 
 and that dark years had been lived through without 
 a murmur. 
 
 ‘ Father, bring a chair and sit by my side, and let 
 me hold your hand in mine. Dear old daddie, I 
 wish I had loved you more,' she said with deep 
 regret in her voice. 
 
 He did as she desired, and then they talked over 
 the past, Leila giving him all the pleasant descrip- 
 tions of her travels and the places she had visited, 
 but most carefully avoiding any reference to her 
 mother, until at length she was startled by her father 
 exclaiming, — 
 
 ‘You saw your mother before she died — your 
 husband thinks you were never well after that. 
 Leila, where did she die ? ' 
 
 The hectic spots on her cheeks deepened as she 
 answered in a low voice, — 
 
 ‘ In the house of Herbert Clifford.' 
 
 He turned white, a look of mute agony stole over 
 his face, and then he said, — 
 
 ‘ She died there, did she ? Fd rather she had died 
 in the street — if only she had been repentant,' he 
 added sadly. ‘ It is terrible to think she died in the 
 house of her seducer — terrible to me.' 
 
 ‘ You are mistaken, father dear ; she went to see 
 him but one hour before she died — she went to ask 
 for a home, for bread, which he refused. She did not 
 sin in that. Your letter came the day she died. 
 Thank God she never lived to see it.' 
 
 He moaned two or three times as he listened to 
 all the harrowing details which Leila felt it her 
 duty to tell him. When she had finished speaking 
 the excitement had exhausted her considerably, 
 and when her husband and the doctor entered the 
 room a few moments later she was lying with closed 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 1 87 
 
 eyes and fighting for breath, her father watching 
 her as one too dazed to move. 
 
 ‘ Who has been talking to the patient and doing 
 this mischief? She is much worse,’ said the doctor 
 angrily. 
 
 ‘I have,’ said Mr Gurney; 4’m her father, and 
 there has been lots to say to her, and the time will, 
 I fear, be short. Surely my place is here ? ’ 
 
 ' I must request you to step into the other room 
 at once,’ said the doctor severely, ‘ and you must 
 not see her again to-day. W\W you see she is kept 
 quiet?’ he asked, turning to Castelli. 
 
 ‘Yes, I will watch her,’ and then he led the old 
 broken-hearted father from her room. 
 
 As the day faded and the night grew Leila be- 
 came restless, and at times her mind wandered, 
 and Castelli hardly left her for a moment 
 
 It was late the next day before the doctor gave 
 permission for Mr Gurney to see his daughter, and 
 then he strictly forbade him to worry her with 
 questions, and on no account to excite her. 
 
 ‘ It is cruel to add to her sufferings,’ he said ; ‘ let 
 her have all the peace we can give her.’ 
 
 And so her father crept into her room softly, but 
 not too softly to escape his daughter’s ear. She 
 was weaker, and her eyes were closed^ but she 
 opened them directly he entered. 
 
 ‘ Father,’ cried the feeble voice, ‘ come here.’ 
 
 He went up to her, and then she said, — 
 
 ‘ Do you think Tom has forgiven me? He has 
 never written since I married. Do you think he 
 loves me still ? Has he ever said anything about 
 me in his letters to you ? 
 
 She was too weary to say more. 
 
 ‘ I must tell you the truth,’ replied the aged man, 
 tears running down his furrowed cheeks. ‘Tom 
 wrote to you a great many times ; I don’t think 
 
l88 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 a mail passed without bringing a letter for you. 
 When you never replied, he asked me if I had sent 
 them on. In my anger, in my wish for revenge, 
 I said I had done so. I wanted Tom to think 
 badly of you. After that no more letters came 
 for you. I had my way, but the secret of that 
 sin has lain on my soul until at times I felt I 
 must write and tell him the truth. My child ! my 
 child ! ' 
 
 A terrible look of despair and grief had come 
 over Leila’s face as her father made his confession, 
 but she only said quietly, — 
 
 ‘ Will you write, father, and tell him I never had 
 his letters ? And tell him — tell him — I am a wife 
 — that I have not sinned — that I was married in 
 the church. My husband has my lines in a desk. 
 Ask him to let you see them, and then tell Tom, 
 with my last love, that I have never disgraced him. 
 Promise me, father, you will do this for me — 
 promise,’ she added faintly. 
 
 ‘ It shall be done at once,’ replied her father, 
 deeply moved. ‘ I will tell him the truth — the sin 
 is mine.’ 
 
 ‘ No ; wait just a little while,’ she pleaded. ‘ Wait 
 until the end, and then write and tell him that 
 I died happily, believing in his love.’ 
 
 He could not reply. 
 
 That afternoon a change came over her. She 
 grew much weaker, and she felt her death was fast 
 approaching, so she called her husband and father 
 to her bedside and said gently, — 
 
 ‘ Sit down close to me, quite close, or I shall not 
 be able to make you hear, and I have a few last 
 wishes to tell you both. My hours are numbered, 
 and the welfare of my children ’ — she paused for 
 breath — 'is very near my heart. Emilio, dear 
 Emilio, will you promise me one thing — -only one ? ’ 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. 189 
 
 She waited for his reply. 
 
 ‘ I will promise you anything, Leila, my darling. 
 What is it ? ’ he asked sadly. 
 
 ‘Promise me that neither Vanda nor Adrian 
 shall be apprenticed to your profession — that they 
 shall never become acrobats or riders. I could 
 not rest in my grave if I thought they were likely 
 to fall into cruel hands — like — like — that man 
 Horrox. Promise, do promise, Emilio,' she added 
 plaintively. ‘ Promise before I die.’ 
 
 Castelli stood holding her hand. He stooped 
 and kissed her, and said slowly and gravely, — 
 
 ‘ My darling, I promise.' 
 
 ‘ Thank you, oh, thank you ! ' she murmured 
 gratefully. ‘ I have been thinking that perhaps 
 you would let father have them when you are on 
 tour. The journeys are so long and tiring for little 
 children, they would be best at home. May he 
 have them, Emilio?' 
 
 ‘ Yes, Leila, yes, your father shall have them the 
 times I am travelling on the Continent, but when 
 I am at home I should like them with me. Will 
 that satisfy you, my darling? ' 
 
 ‘Yes, if father is agreeable.' 
 
 ‘ That will suit me,' said the old man rapidly. 
 ‘ Don’t fret, my girl ; the little ones shall be looked 
 after. I won’t forget them, trust me for that.' 
 
 ‘ They have plenty of clothes,’ continued Leila 
 feebly, ‘ and everything is in order. When they 
 want more, I think Ringens's wife would get them. 
 She has little ones of her own ; but you will see 
 what is best, Emilio. Come to me, both of you 
 together, and take my hands in yours, and kiss 
 me, and say once more that you will care for my 
 children — our children,’ and she looked lovingly at 
 her husband. ‘ Promise — promise.’ 
 
 ‘ We do,' said both the men together. 
 
1 90 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘Now I shall die in peace/ she murmured, a 
 lovely light coming over her face — ‘ at peace, for 
 they are safe. I should like to sleep now. I am 
 very tired — so tired,' she said sadly. ‘ So — tired,' 
 she repeated. 
 
 They sat down, one on each side of the bed, and 
 watched her as she slept. 
 
 She had been resting for some hours in a trance- 
 like sleep. Suddenly she awoke, and turning to 
 Castelli, she said faintly, — 
 
 ‘ Fetch the children. I must wish them good- 
 bye. I am dying/ she gasped. 
 
 ‘ Take this first, my pet/ and he held a cup of 
 beef-tea and brandy to her lips. She sipped it, 
 and then said eagerly, — 
 
 ‘ Fetch the children before it is too late — and, 
 father, will you leave me with them ? ' 
 
 Both men hurried to do her bidding, and Castelli 
 led the children into the room and placed them on 
 the bed. 
 
 Vanda gazed with large wondering eyes at her 
 mother, and a terrible fear came over the childish 
 heart, but Adrian began to cry. The darkened, 
 silent room, the white pinched face before him, 
 the awful stillness frightened the tiny child, and 
 he shrank from the loving arms put out to take 
 him. 
 
 His cry awoke the greatest anguish in the 
 mother's heart, for he had been her darling. 
 
 ‘ Adrian, don’t you know it's mother ? Kiss me, 
 my own pet.' 
 
 The charmed voice acted like a spell. His fears 
 dispelled. The child fondled up to her, and in 
 another moment his chubby arms were round her 
 neck. She kissed him frantically. It seemed as if 
 she could never stay raining her love upon him. 
 Her husband stood by the door watching the sad 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. I9I 
 
 scene. Cold and severe as he was it touched him 
 to the heart. 
 
 ' Good-bye, Adrian — good-bye, my boy. Kiss 
 me again — again — once more.’ 
 
 ‘Are you going away without me, mother?’ 
 pleaded the little voice. ‘ Do take me with you.’ 
 
 ‘I cannot. I would if I could,’ she panted. ‘Oh, 
 my child, my child ! ’ 
 
 Castelli saw the effort was getting too much for 
 the dying woman, and he took the child gently 
 from her. 
 
 Adrian uttered a sharp cry of anguish as his 
 father lifted him from the bed. 
 
 ‘ Take him, Emilio. He is yours now, for I must 
 die.’ 
 
 ‘Mother, mother, I want mother,’ wailed the little 
 one. ‘ I will have my mother,’ he sobbed, and he 
 put out his arms towards her. 
 
 She uttered one faint moan, and Castelli, over- 
 come with grief, hurried away, leaving Vanda alone 
 with her mother. He could not bear another part- 
 ing scene. He would comfort the boy and the aged 
 father. 
 
 ‘Vanda,’ said the weak voice, ‘mother is going 
 away from you. Will you promise to be a good 
 girl and do all father and grandfather tell you ? ’ 
 
 The child’s voice was choked with sobs. All 
 through her mother’s farewell to her brother she 
 had sat as if stupefied, hardly understanding at first, 
 but she knew now that it was good-bye to her too. 
 
 Poor little child ! 
 
 Leila continued : ‘ Will you take great care of 
 my Adrian? Will you always love him, darling, 
 because mother wants you to do that? You are 
 nearly seven years old, Vanda — quite a little woman 
 — so you must promise me to help Adrian all you 
 can, and never be unkind to him.’ She paused, 
 
192 SLAVES OF tIiE SAWDUST. 
 
 her words became more weak, her strength was 
 fast failing. 
 
 The child cried passionately. 
 
 ' Don’t fret, my girlie, but promise to do what 
 mother asks you,’ and Leila tried to draw the 
 trembling, sobbing child closer to her. 
 
 ‘ I will, mammy dear. I will always love Adrian 
 best. I will kiss him like you do, and he shall have 
 all my toys,’ said the child sadly. 
 
 A wan smile passed over Leila’s face, and she 
 stroked the child’s golden curls lovingly and 
 said, — 
 
 ‘ That’s a dear good child. Remember, you are 
 to be his little mother. Never forget your last 
 promise to me, Vanda darling — come closer and 
 kiss me.’ 
 
 The child laid her little soft cheeks against her 
 mother’s moistening face and kissed her many times. 
 
 ‘ Good-bye, darling, good-bye. Be a mother to 
 my boy, and don’t for — ’ She paused, her head 
 fell on the pillow. She moaned once or twice, and 
 then the child, frightened, scrambled off the bed 
 calling as she went, — 
 
 ‘ Mother is dead ! Mother is dead ! Oh, do 
 come ! ’ 
 
 Castelli had heard his child’s cry of fear, and he 
 rushed to the room, followed by the trembling 
 father, and then Vanda took Adrian on her lap, 
 and they both crouched down in the corner of the 
 sitting-room and sobbed together. 
 
 They had loved her very, very dearly. 
 
 She was not dead — she had fainted. The last 
 sad farewells to her beloved children had overcome 
 her. The pain had been so acute that it had almost 
 sapped her life. 
 
 Her father and her sorrowing husband stood 
 watching the prostrate form. They both knew the 
 
THE GOLDEN CORD IS BROKEN. T93 
 
 end was at hand — the presence of death was 
 making itself felt. 
 
 They bathed her forehead and raised her gently 
 to ease the struggling breath, and Castelli put his 
 strong arms around her. Her head fell heavily 
 upon his shoulder. She opened her eyes and srriiled 
 upon them and murmured, — 
 
 ‘Good-bye, father; give — Tom — my — message,' 
 and then she looked up at her husband and spoke. 
 He had to stoop down to hear her last words, for 
 they were too feeble now to be caught readily. ' 
 
 ‘ Emilio, tell me once more you love me — tell me — ' 
 
 Her voice grew silent. Her breath came faintly. 
 She never heard his passionate reply. 
 
 It was too late. 
 
 There was a rustling as of silvern wings, a rush 
 as of angels’ feet. 
 
 Neither heard nor seen — ^^yet present. 
 
 The breath of Deity was there, showing a golden 
 path from earth to heaven, and an angel stood on 
 either side. 
 
 But human eyes were blind ; they could not see the 
 radiance — the glory was not for them. Peace shed 
 forth its hallowing light, and rested on her alone. 
 
 She was dead. 
 
 A groan of despair and remorse from the strong 
 men — husband and father — violent sobs from the 
 old man were the only sounds which broke the 
 silence in the chamber of death. 
 
 Then they went to her children. 
 
 A few hours later white roses were strewn over 
 the still, cold form. 
 
 Had she not loved them in those days at Sand- 
 cliffe? Had she not given them to him as a token 
 of her love long ago ? 
 
 He would give her his last love gift, and that 
 should be roses — white roses. 
 
 N 
 
194 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 / 
 
 CHAPTER XVII L 
 
 SHADOWS AND DUST, 
 
 She had been dead two days. 
 
 There was a terrible blank in the home. 
 
 Her father had left the house and taken rooms 
 in the town, where he intended to remain until 
 after the funeral. Castelli had begged him to stay 
 at his lodgings, but he could not rest in the same 
 place with his dead daughter. He begged, however, 
 for the children to keep him company. 
 
 ‘ I shall be so lonely now she is gone,’ he said sadly. 
 
 ' You can take Vanda, but I must keep my boy 
 with me. He was her pet ; I cannot part with him 
 even for a few days.’ 
 
 So Vanda went with her grandfather, and the 
 landlady good-naturedly promised ‘ to see after the 
 little dear’; and his days were less long and dreary 
 because the child was with him. He heard from 
 her lips how good ‘ mother had been,’ how she 
 had taught them to pray every night and morn- 
 ing, and to bless grandfather and grandmother and 
 Uncle Tom. 
 
 The evening before the funeral he sat nursing 
 her. To him it was a great pleasure to watch her, 
 she was so like her dead mother. Even her voice 
 brought back to him his irreparable loss, and he 
 loved to hear her talk of his daughter, and as 
 he fondled her he said, — 
 
 ‘ Tell grandfather something more about mother.’ 
 
 The child looked up at his face and replied, — 
 
 ‘ You didn’t love mother much, did you ? because 
 once she did say, ‘‘Vanda, I wish grandpapa would 
 come and see us, but he does not love us well 
 enough.” Don’t you, grandad ? ’ 
 
SHADOWS AND DUST. I95 
 
 Oh, what remorse her words brought to his 
 anguished heart ! 
 
 ‘Of course I love you, Vanda darling,’ he added 
 sorrowfully. 
 
 ‘ Then why didn’t you come and see mammy 
 when she was in trouble and so sick?’ the child 
 persisted. 
 
 ‘ She had no trouble, darling. She told me so. 
 Father was good and kind to mother, and I am 
 sure he is to you.’ 
 
 ‘ Father wasn’t,’ replied the child. ‘ He used to 
 make mammy cry often, and he beats me and 
 Adrian, and once, when grandma was dying, 
 mammy asked father for money to buy her bread, 
 then he used wicked words and mother did cry. 
 They forgot I was in the room.’ 
 
 Charles Gurney was horrified. His eyes were 
 opened to the true character of the man whom his 
 daughter had wedded. She had not been so happy 
 after all, but the truth lay hidden in the shroud, and 
 it could never be unfolded ; but to test the child’s 
 words he said gravely, — 
 
 ‘ Little girls must always tell the truth. I don’t 
 think mother cried much, did she ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I have told the truth. Mammy did cry very 
 very often, and once, just before she was ill, I was 
 in the room when mammy told daddie she could 
 not ride ’cause she was so tired, and daddie did^ did 
 say he would give her another beating if she did 
 not — and I know he beat her hard once, ’cause I saw 
 the marks when she took her habit off — and mammy 
 did go and ride, and when she came home she went 
 to bed, and the next day the doctor came, and he 
 said, “ Now, little girl, will you be nurse?” and I 
 said, “My name isn’t little girl, it’s Vanda”; and 
 now mammy is dead. How long will she be gone? 
 When shall I see her again ? ’ 
 
196 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ Some day, Vanda, if you grow up good enough,’ 
 replied the old man sadly. 
 
 ‘ But daddie won’t see her again, will he ? ’ she 
 asked with joy, ‘ ’cause mother said she should be 
 glad to die if it wasn’t for us, then daddie couldn’t 
 go on at her. I suppose she is too far off now to 
 hear him even if he shouts, isn’t she, grandad ? ’ 
 
 ‘ She is in heaven,’ he replied gravely, ‘ where 
 there is no work, no sorrow, no tears — all happi- 
 ness, Vanda.’ 
 
 ‘ No circuses ? ’ asked the child. 
 
 ‘ No, Vanda. God is there, and all the angels.’ 
 
 ‘ Is mother an angel ? ’ said the little child with 
 curiosity. 
 
 ‘ Yes, darling.’ 
 
 The child pondered for a moment, and then she 
 asked, — 
 
 ‘ And has she wings like a robin, and can she 
 sing and fly about?’ 
 
 ‘ No one can tell you that, Vanda ; but if you are 
 a good girl you will go and see some day.’ 
 
 ‘And Adrian too?’ said the child, not forgetting 
 her promise. ‘ I couldn’t leave him behind.’ 
 
 ‘ Then you must teach him to be good.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, mammy told me that. How do you make 
 a boy good ? By giving him sweets and things ? ’ 
 asked Vanda innocently. 
 
 ‘ By being good yourself. Whatever you do he 
 will do, and if you vex your daddie then Adrian will 
 do the same.’ 
 
 The child grew grave, and then she said, — 
 
 ‘But daddie isn’t good. Mammy used to say 
 hush, hush when he would say naughty words, and 
 once when she said that he told her to be damned.’ 
 ‘Be quiet, Vanda,’ said the old man, terribly 
 vexed and horrified. ‘ What would mother say if 
 she could hear you ? ’ 
 
SHADOWS AND DUST. 
 
 197 
 
 ‘ But she can’t/ replied the child quickly/ because 
 she has gone away; but I won’t say it again — no, I 
 really wont/ she sobbed, as if the sudden recollec- 
 tion of her mother’s death was too much for the 
 tender heart to bear. 
 
 He kissed the child gently, and something like 
 tears rose in his eyes. 
 
 He knew now the sad truth which Leila had 
 hidden so skilfully, and his mind was full of con- 
 tempt and loathing for the man who called himself 
 husband, the man who had led him to believe that 
 his daughter’s life had been one of happiness and 
 mutual affection. 
 
 At first he was strongly tempted to go straight 
 to Castelli and charge him with cruelty and neglect, 
 and learn if he could whether there was any truth 
 in the childish statements. 
 
 Had they come from older lips he would have 
 doubted the accuracy. 
 
 But little children are all truth until the world 
 teaches them the ready lie, and then the petals of 
 the lily are injured — then ruined for ever. 
 
 He felt sure Vanda had spoken the truth, yet he 
 decided to be silent. He was convinced that Leila 
 would have confided her sad secret to him had 
 she wished him to be aware of the misery of her 
 married life. 
 
 But she had whispered no such words. 
 
 Neither would he. 
 
 So impressed was he with the child’s story that 
 he mentally resolved to keep the little ones with 
 him as much as possible, and to save them from all 
 unneccesary pain and trouble. At the same time 
 he was determined to avoid Castelli, and in future 
 to be polite and nothing more. 
 
 He was sick at heart. 
 
 The last sad rite was over. The circus rider was 
 
198 
 
 • SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 left alone in a silent grave in a great bare cemetery, 
 one amongst thousands. The earth had fallen with 
 a thud upon the coffin, crushing the white roses 
 which lay upon the top, and then the mourners 
 turned away and went back to the desolate home. 
 
 In the country the autumn day had been glorious. 
 The voice of the ring-dove had broken the stillness 
 of the woods with its gentle 'coo coo.’ The fields 
 were waving heavily with coming corn, amongst 
 which the poppies grew apace. Along the hedges 
 the berries were crimsoning, and the lanes were 
 strewn with fallen leaves, all ruddy and brown they 
 lay, and the robins warbled forth the first carol of the 
 winter. 
 
 Nature was so happy. 
 
 But in the town there was only the heat and dust, 
 the rattle of traffic, the endless passing to and fro 
 of pedestrians, the ceaseless flow of life. 
 
 The pulse of the great town never grew faint. 
 And Leila lay dead amongst the living. 
 
 When all was over, Charles Gurney bade farewell 
 to Castelli, asking if he might return for the children 
 in a month. 
 
 To this their father consented. He had no wish 
 to take them with him to Vienna ; besides, his 
 promises to his dead wife were as fresh as the sods 
 upon her grave. They should go to their grand- 
 father, and this being amicably settled, Mr Gurney 
 prepared to return to his home. There was much to 
 do before the arrival of the little folks in his country 
 cottage, and he must see his solicitor and alter his 
 will in favour of the motherless children. 
 
 But first of all there was a letter to be written to 
 Tom, that must be done. 
 
 He was full of new desires, and the sooner he 
 began to put them into practice the happier he 
 would feel. 
 
SHADOWS AND DUST. 
 
 199 
 
 Alas for earthly hopes ! 
 
 Destiny, which overtakes all, stepped in, and 
 brought with it inevitable doom, which must come 
 sooner or later to end the lives of all mankind. 
 
 Does not Clotho for ever wield the distaff, and 
 Atropos spin the threads of man’s life, and Lachesis 
 divide it just when least expected and apparently 
 most needed ? 
 
 These three deities hold the world, and man 
 must die when they will — mercy there is none. 
 So say some. 
 
 They had destined that Charles Gurney should die. 
 
 Travelling from Liverpool to London, an accident 
 occurred to the train ; it ran into another which was 
 at a standstill. Luckily for the other passengers 
 the train was proceeding at slow speed or the 
 results would have been disastrous. As it was, 
 Charles Gurney was travelling in a third-class car- 
 riage, close to the engine, thus he received the full 
 force of the shock, which pitched him against the 
 opposite seat. He was the only occupant of the 
 carriage, and when the train came to a standstill he 
 was found to be dead. His neck had been broken. 
 
 They took him on to the next station, and thence 
 conveyed him to a room at the inn to await the 
 inquest. 
 
 But who was he } That puzzled the people, for 
 no papers or memoranda were found on his person, 
 and his identification seemed hopeless. 
 
 But Castelli had read of the accident in the daily 
 papers, and he went and identified the body, mak- 
 ing at the same time all the arrangements for the 
 funeral. 
 
 He had refused to bury her mother, but for the 
 sake of the wife whose memory was so fresh in his 
 mind he would pay this last tribute of respect to 
 her father. 
 
200 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 She had not been dead long enough to be 
 forgotten. 
 
 That was to come. 
 
 Charles Gurney was the only one who met his 
 death in the railway disaster, the only one of 
 those travelling to meet such an awful end — the 
 one man, who had the future welfare of two innocent 
 children in his hands. 
 
 Why should he have been chosen and others 
 left? 
 
 Surely there is a fate, after all, which guides the 
 footsteps of life. 
 
 Who can doubt it ? 
 
 We may disbelieve, we may scoff, mock, and 
 jeer at those who put their faith in destiny. But 
 contempt must fall when truth stands out so 
 clearly. 
 
 That must always be. 
 
 Leila’s dream had come to pass. Father, mother, 
 and child were home at last. 
 
 They were waiting for Tom to share their bliss. 
 
 But the hour of reunion was not yet. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 
 
 ‘Yes, sir, I shall try my luck with the rest,’ said Tom 
 to Mr Bates one morning, intimating his intention 
 of quitting the store for the diamond fields. 
 
 ‘Well, you were getting on all right here. It 
 seems to me as if this boom at the De Beers mine 
 has turned everyone’s head. You are smitten, too, 
 and throw up an appointment for an uncertainty. 
 I don’t think it will be a good thing for all. Some 
 
TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 
 
 201 
 
 will lose ; everybody cannot make a fortune out of 
 the diamonds,’ said Mr Bates with caution. 
 
 ‘ I mean to try,’ persisted Tom. ‘ I mean to do 
 some business for myself if I can. I shall go up to 
 Colesberg Kopje and see what is going.’ 
 
 ‘You’ll find things in a terribly rough condition. 
 I know food will be a pretty stiff item. You’ll soon 
 spend all you’ve saved. You’d better stay where 
 you are.’ 
 
 But Tom shook his head and replied, — 
 
 ‘ No, I’ve made up my mind to purchase a tent 
 waggon and an outfit and go to the place. I might 
 be successful. Somebody must. Why not I ? ’ 
 
 Mr Bates made no reply. He saw that Tom 
 would never settle down again to life at the store 
 and that all he might say would be in vain. At the 
 same time he was honestly vexed that Tom should 
 wish to leave him for what he considered was a rash 
 undertaking. He had grown much attached to 
 him, and a strong friendship seemed to be estab- 
 lished between the two men. Tom had done his 
 work well. There had been no scamping of duties, 
 however hard, and Mr Bates had no fault to find 
 with his assistant, and his going away was a source 
 of great distress to him. However, he was of far 
 too generous a nature to use any undue influence 
 over his comrade ; and so Tom went his way, and 
 left the roadside store which, if lonely, had at any- 
 rate sheltered him during the years he had most 
 needed a home. The business had enabled him 
 to forget, in a measure, his mother’s disgrace, and 
 a feeling of intense regret came over him when the 
 last good-byes had to be said, and his voice faltered 
 a little when Mr Bates came to the waggon and 
 wished him God-speed and shook him once more 
 by the hand. 
 
 Tom was by no means ungrateful for all the 
 
202 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 kindness which had been shown him, but he was 
 seized with a great desire to possess a ‘ claim ’ at 
 New Rush. He had visions in his mind of untold 
 wealth, of a certain sweet girl whom he longed to 
 call wife, so with these ambitious projects in view 
 he commenced his journey. 
 
 He was prepared to find things very rough and 
 extremely uncomfortable, but the true state of 
 affairs was far beyond what he had pictured. When 
 he reached New’ Rush the desolation of the place 
 was depressing beyond description. There were 
 only some thousands of tents, waggons, a few 
 wooden framed canvas erections, and plenty of 
 wretched canteens, the resort of the lowest grades 
 of society, and Tom feared that he would be 
 practically alone even among many. He man- 
 aged to buy a claim for one hundred and twenty 
 pounds, a lucky chance, as already the original 
 owners, who had pegged out claims when the rush 
 took place, were selling portions of them — an eighth, 
 a quarter, or a half, as the case might be. He drew 
 up his tent waggon close to the spot and prepared 
 to make that his home. 
 
 All around him were those who came in search of 
 diamonds — thousands and thousands eager to try 
 their luck — farmers, shopkeepers, clerks, masters 
 and men of all sorts and conditions ; but the re- 
 spectable members of the crowd were largely in the 
 majority, and the rest were, as. a rule, fairly law^ 
 abiding ; their one object was to obtain the precious 
 white stones hidden away in Mother Earth. Day 
 after day they toiled in the heat of the blazing sun, 
 many to return to their canvas homes cruelly dis- 
 appointed ; but wRen another day broke they began 
 again to scrape over very carefully the earth, hoping 
 to find a reward for their labour. Hour after hour 
 the patient scratching went on, hope keeping up 
 
TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 
 
 203 
 
 the heart of the weary labourer. But Tom was 
 so bent upon success that his surroundings were of 
 little discomfort to him. Indeed, his zeal was so 
 great that nothing was likely to upset him so long 
 as his health stood him in good stead, so he deter- 
 mined to make the best of matters and set to work 
 with a will and begin operations without further 
 delay. His claim was thirty feet square, and with 
 the help of two Kaffir boys, whom he hired to do 
 the digging, he soon got to his new venture. Very 
 hard and monotonous it was at first to Tom, who 
 had been accustomed to a much easier life at the 
 store, but he had taken out his digger’s licence and 
 made all arrangements to work the claim, and he 
 determined to continue through all difficulties and 
 to wait for the luck he felt sure must some time come. 
 
 Every day, for two long months, he had sat at a 
 rude wooden table, with the bright burning sun 
 above his head, scraping with a piece of old hoop 
 iron the earth carried to him from his claim by his 
 two Kaffir boys, who continually kept bringing 
 basket after basket and depositing it on one end of 
 his table. Very patiently he had toiled, but so far he 
 had seen no trace of a diamond, and a decided de- 
 pression was fast creeping over his ambitious hopes, 
 so there were hours when he wished himself back 
 at the roadside store. 
 
 One morning, when Tom was more than usually 
 depressed and down-hearted, a stranger came up to 
 his table, and stood watching him silently for a few 
 moments, then he spoke. 
 
 ‘Well, governor, trying to make a fortune? 
 Pretty hard work, isn’t it? I heard of the “boom ” 
 so thought I might just as well “ rush it” with the 
 rest. Had any luck ? ’ 
 
 ‘No,’ said Tom rather grumpily, and he went on 
 scratching at a mass of earth with hasty vigour. 
 
204 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘Takes time and patience, ’ replied the stranger,. 
 ‘ and if there’s no luck the expenses run pretty 
 high. I never heard of such confounded cheek, 
 charging a fellow a bob for a loaf of bread, and 
 five bob for a little bit of a cabbage which would 
 be called a stalk with a couple of outside leaves in 
 England. A cove at the canteen asked me three 
 shillings for a dozen eggs, and seven bob for a 
 bushel of potatoes. “Thanks,” I says, “I’ll give 
 you three bob for the hen, but I’m blest if I will 
 for the eggs, and as for the potatoes, well, I can go 
 without.” Strikes me a goodish few diamonds are 
 needed to keep the pot boiling in these parts,’ said 
 the stranger heartily. 
 
 ‘Yes, you’ll find everything pretty dear,’ replied 
 Tom, without evincing much interest in the man, 
 who continued to watch his movements. 
 
 Nothing daunted by his cool reception, the 
 stranger continued, — 
 
 ‘ I don’t know much about this blessed diamond 
 digging, but I’m going in for a “ claim.” My aunt 
 left me some money, so I shall try the speculation. 
 “Nothing venture, nothing win ” — good old adage 
 that. But, I say, what’s the licence cost for a digger?’ 
 
 ‘Seven and sixpence a month,’ replied Tom, 
 shortly. 
 
 ‘ Oh, seven and six ! Anyone would think we 
 were dogs. But there. I’ll pay that on the chance 
 of scoring a few thirty-carat diamonds. Now what’s 
 the worth of a good diamond ? ’ the stranger asked. 
 
 The question was so direct that Tom was obliged 
 to give a distinct reply, though he did so most un- 
 willingly, for he was tired, heated, and very sorely 
 disappointed, and the intrusion of a stranger just at 
 that time annoyed him considerably. 
 
 ‘ A good-sized diamond of — let me see, well, of 
 thirty to fifty carats, is worth, if “off colour,” about 
 
TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 
 
 205 
 
 four pounds a carat ; if good colour, twelve pounds 
 a carat ; but you have to find them first/ said Tom 
 wearily. 
 
 ‘Just what you are trying to do, by the look of 
 you/ said the stranger with good humour. 
 
 Tom was in no mood to be joked, and to show 
 his displeasure he swept a mass of the earth from 
 the table on to the ground. 
 
 ‘ Here, I say, governor, you’ll never find diamonds 
 at that rate. Can’t you do it more gentle like ? ’ 
 and as he spoke the stranger looked down at the 
 heap of upturned earth. 
 
 ‘ By Jove ! what’s this ? ’ he cried excitedly, as he 
 stooped to pick up a bit of soil which Tom had so 
 ruthlessly swept from the table. 
 
 ‘A diamond ! a diamond !’ shouted Tom in his 
 joy. ‘ Hurrah ! a diamond at last ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Hurrah ! ’ said the stranger, ‘ I’m in luck. Just 
 fancy me finding that after you shoved it down. 
 
 ‘ By Jove ! ’ he cried excitedly. 
 
 ‘ The first found on my claim, too — what a jolly 
 lucky fellow you are ! Shake hands over it, old 
 man/ said Tom warmly, and come to the canteen 
 and have a drink on the strength of our luck — come 
 along.’ 
 
 ‘ No, thank you, governor ; I’m deuced pleased I 
 was the one to find the first diamond on your claim, 
 but I’m “ sworn off.” The drink it’s been my curse, 
 and I mustn’t touch a drop,’ said the stranger with 
 determination. 
 
 ‘ Oh, just this once you can,’ said Tom persua- 
 sively. ‘ One drink cannot make much difference. 
 You needn’t take another. Just think of our luck.’ 
 
 ‘Just think of me drunk as an owl, that’s more 
 to the point. I guess there would not be much 
 luck in that — eh, governor ? ’ 
 
 Tom was decidedly pleased at the man’s re- 
 
2o6 slaves of the sawdust. 
 
 fusal, but anxious to show him some hospitality, 
 he replied, — 
 
 ' Well, come to my waggon and have some tea 
 and a chat,’ said Tom. 
 
 ‘ I most certainly will with pleasure. Tea is tea, 
 and drink is drink. The one keeps me a man, the 
 other a fool,’ replied the stranger. 
 
 Together they went to the tent waggon, and 
 after many gloating looks at their precious find 
 they settled down to enjoy tea and a chat. 
 
 As Tom talked the stranger kept his eyes fixed 
 on his face. Surely there was something familiar 
 in the large fearless eyes, and something in the clear 
 ringing voice which he had heard before? 
 
 But how could that be in the great strange land ? 
 And yet he could not rid himself of the fancy, and 
 as his companion continued to chat the feeling grew 
 almost into a certainty. 
 
 ‘I say, governor, what is your name?’ the stranger 
 asked at last 
 
 ‘Tom Hesketh,’ uttering the surname as if he 
 would rather have left it unsaid. ‘And what is 
 yours?’ he continued. 
 
 ‘ Whanks, I’m called just Whanks, and nothing 
 else. So you are Mr Tom Hesketh, are you?’ he 
 said quietly. ‘ Oh, I fancied I knew you, but I find 
 I don’t. Got any relations ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, a father,’ replied Tom evasively, ‘and one 
 sister somewhere in England, but she turned out a 
 great disappointment to us. I have no other rela- 
 tions,’ he continued, ignoring his mother entirely. 
 
 Whanks was puzzled. He had never known 
 anyone of that name, and yet he could not dispel 
 the feeling that they had met before. 
 
 Tom and Whanks spent the rest of the hot, lan- 
 guid day in talking over the future. Something in 
 the frank, outspoken stranger made Tom reluctant 
 
TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 
 
 207 
 
 to part with him, and finally he decided to let 
 Whanks buy a portion of his claim, and they 
 arranged mutually to share the tent waggon and 
 throw their lives into one partnership. 
 
 After the first chat Tom and Whanks never 
 referred to their past lives. Both of them gave all 
 their time and attention to their work, and both 
 men were the happier for each other’s company in 
 a strange land. They were drawn together because 
 they both came from the dear old country so far 
 away. Surely that was a link which nothing could 
 bend or break ? 
 
 Tom’s luck seemed to have taken a turn after 
 Whanks had joined the undertaking, for several fine 
 diamonds were found on their joint claim, and Tom 
 began to picture himself a rich man. Buoyed by 
 this hope, he worked with greater vigour than ever. 
 
 Whanks laboured too. But he did more, he in- 
 fused a healthy, merry tone amongst the rough and 
 often abandoned men around them, and without in 
 any way joining in dissolute fun. He managed to 
 become a general favourite — playing tricks upon his 
 companions, and generally making fun amongst 
 those who had left home and friends to search for 
 riches. 
 
 So much was he liked that one day when it be- 
 came known that he had gone alone, gun in hand, 
 towards the kopjes, and a storm seemed inevitable, 
 the greatest consternation reigned in and around 
 the canteens, and Tom was questioned many times 
 as the heat grew more heavy and the air more still 
 and oppressive ; and although Tom laughed at 
 their fears, he felt seriously uncomfortable to think 
 of his friend, alone and without shelter, if the terrible 
 storm should break before his return. 
 
 Suddenly it burst upon them, and the whole stretch 
 of land, as far as the eye could reach, seemed a livid 
 
2o8 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 mass of fire, whilst the thunder crashed and roared 
 as if it would destroy all the earth with its might 
 and its anger. 
 
 The men in the canteens stood huddled together, 
 silent with fear. But Tom repaired to his waggon, 
 growing desperately uneasy about his companion. 
 
 At last there came one blinding, curling flash of 
 lightning, which seemed to envelop everything in 
 its vivid tongue of flame, this was followed by a 
 heavy crash, which died away in angry mutterings, 
 and then there was silence and a calm. Tom ven- 
 tured to look out of his shelter; everything was like 
 a deluge, the water, from the excessive rain, coming to 
 the height of his waggon wheels, and at the canteen 
 he saw a man on a horse which swam down the 
 path with the current. But above him the sky grew 
 rapidly blue, the sun shone out resplendent in his 
 glory, the storm had passed on its way. But where 
 was Whanks ? As soon as the water would permit 
 him, Tom descended from his waggon and went to 
 the canteen to see if Whanks had gone in there at 
 the last moment. 
 
 But no, there was no sign of him, and the men 
 shook their heads and expressed their opinion that 
 no man could live out in that storm. 
 
 ‘ He’d be scorched to a cinder,' said one burly 
 man. 
 
 ‘ He be drowned like a rat,' said another. 
 
 ‘ Dead as a flounder by this time if he ain’t in quad 
 somewhere,' called a third man in a conclusive tone. 
 
 ‘ We can only hope for the best,' said Tom at last ; 
 ‘he is no fool,' he added. 
 
 ‘ Fool or no fool,' said the first speaker, ‘ the 
 lightning don't care — it would as lief kill one as 
 t’other.' 
 
 As they talked Whanks was seen approaching 
 the canteen, gun in hand. 
 
TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 209 
 
 ' Here he is, here he is ! ’ cried a chorus of voices, 
 and they went towards him. 
 
 ‘ Well, old fellow, got home again ? ’ cried one. 
 
 ‘ Where did you turn in ? ' asked another. 
 
 ‘ Where did you shelter? ’ chimed in Tom. 
 
 Whanks stood before them smiling, dry, and with 
 a cheery look upon his face, now crimson with the 
 heat of the day. 
 
 In his hand he held his gun and one solitary hare. 
 
 ‘ Here, ask one question at a time,’ laughed 
 Whanks; 'a fellow cannot answer half of them. 
 Now, ril tell you just where Fve been, and how 
 I escaped, if you care to hear.’ 
 
 ^ Go on,’ they shouted. 
 
 ‘Well, I had made up my mind to have a bit of 
 an excursion up one of the kopjes and bring down 
 what I could, and this is the result,’ he added, hold- 
 ing up the hare for his companions’ inspection, and 
 then he continued : ‘ I got to the top of the kopje, 
 the sky above me was lovely, no sign of storm, but 
 when I looked down across the basin beyond I saw 
 the clouds in great masses, and the lightning play- 
 ing in the distance, and the thunder was coming 
 nearer. I cut down that blessed ridge as hard as I 
 could pelt, sticking to the gun and the hare likedeath. 
 By Jove ! how hot it was ! In a few moments the 
 storm clouds covered the sky, it was coming nearer 
 every second. I tore on for very life, half blinded 
 by the flashes of lightning. Suddenly I felt a great 
 dab of ram, and holding on to the gun and this 
 blessed hare, I spurted all I knew, for sixty yards 
 away I could see the Kaffir kraals. I reached 
 a hut just as the storm broke, and shot in at the 
 entrance, hare and all. You should have seen the 
 look of astonishment on the faces of the women and 
 children as I floundered in ; but they turned a tub 
 over to make nfie a seat, and there we sat, two 
 O 
 
210 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Kaffir women, five kids, and myself, gun, and hare. 
 They all talked, so did I, but we didn’t understand 
 a word each other said. By Jove ! how hot it was 
 in that hut ! I was nearly sick, and the lightning 
 was a treat I can tell you. For two blessed hours 
 I stuck on that tub, gasping and perspiring until 
 I was all of a sweat. When I looked out after the 
 storm the hailstones were as large as pigeon eggs. 
 Fm blowed if I’ll go hunting again in a hurry. I’ve 
 waded home like a duck in a thunderstorm ; but no 
 more of it — thanks, gentlemen,’ said Whanks with 
 a bow. 
 
 A round of applause and two or three hearty 
 cheers rose as Whanks finished his narrative, and 
 then, much amused, they turned to go to their 
 claims, when Whanks called out, — 
 
 ‘ Hi ! here! we’ll have a raffle for the hare by-and- 
 by, what do you say, gentlemen ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Put the gun in with it,’ responded one of them. 
 ‘ And then it’ll be worth havin’,’ called another. 
 
 ‘ Here, look out!’ cried Whanks, and as he spoke 
 he flung the hare at the group of men. A scuffle 
 took place for its possession, which ended in several 
 of the men securing portions of the unfortunate 
 animal, and amidst peals of laughter the party 
 scattered to their labours, and the incident of the 
 storm was forgotten in the anxiety for gain. 
 
 Days, months, and years sped on, and time 
 brought ruin to some and wealth to others of the 
 toilers. Many had left their claims, weary, saddened 
 men, broken in health and spirits, with all their 
 hopes dashed into nothing, even as the foam which 
 crests the waves, and though beautiful to the eyes, 
 sinks away from sight on the seashore. 
 
 Others had worked perseveringly to the last with 
 but little regard to their disappointment, but there 
 were some who made great riches, and amongst 
 
TOM TRIES HIS LUCK. 
 
 2II 
 
 that lucky number Tom and Whanks stood almost 
 first on the list. On the average, three hundred 
 diamonds in ten months had come to their share, 
 a fair number only a little off colour, and a small 
 per cent., say three or four per cent, quite perfect. 
 This continued for some years, and one night Tom 
 said to Whanks, — 
 
 ‘ I don’t feel inclined to go on diamond hunting 
 much longer. When shall we go back to the old 
 country ? I haven’t heard from my father for a long 
 time ; I think I shall go and see the old man.’ 
 
 ‘And your sister, too, I suppose?’ 
 
 ‘ I don’t know about that,’ replied Tom quickly. 
 ‘Well, I shall go home soon, because a friend 
 has written to me that a someone I knew is dead, 
 and the children are left quite at their father’s 
 mercy, and I should like to see to them. But I 
 sha’n’t go until I hear again. Maybe there is some 
 mistake as to her death,’ said Whanks quietly. 
 
 ‘ Her ! ’ replied Tom, dwelling upon the her^ and 
 smiling sadly. ‘ There is a lady in the case, eh ? ’ 
 
 ‘ In her coffin, you mean,’ said Whanks bitterly. 
 ‘Ah! Mr Hesketh, you don’t know the circum- 
 stances — poor Miss Leila, Miss Leila 1 ’ 
 
 He dropped his voice almost to a whisper. 
 
 ‘ Leila, Leila ! What was her other name ? ’ asked 
 Tom, turning white. 
 
 ‘ Leila Gurney once, afterwards Leila Castelli. 
 Poor thing, poor thing ! I ought never to have left 
 her.’ 
 
 ‘What had you to do with her? Tell me, tell 
 me quickly, was she married ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Married I ’ said Whanks. ‘ Of course she was. 
 Are you an old sweetheart, then?’ 
 
 ‘No,’ replied Tom. ‘No; I am Tom Gurney. 
 My sister’s name was Leila. Tell me all — all there 
 is to know. Tell me, is she dead ? ’ 
 
212 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Whanks and Tom sat that night through, and 
 when the pale stars waned, and when the glories 
 of another waking day were at hand and ready to 
 burst with hues of splendour, they still sat talking. 
 
 There was so much to tell. 
 
 But it was all sadness, for Leila Gurney had 
 known little joy. And as Leila Castelli still less. 
 
 Was the light of her life dead ? 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IN SACRED AISLE. 
 
 The months had measured out their span — the 
 years had run their course. Springtimes had 
 changed to winter, summers succeeded each 
 other since Leila had been laid to rest. Many 
 glorious dawns had lit up the lonely grave 
 marked by the plain marble slab, and the last 
 lingering beams of day had, unnoticed, shed their 
 softest light where the circus rider lay. 
 
 Dead and gone, almost forgotten amongst those 
 with whom she had lived and toiled ; forgotten 
 by the applauding audiences, for there were others 
 to take her place, others to do all that she had 
 done, and the people were satisfied. 
 
 Are the dear dead to be cast out of mind like a 
 vision which passes by and is lost to remembrance 
 as time goes on ? 
 
 The widower cries ‘ Yes,^ the widow is ready to 
 smile at the new fresh love, and to forget the old 
 days when the now dead man had wooed her and 
 made her his bride. Alas ! alas ! Such is death 
 — such is life. 
 
 Leila's children had passed through the years 
 
IN sacred AISLfi. 
 
 213 
 
 happily enough. Their father, if not actually in- 
 dulgent, did not ill-use them ; he had never used 
 personal violence to them since his wife's death. 
 He had so far fulfilled his promises to her. They 
 had been his constant companions in all his Con- 
 tinental engagements, and he left them to follow 
 their own pursuits without much restriction, so 
 long as they caused him no personal annoyance. 
 He had devoted neither time nor money to their 
 education, nevertheless the children had managed 
 to pick up a fund of knowledge, acquired by visiting 
 foreign cities and through the girl’s natural taste for 
 reading. Vanda had inherited all her mother’s re- 
 fined nature, and she had an intense love for nature 
 and all that was beautiful, and eagerly she sought to 
 understand everything that came before her. Child 
 as she was, she did her best to teach Adrian all she 
 knew and read. But his tastes were somewhat 
 different to those of his sister. She could spend 
 hours reading, but Adrian loved nothing but 
 pictures and poetry, and in books he evinced very 
 little interest — unless they contained the life of an 
 artist he could not be persuaded to read them. 
 He showed no taste for his father’s profession, and 
 seldom asked to go with him to the circus. He had 
 made up his mind to be a painter some day, and 
 to paint great pictures like those he had seen in 
 the cathedrals. 
 
 Castelli, to humour him, had bought him a paint- 
 box, and for hours the lad would sit making little 
 sketches with his brush, rude in construction, but 
 showing genius and originality of design. Vanda 
 treasured these boyish paintings, and very carefully 
 she stowed them away at the bottom of her box ; 
 they were the dearest and most precious of her 
 scanty possessions. 
 
 Poor little child, all the love of her heart was 
 
214 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 centred upon her brother ; there was nothing she 
 would not sacrifice to ensure his comfort. He was 
 her one thought day and night, and in return for 
 this strong affection Adrian gave her a most de- 
 voted love. Thus the days passed, and the children 
 happy in their tender feeling towards each other, 
 never deamt of sadness coming to cast its shadows 
 over their brightness. 
 
 But the gloaming was at hand. The days of joy, 
 peace, and rest were fast drawing to a close. 
 
 The hereafter was to be for a time hell upon earth. 
 
 It was in the festive city of Brussels that the 
 cloud first appeared upon the horizon of their 
 young lives. 
 
 The circus had been there some time, and the chil- 
 dren had enjoyed the sights of the great gay town. 
 Adrian had spent much of his time at the cathedral, 
 and once he found his way to the Wiertz Musee, 
 and for hours had stood rooted to the spot with 
 wonder. One picture, representing Napoleon Buona- 
 parte in hell, fascinated him beyond description, 
 and when he reached home he attempted to por- 
 tray the well-known figure, in its white coat, with 
 the cocked hat drawn down over the brows. 
 Vanda was delighted with his efforts, and Wiertz 
 himself never received half the praise for his great 
 masterpiece that Adrian did from his proud and 
 loving sister. 
 
 At the cathedral Adrian found more difficulty in 
 watching his beloved pictures and statues, for the 
 verger had found out they came from the circus, and 
 several times he had sternly ordered the children 
 from the building when he found they did not come 
 to pray to the Blessed Virgin or to bring offerings 
 to some saint. 
 
 Vanda was afraid to go again ; but one afternoon 
 Adrian had been gone some hours, and she began 
 
IN SACRED AISLE. 21 5 
 
 to grow anxious, and at her father’s suggestion she 
 went to look for him. 
 
 Very softly fell her footsteps as she entered the 
 dim, still Cathedral of St Gudule et St Michael. 
 She trembled and started nervously when the heavy 
 oaken door gave a creak as she closed it. Very 
 cautiously she entered, looking around after every 
 hasty footfall. Once she paused to listen to a 
 sound, but perchance it was only the pit-a-pat of 
 her own anxious heart. She gained a little courage 
 as she went, and at last she stood opposite one of 
 the great stained windows. She listened again ; all 
 was silent. The last notes of the organ had died 
 away after the solemn vesper hour, the worshippers 
 had gone homewards, only a faint blue mist re- 
 mained over the Altar of Mysteries, for it was not 
 long since the incense had arisen to purify the 
 earthiness around the tabernacle, and now its 
 fragrance had floated down the choir and reached 
 the nave beyond. 
 
 The perpetual lamp before the sacred Host 
 flickered now and again, making the brilliants on 
 the cross reflect gleams of purple, blue, and crimson, 
 yet they, too, were somewhat veiled in the shadows 
 of the incense cloud. Suddenly the setting sun 
 broke through the painted, figured windows, which 
 tell the story of the stolen wafer, spreading a ruddy 
 glow over transept and aisles, and resting on 
 the deep bays, lighting niches and statues with 
 glittering hues, seeming to rest longer upon the 
 representation of the Saviour of the People. But 
 the shadows came betwixt the ruby tints and the 
 cross of gold, and then the rays lit up the last 
 resting places of many a noble house, brightening 
 the dim vaults of the Princes of the House of 
 Austria, which grew brilliant with blue and crimson. 
 Intense and changing grew the colours as they 
 
2i6 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 glided over the polished marble floor, and then 
 lingered almost lovingly over the girlish figure 
 standing alone beside a mighty column. A halo of 
 brilliance rested upon and around her head. She 
 was crowned with glory as no earthly crown can 
 ever shine, clothed with divers colours with which 
 no artist can ever clothe his model, for were they 
 not the offsprings of a light which never fades or 
 grows dim. 
 
 Despite her fear, despite her somewhat untidy 
 apparel, Vanda was absolute in her beauty. Even 
 when the sun sank behind the summer clouds, and 
 left the cathedral dim and lonely, even then Vanda 
 was beautiful. She knew that, for did not the 
 groups outside the cafes whisper as she passed. 
 
 Suddenly she paused, and her small voice broke 
 the actual stillness of the spot where she stood. 
 Her voice was so soft that it could not have reached 
 the altar, where the body of Christ, in the form of 
 the wafer, rested in the Tabernacle waiting for the 
 ‘ Adoration of the Faithful.’ 
 
 ‘ Adrian! ’ she called, ‘Adrian 1 ’ 
 
 But no reply came from behind the massive 
 pillars, no voice answered that plaintive cry. The 
 silence seemed the greater after her voice was 
 hushed, as in the valley when the echo has died 
 away. 
 
 She listened. The light in the cathedral was 
 growing dim, the cloud of incense was gone, the 
 figures of the disciples looked white and cold 
 against the deepening twilight. 
 
 She would call once again, for Adrian often 
 came to watch the changing lights, the pictures, and 
 the altars, with their flowers and gems. She moved 
 towards the Lady Chapel. There, high above the 
 altar, stood a life-sized figure of the Virgin Mother, 
 robed in spotless white. Behind the canvas a light 
 
IN SACRED AISLE. 
 
 217 
 
 burnt dimly, and in the gloaming the beauty of the 
 figure stood out in bold relief. For a moment it 
 startled her to see that living picture. She had seen 
 it often before, but somehow it looked more pure, 
 more still than she had ever remembered. 
 
 She wondered if their mother looked like that 
 now she was an angel. 
 
 She gazed awe-struck for a moment or so, and 
 then she called in a louder voice. 
 
 ‘ Adrian ! Adrian ! are you here } ’ 
 
 But there was no response, only a rattle of keys, 
 a heavy footstep, a cough, loud and prolonged, 
 Vanda knew it was Tose come to light up for the 
 Benediction service. If he caught her, a child of 
 the circus, unbaptised, a child who had never con- 
 fessed to the priests or knelt at the communion ! 
 How often before he had found her lingering there 
 with Adrian ! How often had he told them to be 
 gone, and not to turn the cathedral into a pro- 
 menade! So she knew it would be useless to ask 
 him to let her find Adrian, and she turned and 
 fled. And whilst she wandered down the steep 
 hill to the bright boulevard the candles blazed 
 upon the altars, and the organ poured forth 
 glorious strains, and the kneeling people raised 
 their voices in the Ave Maria Stella, and priests 
 bowed before the consecrated wafer and wor- 
 shipped, but Vanda never prayed now. 
 
 When she reached home she found Adrian there ; 
 he had come in whilst she had been seeking him 
 in the cathedral. 
 
 ‘ Father has been gone ever so long,' said the 
 child, ‘ and I couldn't think where you were. Will 
 you read something to me, Vanda?' 
 
 ‘We will have some supper first, Adrian, and 
 then I will read to you about Zeuxis,' replied 
 Vanda. 
 
2i8 slaves of the sawdust. 
 
 ‘Who is Zeuxis?’ asked the child. ‘If he is a 
 horrid king out of the history of some place I 
 don’t want to hear anything about him.’ 
 
 ‘ Zeuxis was a Grecian painter, Adrian.’ 
 
 The child’s eyes brightened at once, his interest 
 was aroused, and he said, — 
 
 ‘ A painter ! Tell me some more about him, and 
 where did you see about him ? ’ 
 
 ‘ In a book which Ringens gave mother long, 
 ever so long ago. Zeuxis painted a bunch of 
 grapes so like real grapes that the little birds came 
 and pecked them, and then he did another picture, 
 a boy, I daresay like you, holding a bunch of 
 grapes, which the birds also flew to and pecked ; 
 but this made the painter very angry, because he 
 said his picture was not natural, and that if he had 
 drawn the boy as well as he had planted the grapes, 
 the birds would have been afraid of him. Was not 
 that funny, Adrian ? ’ she asked, glad to have some- 
 thing to tell him which gave him pleasure. 
 
 ‘ Is he dead ? ’ asked the child. 
 
 ‘ Years and years ago ; he died from laughing at 
 the picture of an old woman he had painted,’ replied 
 Vanda smilingly. ‘ But I sha’n’t tell you any more 
 until we have had supper.’ 
 
 They sat down together to eat the portions which 
 Castelli had prepared for them before he went to 
 the circus, and then Vanda set herself the task of 
 reading and amusing Adrian until their bedtime. 
 
 Whilst they chatted happily at home a man and 
 woman were walking slowly under the trees in the 
 Boulevard de Waterloo. The gas lamps flickered 
 on the splendid beauty of the woman and on the 
 fierce, cruel face of the man, who was talking with 
 great earnestness. 
 
 ‘ If you can get round him the thing can be 
 arranged easily enough — get them into my hands 
 
IN SACRED AISLE. 2ig 
 
 I am determined I will at any cost/ said the man, 
 with a fiendish gleam in his bright, cold eyes. 
 
 ‘You still bear the mother a grudge, do you ? ’ 
 asked the woman, smiling sweetly. 
 
 ‘You know I do, Cleo. I swore I would have 
 my revenge for taking that summons out against 
 me. I lost a good engagement over that cursed 
 business — had to “ cut ” for fear of what might 
 come out if she went into the court. I hate her 
 memory,' said Horrox with a hiss. 
 
 ‘ And so do I,' replied Cleo. ‘ If it had not been 
 for her infernal scheming I should have been Cas- 
 telli’s wife. She took the only man I loved from 
 me, and if I can plan revenge on her children, trust 
 me for doing so. You shall get them into your 
 power before long, I bet. The girl must be about 
 twelve or thirteen, and the boy a year or so younger. 
 They told me down at the circus that Castelli lets 
 them do just as they please, and they spend all 
 the blessed day at picture galleries and idling away 
 their time. Neither of them have been brought up 
 to earn a penny, but they are stunners — ^just lovely 
 children. When did you see them last?' 
 
 ‘Yesterday,' replied Horrox. ‘You see I don't 
 open here until Saturday night — neither do you — 
 but I thought it best to scheme out the future and 
 get matters settled, and then we shall see what 
 they will /lave to earn for me. I'm damned if they 
 will go to any more picture galleries. They will 
 have to keep 7ne^ and take your oath my training 
 won’t err on the side of kindness — revenge is sweet — 
 and I long to get the handling of them. It must be 
 done somehow,' replied Horrox determinedly. 
 
 ‘ But Castelli will never give them up to you,' 
 said Cleo with certainty in her voice. 
 
 ‘ Who the devil supposed he would,' replied the 
 man with anger. ‘ You must get him to apprentice 
 
220 
 
 SLAVES OE THE SAWDUST. 
 
 them to someone, and I will arrange for them to 
 be handed over to me, and then we’ll see what 
 hard work and the whip will do. I sha’n’t spare 
 them ; the mother had her turn against me, and now 
 it’s my turn against her brats. If I don’t have my 
 revenge my name isn’t Horrox.’ 
 
 ^ Right you are,’ replied Cleo with a satisfied air. 
 ‘ Castelli has been sweet enough to me since his 
 wife died, but that goes for nothing — it’s his way 
 with women ; but I’ll bring about the matter some- 
 how. Leave it to me.’ 
 
 ‘ I’ll stand you something handsome when you 
 have done the job ; but whatever we do we must 
 keep quiet, and don’t hang on to me down at the 
 circus. And when you suggest to Castelli that his 
 children should be apprenticed, lay it on strong 
 that they should go to a man who will take care of 
 them ; at the same time ze/e must choose him, and 
 make arrangements with him to pass them over 
 to me.’ 
 
 ‘ That’s a matter for detail later on,’ replied Cleo ; 
 ‘we have to get them first.’ 
 
 They walked on some distance, then turned into 
 a cafe and refreshed themselves with coffee and 
 cognac, and before they parted that night the ruin 
 of two children had been planned, two happy lives 
 were to be marred by cruelty and brutality, two 
 more white slaves to be added to the ranks of 
 those who suffer for the pleasure of the people. 
 
 Slavery, of course, it is not called — it owns the re- 
 spectable name of apprenticeship, but what else can 
 it be ? There is, after the training is over, a weekly 
 wealth for the master — for the little children, hard 
 work, drudgery, blows, torture, and no pay. 
 
 But perhaps that is not slavery after all. 
 
 Christian England cannot yet decide. 
 
 It may some day. 
 
A BROKEN PLEDGE. 
 
 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 A BROKEN PLEDGE. 
 
 Stealthily and ingeniously Cleo set about her 
 task of taking Castelli’s children from their home. 
 She put forth all her talons, and like a bird of prey 
 she was determined to seize her spoil at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 Cruel and heartless, and burning with an un- 
 quenchable revenge, no tender feelings arose in 
 her heart for the young children whose happiness 
 she was planning to destroy. 
 
 Many women are born without that most price- 
 less gift, a tender heart. In them stillness reigns 
 where yearning sympathy should live ; a hollow 
 void chills passions which nature would gladly 
 obey ; they know not the feelings which soften 
 life and give joy to the eyes and balm to the 
 sorrow-stricken. 
 
 There are too many such. 
 
 After Leila’s death Cleo had thrown herself con- 
 tinually in Castelli’s way. At first he treated her 
 with silent contempt — the remembrance of his dead 
 young wife was too keen to permit him to take 
 much notice of any woman, for he honestly mourned 
 her. But Cleo was patient, and contented herself 
 by waiting until his affection for his wife had 
 passed off. She contrived to procure engagements 
 wherever Castelli happened to perform, and thus 
 they were constantly thrown together. As time 
 went on he grew more civil towards her, and would 
 even enter into short conversations with her at the 
 rehearsals. At such times she used all her powers 
 to fascinate him. Once or twice she had offered 
 to go and see his children, but this Castelli had 
 
222 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 sternly refused, for he was sufficiently honest to 
 own to himself that she was not the sort of com- 
 panion Leila would have chosen for her little ones. 
 
 But, like the water-washed stone, time wears 
 away the rough surface of sorrow, and life comes 
 to look very much as it did before the great grief 
 came to shadow it with care. 
 
 And as the years sped on Castelli unconsciously 
 began to find delight in her society, and a strong 
 and exclusive friendship sprang up between the two, 
 she gaining influence over him gradually but 
 surely. But still he showed no indication of 
 wishing to make her his wife, and Cleo, try as 
 she might, could not bring him up to the desired 
 point. 
 
 One morning after a rehearsal Castelli stood in 
 the ring talking to Cleo. 
 
 ‘ You’re going to Bombay — you’re joking surely ? ’ 
 said Cleo. 
 
 ‘ I have had the offer to go out to a circus there, 
 and I am sick of England, so I think I shall go.’ 
 He paused as if anxious to see how the proposi- 
 tion affected his hearer. 
 
 ‘ When do you propose to start ? ’ she asked curtly. 
 
 ‘ After the Christmas holidays are over,’ he re- 
 plied. ‘ It will be a change altogether ; yes, I am 
 sure I shall take the engagement. There is only 
 one obstacle in the way or I shouldn’t hesitate 
 a moment’ 
 
 ‘The children, I suppose you mean? You can’t 
 drag them to Bombay, the expense would be just 
 awful, and it wouldn’t be good for them,’ answered 
 Cleo cautiously. 
 
 ‘ You’ve hit it,’ replied Castelli ; ‘ it’s the children 
 I am thinking about’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, you don’t mind leaving me, that’s plain,’ said 
 Cleo as a try on. 
 
A BROKEN PLEDGE. 223 
 
 He hesitated before he replied, and then he said 
 smilingly, — 
 
 ‘ I shall miss you, Cleo, but I cannot expect you 
 to go out there/ 
 
 ‘Why the deuce not?* she asked, looking him 
 straight in the face. 
 
 He hardly knew what to reply, and then he 
 said, — 
 
 ‘You might find it rather difficult to get an en- 
 gagement at your business ; it’s a toss up whether 
 they need anyone in your line. Til try and find out 
 through the agent if you like.* 
 
 She paused before she spoke again ; the chance 
 was too good to be lost by want of tact or by being 
 in too great haste. 
 
 ‘ I don’t know that I should care to go so far 
 alone. You see if I was married and had someone 
 to look after me I shouldn’t mind how far I went. 
 Don’t trouble to inquire at present, I must consider,’ 
 she replied quietly. 
 
 ‘ I’ll look after you,’ said Castelli quickly, really 
 anxious to have the clever southern woman as his 
 companion. 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes, and then go and get married like you 
 did before, and leave me to get on as best I can. 
 Oh, no, thanks ; much obliged for the offer.* 
 
 The sarcasm in her voice struck Castelli painfully, 
 but he replied sternly, — 
 
 ‘ I shall never marry again ; I could not find 
 another Leila if I sought the world over,* and a 
 shadow of sadness came over his face. 
 
 Cleo noticed it, and a very bitter feeling of resent- 
 ment against the dead woman rose in her heart ; 
 but she stifled it, so that he should not see how 
 annoyed she was at the praise he had bestowed 
 upon his wife. 
 
 ‘ That’s true enough, I daresay, but there are 
 
224 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 other women who would be just as fond of you if 
 you gave them half a chance/ she added as a hint. 
 
 ‘Yes, but that isn’t much good if I don’t love 
 them. Love doesn’t grow on every tree, by a long 
 chalk ; you can’t find mistletoe on every branch. 
 No, no ; I’ll look after you, Cleo, with pleasure, but 
 the wife business is out of the question.’ 
 
 Cleo grew crimson as he spoke, and replied 
 angrily, — 
 
 ‘ / don’t want to be your wife if that’s what you 
 think I’m driving at. I only said I did not want 
 to be chucked up if you married again, and then 
 the children they must be th — ’ 
 
 A crack of a whip, a thud of horses’ hoofs. A 
 young girl and a powerfully built, severe looking 
 man left the ring. He turned to Cleo, saying 
 brusquely, — 
 
 ‘ Here, clear out of this quick ; it’s my turn here 
 now.’ 
 
 ‘You be hanged with your sauce ! ’ she retorted, 
 angry at being disturbed, but she moved away as 
 she spoke, whilst Castelli remained to talk with the 
 manager. 
 
 As she passed out of the circus Horrox was 
 standing on the pavement, and he came up to 
 where she stood. 
 
 ‘ It’s no go yet,’ she said, shaking her head ; ‘ he’s 
 off to Bombay. He doesn’t intend to marry again. 
 He can’t forget the blessed Leila. It’s my belief 
 he’ll take the brats with him, and if so you may 
 whistle for your revenge,’ she answered with a sneer. 
 
 ‘ The devil! Did you ask him to marry you, then? 
 You seem darned put out,’ he replied calmly. 
 
 ‘No; I hinted it to him just to see which way 
 the land lay. You may trust me. I’ll get him 
 somehow. I don’t care which way it is,’ she said 
 with anger. ‘ But leave it all to me, and to-night 
 
A BROKEN PLEDGE. 
 
 225 
 
 ril think what will be the best means to work 
 the dodge. He says he does not know where to 
 leave them, and to-morrow I mean to make him 
 an offer.’ 
 
 ‘You! He won’t leave them with you/ said 
 Horrox quickly ; ‘ surely you’re not such a fool as 
 to suggest that ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Leave it to me. Either let me manage the 
 thing or do it yourself, and go to the devil for what 
 I care,’ she added with passion. 
 
 ‘ Not to-day, thank you ; perhaps I may some 
 other day,’ he replied flippantly. 
 
 She ignored his remark and said coolly, — 
 
 ‘ Well, au revoir, I shall win the game yet’ 
 
 An oath fell from his lips, but Cleo had passed 
 out of hearing. 
 
 ‘ She’s a perfect devil, there’s no mistaking that. 
 Castelli is too wideawake to marry her I bet He’d 
 be a blamed fool if he did.’ 
 
 He uttered another vile oath and sauntered 
 towards his apartments. 
 
 Castelli, walking hurriedly, passed him. He gave 
 Horrox a curt nod as he passed. There was no 
 fellowship between the men. 
 
 A mutual but silent hatred existed, and they 
 seldom exchanged common civilities. 
 
 When Cleo went home she thought out many a 
 crafty plan, and after sitting quietly for some time 
 she said aloud, — 
 
 ‘ Le Sale, he’s the man to send them to at first, 
 and then Horrox must bargain with him; that’s his 
 part of the show. But I shall have to go pretty 
 gingerly to work with Castelli.’ 
 
 It was some days before another opportunity 
 occurred for her to speak to Castelli, and in the 
 meantime he had been thinking how much he 
 should miss Cleo when he had left England. 
 
 P 
 
226 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Somehow the handsome Spanish woman always 
 fascinated him, and his thoughts were constantly 
 wandering to her. She had won his heart, but he 
 was loth to own it. 
 
 She looked unusually handsome when she walked 
 into his room at the circus one evening when her 
 performance was over. His ‘show' was over and 
 he was preparing to leave. 
 
 ‘ Don’t go, Castelli. I want a word with you,’ 
 she said eagerly. 
 
 He looked up at her bright, cheery face, and at 
 once remained to hear what she had to say. 
 
 ‘ When you spoke of going to Bombay the other 
 morning you led me to think that your children 
 were the bugbear. I have thought since why not 
 let Le Sale have them ? He wants apprentices, so 
 I hear.’ 
 
 She paused and waited anxiously for his reply. 
 
 ‘Put Vanda and Adrian to the show business ? 
 That is impossible. I promised my wife that 
 neither of them should be apprenticed to our work, 
 and I mean to keep to it,’ he said firmly. 
 
 ‘ But I think Leila must — ’ 
 
 Her sentence was interrupted by Castelli exclaim- 
 ing impatiently, — 
 
 ‘ Don’t speak of my wife by her Christian name. 
 You were not her friend, and I object to it, once 
 and for all.’ 
 
 She saw all would be lost if she did not humour 
 him in his present frame of mind, so she replied 
 sweetly, — 
 
 ‘ I beg pardon, I meant no offence. You see her 
 name figured on the bills, and we all seemed to 
 best know her by her Christian name, but I 
 didn’t mean to upset you. I must be careful in 
 future; but I am sure Madame Castelli only meant 
 you to> promise they should not fall into bad hands. 
 
A BROKEN PLEDGE. 
 
 227 
 
 She was not the sort of’ — person she was going to 
 say, but she substituted — Mady to wish them to do 
 nothing. Suppose you died, what would become of 
 them ? They would be much better earning for 
 themselves than left to starve in the streets.’ 
 
 ‘ That may be so,’ replied Castelli, ' but she made 
 me promise all the same. You see the Horrox 
 affair upset her, and after that she made up her 
 mind to keep the children clear of it’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, Horrox is a brute ! ’ Cleo replied cunningly, 
 
 ‘ but Le Sale is very kind to his children ; he en- 
 courages them by kindness. I have heard that he 
 has never ‘^flicked” his whip at anyof his apprentices. 
 Perhaps your wife was not aware such masters 
 existed among us? I bet Le Sale would suit any 
 mother. Have you seen him?’ she asked quickly. 
 Castelli smiled and then replied, — 
 
 ‘Yes, I have met him at lots of Continental 
 circuses ; he is a fool. I should like to know what 
 he has scored with his pupils. Why, none of 
 them have been big successes ; he reminds me of a 
 tame cat in the ring. Once when Belaine was ill 
 he asked Le Sale to put his celebrated trick horse 
 through his performance. Well, I never saw such 
 a beastly muddle as he made of the show. He 
 stood in the middle of the ring more afraid of the 
 horse than the horse was of him, but “ Wainfleet ” 
 knew his work, and when the music changed he 
 understood what came next, and just went on with- 
 out any master. Le Sale cracked his whip feebly 
 now and then, and bowed nervously when the 
 people applauded. The horse just went on as if the 
 man wasn’t there, and that old fool got as red in 
 the face as if he was going to have a fit ; and when 
 he came out of the ring I asked him for fun how he 
 had got on, and I’m darned if he didn’t answer as 
 meekly as a modest curate : “ Oh, the horse got on 
 
228 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 all right — if he had forgotten, I don’t quite know what 
 I should have done, but luckily he didn’t.” A man 
 like that can’t train. I’ve heard him trying to check 
 .some of his girls when they have been impertinent 
 to him, but they don’t care a hang for him. Vanda 
 would do more harm than good with such a noodle.’ 
 ‘ Oh, she’d like the fun, without the worry and 
 brutality of training,’ replied Cleo. ‘ It must be 
 dull work for the children, alone nearly all day. Le 
 Sale may be a fool, but he is kind, and you seem to 
 be able to provide for them now, so it does not 
 much matter whether they “ score big ” or not, and 
 they must be a dreadful nuisance to drag all over 
 the country.’ 
 
 As she spoke Castelli called to mind what a daily 
 anxiety his children were. There was their food to 
 order, their lodgings to pay, their clothes always 
 seemed to want repairing or renewing, and his land- 
 lady ran him up high bills for ‘ attendance,’ and when 
 he complained she told him ‘ children were a worrit, 
 and kept her on the run all the blessed day,’ and so 
 he settled the accounts with an oath. 
 
 He began to think that Cleo’s suggestion was a 
 good one, and that the children would be better off 
 employed, and of course Le Sale was not a man like 
 Horrox. He might do well to consider the matter. 
 
 'Yes, they are a bother when I am travelling,’ 
 said Castelli. ' I’ll think over what is best to be 
 done with them before I go to Bombay.’ 
 
 ' You are going then ? ’ asked Cleo, ' and all alone 
 too ? ’ she asked inquiringly. 
 
 He looked at her, their eyes met, and then he 
 spoke. 
 
 'Would you care to come with me, Cleo?’ he 
 asked her gently. ' I am very lonely, and if the 
 children go I shall be quite desolate.’ 
 
 He smiled almost sadly as he spoke, and the 
 
A BROKEN PLEDGE. 229 
 
 pathos in his voice would have touched any heart 
 with sympathy, but Cleo was not moved to com- 
 passion. 
 
 ‘Yes, I will go with you, Castelli, but as your 
 wife, or not at all.' 
 
 ‘ Then it must be not at all,' replied Castelli 
 firmly. ‘ I shall never marry again, never.' 
 
 ‘ Well, I suppose we must wait until I can per- 
 suade you to marry me, but I think you're awfully 
 shabby,' said Cleo with a sigh. 
 
 ‘ Not at all,' answered Castelli. ‘ I am just telling 
 you truth, and giving you the choice. You must 
 accept me on my conditions or give me up.' 
 
 She could never do that ; her passion for him 
 was too strong, and her desire for revenge on the 
 dead wife was still more strong — and perhaps he 
 might marry her some day, and she would not let 
 him go. 
 
 ‘ I cannot give you up,' she cried passionately. 
 ‘ I will go with you to Bombay, or anywhere else 
 in the world. Do take me with you, Castelli,' she 
 pleaded. 
 
 He hesitated for a moment and then said, — 
 
 ‘Very well, it is settled ; I will treat you well, 
 and in future we will share and share alike, and 
 I must do my best, Cleo, to make you happy.' He 
 stooped and kissed her. 
 
 ‘ ril help you all I can, and you settle the 
 children up with Le Sale, and then we shall be free.' 
 
 Castelli answered, — 
 
 ‘ If you like, Cleo. I suppose it’s best; but mind 
 Horrox must on no account get hold of them. If 
 Le Sale likes to have them he may, but no one else 
 shall.' 
 
 ‘ I’ll see to it, Castelli, trust me,' and she kissed 
 him again and again. 
 
 The bargain was struck, and Cleo began life 
 
230 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 again with the man for whom she had waited many 
 a long year. 
 
 ‘ Better go anyhow if I can’t be his wife. But 
 ril marry him yet, be hanged if I don’t.’ 
 
 She forgot the resolute nature of the man with 
 whom she had to deal, and that if she was deter- 
 mined he could be equally so. 
 
 A week later Vanda and Adrian were apprenticed 
 to Le Sale. Their few things had been packed, 
 and under Cleo’s charge they had been taken to 
 England and given over to the keeping of their new 
 master. They had shown little regret at leaving 
 their father. He had been away too much to have 
 had a chance of gaining their affections, and Vanda 
 did not mind where she went so long as Adrian 
 was with her. Added to this, their inexperience of 
 the life before them made them quite innocent of 
 any trouble or suffering which might be their lot 
 in the future. 
 
 At first they missed their freedom, and in con- 
 sequence they pined a little. The air of London 
 seemed to oppress them, and there were days when 
 Adrian cried to go home ; but on the whole they 
 were not unhappy. Le Sale had a wife and three 
 little children, who were all nice and gentle to the 
 strangers, and their master himself was very patient 
 and quiet over their first lessons on horseback. 
 Vanda rather enjoyed them, but to Adrian they 
 were a perfect torture. He wanted to paint and be 
 an artist, and it was with great difficulty that Vanda 
 persuaded him that ‘ all grand painters knew how 
 to ride.’ 
 
 ‘Yes,’ replied the child ; ‘ but father said we should 
 have to stay here until we were twenty-one years 
 of age. I should be too old to be a painter then, 
 and I hate the circus — I hate it all,’ and the tears 
 welled to his eyes as he spoke. 
 
A BROKEN PLEDGE. 
 
 231 
 
 Vanda did not reply, but that evening she told 
 her master how much her brother loved drawing 
 and painting, and Le Sale patted the boy kindly 
 on the back and told him he might be a painter 
 some day, but that he must do his best to learn to 
 ride and then he could paint in his leisure time. 
 
 For Le Sale’s apprentices were not slaves. There 
 were many hours in the day when their time was 
 their own, and Mrs Le Sale was particularly 
 motherly, and grew very fond and proud of 
 Vanda, and the child clung to her with all the 
 warmth of a young heart. Once, when Le Sale 
 looked grave because Vanda had given him in- 
 finite trouble in the ring, his wife openly took the 
 child’s part, saying, ‘You cannot expect her to be 
 perfection, Charles. She’s only a child, and has 
 no mother nor home to go to. I won’t have her 
 upset, so there ! ’ and Le Sale smiled kindly again 
 at Vanda, who was sobbing aloud. 
 
 ‘ There, don’t cry any more, child,’ he said sadly. 
 ‘ I am afraid I did get cross, but you were very 
 naughty indeed.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, yes, I know I was,’ and fresh sobs almost 
 choked her. 
 
 ‘ Be quiet, do, Charles,’ repeated his wife. ‘ Don’t 
 keep on jawing at the child. Can’t you let bygones 
 be bygones. I daresay she will be good to-morrow, 
 won’t you, Vanda?’ 
 
 But the child could not speak. Her sobs came 
 faster and faster, and then Mrs Le Sale said, — 
 
 ‘ Run off to bed, there’s a dear, and Adrian shall 
 bring up your supper, and don’t cry any more.’ 
 When she had left the room Mrs Le Sale turned 
 to her husband and said fretfully : ‘ I do wish we 
 could do without apprentices. I hope none of my 
 children will ever be trained for the ring. I’d rather 
 they stood at the wash tub in a laundry all day. 
 
232 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 It worries me to death to see Vanda cry like that. 
 I hope you didn’t beat her down at the circus.’ 
 
 His face flushed painfully and he replied, — 
 
 ' Annie, how can you ask me such a thing ? You 
 know I shouldn’t do that^ but she must do as I tell 
 her or she may meet with a terrible accident. She 
 must not play tricks with a horse. I cannot allow 
 it,’ he said more firmly. 
 
 ‘Well, I suppose you know best,’ replied Mrs Le 
 Sale with a sigh, for she almost worshipped her 
 gentle, delicate husband. ‘ But when I see a child 
 cry I feel as if my chest was being turned inside out. 
 I can’t help it, Charles,’ added the good woman. 
 
 ‘You’re a dear kind soul, but I assure you Vanda 
 had no need to be so upset. I am beginning to 
 fear she is not very strong. She tires so soon that 
 sometimes I feel she ought to be resting with you, 
 but I must train her, or Castelli will be down on me 
 like death.’ 
 
 ‘You’re looking pretty bad yourself, Charles. I 
 wish you could get strong,’ and she looked up 
 anxiously at his pale, thin cheeks, and for the first 
 time it struck her how much more delicate he looked 
 lately, and a sudden horror came over her. ‘ Do you 
 feel worse, dear } ’ she asked kindly. 
 
 ‘ More tired every day,’ he replied with a sigh. 
 ‘ I could hardly bear the fatigue of giving Vanda 
 her lesson to-day.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, you shall rest to-morrow. Surely someone 
 at the circus could attend to her for once ? Anyway, 
 you sha’n’t,’ she added decisively. 
 
 He smiled at her loving words and promised to 
 rest for just one day. 
 
 Alas ! it was a long day of rest, and only ended 
 when death called the toiler home. 
 
ANOTHER CHANGE. 
 
 233 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ANOTHER CHANGE. 
 
 HorrOX, at Cleo’s suggestion, had procured an 
 engagement in England so that he could keep his 
 eyes on the children and make his own plans to 
 get hold of them. It was some months before he 
 saw his way at all clear, and Castelli and Cleo had 
 sailed for Bombay, and he was left to manage the 
 scheme as well as he could without Cleo’s aid. 
 
 Wandering down to the circus one morning, he 
 learnt that Le Sale had broken a blood-vessel 
 and had been conveyed to the hospital, where he 
 lay in a precarious condition. He hurried thither 
 and found that the authorities of the consumptive 
 hospital allowed their patients to see visitors each 
 day at three o’clock in the afternoon. Duly at 
 this hour he presented himself to the sick man, 
 and with many protestations of sorrow at his mis- 
 fortune, he offered to undertake his apprentices 
 during the enforced absence from his duties. Le 
 Sale, feeling weak and ill, readily accepted what he 
 thought was a kindly offer. He forgot, in his ex- 
 treme suffering, the character he had heard of 
 Horrox and the severities practised upon those 
 who came under his regime, and the smiling, 
 bland man standing by the bedside did not remind 
 the dying artiste of any such danger to his young 
 apprentices. 
 
 ‘If you will take their practice I shall be very 
 grateful,’ said Le Sale feebly. ‘ They can live with 
 my wife and go to you at stated times. Annie 
 wouldn’t like to part with them,’ he added with 
 great effort. 
 
 But this did not suit the plans of the cruel and 
 
234 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 revengeful Horrox, and he replied with well-feigned 
 kindness. 
 
 ' Of course Til take their practice, that is what 
 I came to offer to do, but I think it would be a 
 great relief to your wife for me to take them to my 
 house. You see it will save her much expense 
 now you cannot work. It costs a sight to feed 
 two hearty children. If they come to me there is 
 an end to that, until you are strong again.' 
 
 Horrox knew too well that Le Sale would never 
 be well ; but to gain his dastardly ends he held out 
 the hope. 
 
 ‘Yes, I forgot Annie has not much money. It 
 will be best for you to take them for a bit, until I 
 am about again ; but I am afraid Annie won't like 
 them going,' he answered in a tired voice. 
 
 ‘ I think she will see it is best,' replied Horrox 
 curtly. 
 
 The sick man lay back on his pillows, gasping 
 for breath, and did not reply for a moment, and 
 then he said, — 
 
 ‘ I daresay she will. Two mouths are a great 
 deal to fill, and I can earn nothing now.' 
 
 ‘Very well, then, I will take them over, but you 
 had better just write a few lines telling your wife 
 they are to be given up to me until such times as 
 you can undertake them again.' 
 
 Horrox, as he spoke, drew a sheet of paper and 
 a pencil from his pocket, and placing the materials 
 as handy as he could for Le Sale to write, he waited 
 anxiously for the letter which would empower him 
 to take possession of the two hapless children. 
 
 Tremblingly Le Sale held the pencil and tried to 
 write the words which Horrox dictated, but he was 
 powerless to do so, and said feebly, — 
 
 ‘ I am afraid I cannot write — all my strength 
 has gone,' he said sadly. 
 
ANOTHER CHANGE. 235 
 
 ‘ Well, suppose I write it and you sign it,' said 
 Horrox cheerfully. 
 
 Le Sale nodded gratefully, and then Horrox 
 wrote : — 
 
 ‘ It is my wish that Vanda and Adrian Castelli, 
 apprenticed to me until they come of age, shall be 
 handed over to James Charles Horrox, to be trained 
 by him as acrobats and riders, until such time as I 
 can undertake them, when they shall be given up 
 at my demand, and all claims of James Charles 
 Horrox to the children's services shall be at once 
 forfeited.’ 
 
 He laid down the pencil and read the document 
 over to Le Sale, who said, quietly, — 
 
 ' Yes, that seems fair enough. I am satisfied.' 
 
 ‘ Now, you’ll try and sign it, and then I will,’ 
 replied Horrox kindly. 
 
 After many attempts Le Sale managed to put his 
 name in faint letters to the agreement, and then 
 below it Horrox wrote his, in a fine bold hand, 
 agreeing to take over the apprentices — a sad con- 
 trast to the quivering, shaky signature above. 
 
 ‘ Now, you need not worry about them whilst you 
 are ill,’ said Horrox gently ; ‘ they will be all right 
 with me.’ 
 
 ‘You must take care of Vanda,' whispered Le 
 Sale, for the business anxiety had made him feel 
 exhausted. ‘Vanda isn't very strong, don’t forget 
 that,’ he said pleadingly, and then after a pause he 
 continued : ‘The last evening I was at home she cried 
 dreadfully, I remember that, and when she came 
 here with Annie to see me she — looked white and ill.’ 
 
 He could say no more, and Horrox replied, — 
 
 ‘ I will take care of her, Le Sale. It wouldn’t 
 pay to do otherwise.’ 
 
 At that moment a nurse came up to Horrox and 
 
236 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 explained that his presence was disturbing her 
 patient and that he must be good enough to 
 leave him to rest. 
 
 Horrox was only too glad to follow her wishes. 
 He had got all he could from the sick man, and now 
 he did not care how soon the interview was ended. 
 The nurse followed him towards the door of the 
 long ward, and then Horrox asked her what chance 
 there was of the recovery of Le Sale. 
 
 ‘ None at all,’ she answered promptly ; ‘ it’s only 
 a matter of days. He is much weaker than he was.’ 
 
 ^ I am sorry,’ said Horrox cutely. ‘ The poor 
 fellow and I belong to the same profession, and we 
 have met off and on for many a year.’ 
 
 The nurse expressed no sympathy. Death to 
 her was nothing more than an event which occurred 
 daily — merely ‘ part of the business ’ for which she 
 had been trained. 
 
 Love and commiseration are not to be found in 
 hospital wards. 
 
 True all that human skill can devise is done for 
 those who lie at death’s door — true that nurses and 
 doctors ‘ do their duty.’ 
 
 Can one imagine it quite possible that tender- 
 hearted women could remain day after day with- 
 in sound of the moans wrung from the agonised 
 sufferings of their fellows, and witness sights which 
 make the blood run cold in the veins and the heart 
 sick with pain ? 
 
 After leaving the hospital Horrox wended his 
 way to Lambeth to claim his victims, but he met 
 with the greatest opposition from Le Sale’s irate 
 wife. 
 
 ‘My husband sent you here for Vanda and 
 Adrian ? I don’t believe a word of it, so there ! ’ 
 she replied in answer to Horrox’s demand for the 
 children. ‘ You think, because my husband’s ill. 
 
ANOTHER CHANGE. 
 
 237 
 
 you can come here and worry a forlorn woman, 
 but you’ve reckoned on the wrong card, my man. 
 You’ve no call to come here at all, so there!’ she 
 panted. 
 
 ‘ I’ve come for the brats, and I mean to have 
 them. I hold your husband’s authority to take 
 them with me at once,’ replied Horrox severely. 
 
 ‘ He hasn’t got any authority now he’s laid low, 
 and you’ll have to leave as you came, without ’em. 
 So just take yourself off my doorstep ; I’ve got 
 quite enough worry without cleaning it twice a day. 
 That’s the worst of being ground floor lodger, you’ve 
 got to do the cleaning down stairs.’ 
 
 Horrox took no notice of these remarks, but he 
 said more sternly, — 
 
 ‘My good woman. I’ve come for Vanda and 
 Adrian Castelli, and I shall not leave without 
 them.’ 
 
 ‘ Then you’ll stand there till you die. They are 
 not yours to have, and as to coming from my 
 husband, that’s all gibberish.’ 
 
 Mrs Le Sale had grown excited, and her voice in 
 consequence had risen to a high pitch, and much to 
 Horrox’s annoyance a small and curious group had 
 collected to ‘hear the fun.’ The dairyman had 
 ceased his cry of ‘ Milk ho ! ’ so that he could stand 
 to listen ; an errand boy whistling ‘ She lives in 
 Camden Town ’ paused in his melody, and putting 
 his basket on the pavement, leant against the iron 
 railings to see what was ‘ up.’ Suddenly he caught 
 sight of a ‘ pal,’ and he yelled out, ‘ Come and see 
 the old woman a-going it,’ and in answer to the 
 invitation a telegraph boy sauntered up, and forget- 
 ful of the importance of the missives stowed in his 
 little black pouch, he took his stand by the side of 
 his companion. 
 
 ‘ What’s the row ? ’ he asked. 
 
238 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ It’s a lodger that hasn’t paid his rent, I guess,’ 
 said the errand boy with glee. 
 
 ' I bet it’s a broker as can’t get in,’ answered the 
 other.’ 
 
 These and other remarks at last reached the ears 
 of Mrs Le Sale, and she exclaimed to her visitor, — 
 
 ‘ Come in, do ; can’t you see how we are being 
 stared at? We shall have the police here directly, 
 or the fire engines, to see what’s the matter. Wipe 
 your shoes,’ she continued, ^ and look where you are 
 going, the passage isn’t over light.’ 
 
 Horrox followed her into a small but well fur- 
 nished sitting-room, and when he was seated she 
 said, — 
 
 ‘You can’t see the children. Vanda is lying 
 down, she isn’t strong, and Adrian is painting — and 
 I sha’n’t disturb them,’ she added defiantly, looking 
 at his cold, cruel face with distrust. 
 
 ‘ Very well, madam, then I shall call in the police 
 to assist me. I hold a paper here which gives me 
 absolute control over your husband’s apprentices 
 until he is sufficiently recovered to continue their 
 training.’ 
 
 ‘ Let me see it,’ she asked with determination. 
 
 He pulled it from his pocket and showed her the 
 signature of her husband, and then he added, — 
 
 ‘ Can you deny my claim now ? The best thing 
 you can do is to get the children ready, and their 
 clothes and in half-an-hour I shall take them, ready 
 or not ready, or call the police.’ 
 
 Horrox had no intention of calling in any aid, 
 or to call attention in any way, his scheme and his 
 document was far too shaky to do that. But Mrs 
 Le Sale did not know that, and after seeing her 
 husband’s signature she collapsed entirely. 
 
 ‘ He always knows best,’ she cried, the tears in her 
 eyes, ‘ but it’s like parting with my own. I don’t 
 
ANOTHER CHANGE. 
 
 239 
 
 know what I shall do without Vanda, she is so use- 
 ful just now. Couldn’t they sleep at home, sir ? 
 You could have them all day,’ she pleaded. 
 
 ‘ They are going to Selchester with me this 
 evening, so once more let me remind you there is 
 no time to lose,’ said Horrox firmly. 
 
 Stifling her sobs, yet anxious to carry out her 
 husband’s wishes, she left the room and told the 
 children of the sudden change in the arrangements. 
 Both of them cried most bitterly, but Mrs Le Sale 
 told them how much her husband wanted them to 
 go, and that they should come back directly he was 
 well. ‘ You may only be away about a month after 
 all’ Thus reassured the children prepared for 
 their journey, and soon they were borne away from 
 the happiest home they had ever known, and their 
 lot in future was to be left to the tender mercies of 
 a brutal master. 
 
 ‘ Revenge at last,’ he muttered with an oath. 
 ‘They are mine.’ 
 
 Later a telegram was sent to Bombay. It bore 
 one word: ‘Settled.’ 
 
 Cleo was standing talking to Castelli when it 
 reached her. 
 
 She knew the meaning too well, but she told 
 Castelli it came from her English agent, and he 
 believed her then. 
 
 A week later Charles Le Sale died, after making 
 his wife promise that his children should not follow 
 his profession. This she gladly acceded to, and 
 then she was left to struggle on as she could. 
 
 Once, now and then, she grew anxious about 
 Vanda and Adrian, and thought she would write to 
 Castelli and tell him who had taken them from her 
 husband ; but one thing after another delayed her 
 kindly intention, and it was a very long time before 
 Castelli knew his children’s fate. 
 
240 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Alas ! for them earthly happiness was over, and 
 joy was turned to mourning. 
 
 Is it not always so ? 
 
 Why should hell, the oft favourite theme of poets 
 and painters, be portrayed beyond the limits of 
 this visible universe ? Why should its terrors, its 
 thunders, its curling flames, its forked lightning find 
 footing on speculation, and Fancy be used to depict 
 pain of soul and body, when hell is on the earth? 
 Can it be necessary to go to unknown realms to 
 find a hell, where the future of the sinner is to be 
 portioned out according to the manifold sins com- 
 mitted ? Fordoes it not exist around us in various 
 sections and forms, and are not Alecto, Megaera, 
 and Tysiphine, the supposed fiends of hell, around 
 us in other and natural forms, making our streets 
 the veritable paths of hell for the rake and the 
 giglot, the murderer and the thief? Is it not the 
 hell of earth which drives women to the dark, cold 
 river, and men to the cursed drink, and daughters 
 to the lair of the destroyer? Is there not hell for 
 men, women, and children in our slums, in the 
 bitter poverty, the cold and terrible sufferings of 
 sickness and death ? Are not the mysteries of hell 
 at work when little children are murdered, beaten, 
 and tortured by frenzied and drunken men of the 
 earth, or torn from loving hands and hurled into 
 the great chaos which makes up life, so that their 
 youth and beauty may pander to the amusement 
 of the morbid and the selfish ? For them, as for 
 others, hell is everywhere on earth. Its existence 
 lies in the mental and physical agony which must 
 be the lot of all. 
 
 Surely there is no need to paint another hell, full 
 of mythical sorrows, with awful and everlasting 
 punishments and pain? 
 
 There can be but one hell, and that has its abode 
 
ANOTHER CHANGE. 
 
 241 
 
 on earth, casting amongst the people terrible vices, 
 the scourge of sickness, the agonies of death, the 
 cruelties of separation, the hardships of poverty, 
 broken hearts, discarded love, disappointed hopes, 
 and ruined lives. 
 
 If these comprise not hell, what does? 
 
 Vanda and Adrian soon realised the horrors of 
 what was before them, and Horrox made no secret 
 of his brutality. 
 
 The first night he made Vanda turn out her 
 box, and then was discovered Adrian’s drawings, in 
 a small packet. 
 
 ‘What’s that?’ demanded Horrox fiercely. 
 
 ‘ Adrian’s sketches,’ replied the child timidly. 
 
 ‘ Give them to me>’ 
 
 V^anda hesitated for a moment. 
 
 ‘ Do you hear me ? ’ he thundered. 
 
 She handed him the treasures, so dear to her 
 heart, without speaking. 
 
 He unwrapped them, and the paper fell to the 
 ground, and then he quietly proceeded to tear them 
 across. 
 
 ‘ Don’t — please don’t do that, they belong to 
 Adrian — don’t tear them,’ she pleaded, quivering 
 with excitement. 
 
 ‘ They belong to me now,’ he replied with an 
 awful oath, ‘and you’ll both have something else 
 to think of now than a lot of damned daubs, and 
 so here goes,’ and he ruthlessly tore the rest 
 asunder. 
 
 Vanda burst into tears ; she was speechless with 
 fear and astonishment. 
 
 ‘ Now, if I ever catch your brother daubing here 
 I’ll thrash him until he can’t stand, or you — it 
 doesn’t matter a curse to me which it is — and give 
 me that paint-box and those books,’ said Horrox, 
 looking down into the box. 
 
 Q 
 
242 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Vanda did as she was told, and then she ventured 
 to plead for her brother. 
 
 'Adrian is so fond of painting. • Le Sale said he 
 would make an artist some day. Surely he may 
 paint when his work is over ? ^ 
 
 Horrox did not reply, excepting by an oath, and 
 giving Vanda a heavy blow. 
 
 She reeled for a moment and then fell to the 
 ground. She had fainted. 
 
 Nothing daunted, Horrox stood by until she 
 had recovered consciousness, and then he said, — 
 
 ' I shall paint you black and blue if you give me 
 any of your cheek — get off to bed.^ 
 
 Vanda and Adrian shared one room, and very 
 miserable it was after the clean apartment allotted 
 to them at the Le Sale’s ; but they were too miser- 
 able to care much, and it was the small hours of 
 the morning before they cried themselves to sleep. 
 
 Horrox had a permanent home near Selchester, 
 and in an outhouse at the back, he conducted all his 
 training. It was there that his hapless appren- 
 tices had to go through their bending, splits, 
 flip - flaps and other feats enough to cause 
 injury and strains to the strongest children, for 
 terrible is the nervous tension necessary to per- 
 form them accurately and gracefully. Locked in 
 this building, the absolute property of the master, 
 what outside help could reach his unfortunate 
 victims? Safe from public inspection, safe from 
 the intrusion of any, the training goes on to this 
 day without let or hindrance. 
 
 The secrets of the Inquisition were never more 
 carefully guarded than are the practice hours of 
 children preparing for the ' show ’ business, where 
 they work continually until they are sufficiently 
 advanced for public exhibition. 
 
 To this room Vanda and Adrian were taken the 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 243 
 
 day after their arrival, and Horrox began his brutal 
 ‘ instructions ’ for the contortion business, the most 
 painful and degrading avocation of all, the training 
 for which makes modesty die for ever. 
 
 Oh ! the labour and pain of these feats, which 
 the public applaud, cost the weary little children 
 and the languid, growing girl, whose tender frame 
 has to assume positions which are absolutely con- 
 trary to those for which nature has fitted her. 
 
 It is time that those who enjoy such perform- 
 ances should realise this, and understand what has 
 been endured for their selfish edification. 
 
 But the multitude have taken no counsel as yet, 
 and the wisdom which would prevent young chil- 
 dren from performing such hazardous feats is still 
 wanting ; it will be found some day, and then the 
 dark shadows will pass from girlish hearts, and 
 child labour for the amusement of the people will 
 cease for ever. 
 
 But the time is not yet. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 So strong was the spirit of revenge implanted in 
 Horrox that he was ready to inflict any punish- 
 ment on the children to exact satisfaction, under a 
 sense of injury which he felt sure their mother had 
 been the means of doing him. His anxiety to re- 
 turn evil for evil had grown with years, and now 
 his opportunity had come to wreak vengeance upon 
 Vanda and Adrian. In his malignant spirit he for- 
 got that kindness might make them ' score big,’ and 
 that they might prove a gold mine to him, for both 
 
244 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 were gifted with refined beauty, but for the first 
 time in his life he did not care whether his appren- 
 tices survived their severe training or not. 
 
 Revenge, for once, was sweeter than great gain. 
 
 Is it not true, as has often been remarked, that 
 Providence seems to darken the understanding 
 and to depress the spirits of criminals, and hence 
 the origin of misery and depravity? And was not 
 Horrox's a hideous crime, which deserved the great- 
 est punishment that earthly judges can inflict? 
 Should they not say with Cicero, 'perish that power 
 which has been obtained by evil means, retained 
 by similar practices, and which is administered 
 as badly it was acquired ? ' 
 
 But the law does not help weak children when 
 training for the people's amusement, because it 
 cannot penetrate into the haunts where the children 
 undergo their suffering. The masters take care of 
 that, and smile in secret at the protection which 
 their hapless apprentices could rightfully claim. 
 
 Who is there to hear the stifled sobs of suffering? 
 Who can catch the plaintive voices crying for 
 mercy, and pleading vainly to the taskmaster? 
 Who can save the children from the cuts of the 
 thin white thong ? 
 
 As yet, no one. For alone and in secret the 
 deeds are done, so that the people may rejoice and 
 pass pleasant hours in watching dangerous and 
 degrading feats ; from which they would guard their 
 own precious, petted offspring, who cry because 
 they have every selfish whim gratified, and fret be- 
 cause they cannot think of some further luxury. 
 
 True there is a law for the protection of children 
 in the slums and alleys, in the baby farm, in 
 orphanages and public schools — true a licence 
 must be forthcoming before a child can perform in 
 a play. 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 245 
 
 But where is the law which protects the children 
 during the months of training which is conducted in 
 private ? Surely a public performance is nothing 
 compared to the hardships of training? Yet 
 there is protection for one, but not for the other. 
 The law offers its aid when the evil has been 
 accomplished. 
 
 But there is One above, says the Christian, who 
 guards little children from harm ? 
 
 In luxurious homes, yes. 
 
 But why is mercy meted out to some and not to 
 all ? Why should shame and labour fall with 
 merciless hands upon two sinless children ? And 
 why does it not come to the lot of those who to 
 this day make pleasure for the people ? 
 
 Is it fair that some children should labour and 
 suffer that others may sit and enjoy? 
 
 The weary ones could cry with Codrus, who 
 had served God all his life, when he found his 
 beautiful library at the Palace in Forli razed to the 
 ground, with all his valuable treasures, his speeches, 
 letters, and poems gone to ashes: 'Christ Jesus, 
 what mighty crime have I committed ? Whom 
 of your followers have I ever injured that you thus 
 rage with inexpiable hatred against me ? ’ 
 
 From the sawdust that expression of pain and 
 distress should rise, for have not the children the 
 right to ask where is the God which Codrus served? 
 And are the joys of heaven, His mercy, and infinite 
 power reserved only for those who are rich in this 
 world ? 
 
 What reply can these placid Christians give to 
 the overworked, wan, sickly girls who pander to 
 their amusements? The Church of God is largely 
 represented at all circus performances. 
 
 But those who have a knowledge of spiritual 
 things are discreet, and silence reigns where the 
 
246 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 voices should rise with one accord, crying : ‘ God 
 is everywhere. His love shall shield you, His 
 strong arm shall protect you, His peace must rest 
 upon you now and for ever.’ 
 
 But instead there is an awkward pause — a cessa- 
 tion of voices, for they dare not give that answer 
 to the Lslaves of the sawdust.’ Alas, alas! though 
 such is truth as taught to the rich, dees not the 
 existence of the evil prove the fallacy of the 
 teaching ? 
 
 There is very little mercy shown to-day in the 
 methods pursued by some of the masters behind 
 the scenes, and Vanda and Adrian received none. 
 
 Friendless and alone, in the hands of a brute 
 who would disgrace any respectable circus, the 
 children underwent the greatest pain and degrada- 
 tion. Attired in tight-fitting 'fleshings’ only, Vanda 
 and Adrian were made to practise all the indigni- 
 ties necessary for those who become contortionists. 
 Their limbs had to be made supple by the most 
 cruel and artificial means, and to these measures 
 Horrox for spite was delighted to resort. 
 
 One morning, when he had forced Vanda into a 
 most unnatural position, she fainted away from the 
 effect of the intense torture it caused her. 
 
 She lay on the hard floor deathly white, and only 
 the slight heaving of her chest showed she still 
 breathed. 
 
 Horrox took no notice of her. He knew per- 
 fectly well that her age made it more painful for 
 her to undergo the straining of limbs and back 
 than if she had been younger and therefore more 
 pliable. At the same time he was aware that 
 suppleness and grace for the trapeze could be 
 acquired no other way, and therefore it must be 
 done, even if the agony of distorting her limbs 
 made her suffer the greatest possible pain that 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 247 
 
 could be borne. He knew she would faint every 
 time he put her through the ' splits/ but it did not 
 disconcert him in the least, and he turned his atten- 
 tion to the boy. 
 
 ‘ Now then, you young rascal, it’s your turn/ he 
 cried fiercely. 
 
 ‘ Look at Vanda, she must be dead/ said a weak 
 voice, whilst the tears coursed down his wan cheeks. 
 'Vanda, Vanda!’ he repeated; 'dear Vanda, do 
 speak to me I ’ he sobbed. 
 
 A stinging cut came from the white thong, caus- 
 ing him intolerable pain. 
 
 ' There ! take that for your answer,’ he said with 
 an awful oath ; ' and now to your work — quick, 
 or you’ll get another stroke.’ 
 
 Adrian recommenced his performance of walking 
 on his hands and feet with his body bent back- 
 wards, the pain of the horrible distortion making 
 great beads of perspiration break out on his fore- 
 head, saturating the curly locks which had been so 
 dear to his mother’s heart. 
 
 ‘ Oh ! you’ve come to your senses again, have 
 you, you confounded fool 1 Now, we’ll go at it 
 again/ he said cruelly, utterly regardless of the 
 girl’s white face. He took hold of her roughly ; 
 she was cold, and trembled very much. But Horrox 
 took no notice beyond remarking that 'he would 
 give her something to make her hot if she didn’t 
 leave off.’ 
 
 ' I cannot do the " splits ” again to-day/ she said 
 with anguish in her voice ; ‘the pain is terrible.’^ 
 
 * However kind the master, the pain suffered by those girls under- 
 going training for the contortionist’s business is simply torture, and 
 a disgrace to Christian England. The ‘ boneless ’ man or woman 
 has had to suffer hell upon earth before the wrenching of the muscles 
 is complete and they are fitted to accomplish their degrading feats. 
 ‘ Splits ’ for women should be prohibited by law from exhibition in 
 public amusements. 
 
248 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ Oh, won't you come? Well, here goes,' and he 
 placed her in position, extending her legs sideways 
 until she was sitting on the floor. He then put a 
 powerful hand on each shoulder, and kept her 
 firmly to the ground, regardless of her cries to him 
 to let her move, if but ‘ for one moment.' 
 
 But he was relentless, until her head fell forwards 
 on her chest ; she had fainted again. 
 
 ‘ You cursed fool ! ' he hissed, ' I will break every 
 bone in your body if you don't leave off this game.' 
 
 But Vanda never heard his threat, or the volley 
 of oaths which fell from his lips. She only moaned 
 feebly once or twice, when Horrox roughly put her 
 into her natural shape again. Adrian meanwhile 
 stood petrified at his sister's condition, but not daring 
 to speak one word on her behalf 
 
 Vanda continued so long in her faint that Horrox 
 at last became alarmed, and he hurried from the 
 room to fetch a glass of water. The very moment 
 he was gone Adrian rushed to where his. sister 
 lay motionless, and throwing himself down in a 
 paroxysm of grief, he cried, — 
 
 Wanda, Vanda, dear, dear Vanda, do look at 
 me ! Open your eyes, Vanda ! Don't you know I 
 am Adrian ? Do, do speak to me ! ' he pleaded, and 
 the child's hot tears fell on the pink cotton flesh- 
 ings, leaving great spots here and there. 
 
 But Vanda neither moved nor spoke, her lips 
 uttered no words of love to her distressed brother. 
 
 With a grasp of despair he flung his arms around 
 her, and shook her gently, but still she showed no 
 si^ns of returning consciousness, and when Horrox 
 returned he found Adrian sobbing loudly and 
 bending over his sister, distraught with grief 
 
 ‘ Get up, you howling fool ! ’ said Horrox grasping 
 the child and flinging him away from the prostrate 
 form, uttering a fearful oath as he did so. 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 249 
 
 With no gentle hand he poured the cool water 
 down Vanda's throat, and at last she opened her eyes 
 and a faint colour returned to the haggard cheeks. 
 
 For a moment she forgot where she was, and she 
 just murmured, — 
 
 ‘ I thought it was Adrian standing by me.' 
 
 ‘ Then, you see, it's me, so just get up,' he said 
 roughly. She rose with an effort, and he placed 
 her in a chair. ' Sit there till I am ready for you. 
 
 The child obeyed, too ill and weary to be afraid 
 of what was to come, and then Horrox went up to 
 Adrian and demanded fiercely, — 
 
 ‘What were you blubbering about just now^, 
 making a fool of yourself — eh, answer me? Do 
 you hear me ? ' he roared as the child ventured no 
 reply. 
 
 ‘ I was so sorry for Vanda, sir ; she will die here, 
 I am sure,' and he sobbed again. 
 
 ‘ Sorry, were you, now I'll make you sorry for 
 yourself' 
 
 And he took the boy by the arm and dragged 
 him to the table where the white-thonged whip 
 lay, and then he applied it mercilessly about 
 the child’s body, until the youthful crimson blood 
 came through the ‘fleshings,' leaving hideous marks 
 on the pale pink covering. Vanda closed her eyes. 
 She could not bear the sickening sight. His sup- 
 pressed moans of pain struck a chill to her heart. 
 She did not want to see the blows descend.* 
 
 ‘There, now,' said Horrox in a satisfied tone, 
 laying down the whip, ‘ that's what you get for 
 interfering and whining like a puppy, as you are,' 
 he said with contempt. 
 
 The child sobbed, he was too weak to speak. 
 
 ‘ Now, then, both of you, come along,' called 
 
 * The incident of the beating until the blood came is no highly 
 coloured imagination, but a positive fact. 
 
250 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Horrox, walking towards the bars, and then Vanda 
 dared to protest. 
 
 ‘My hands are too sore for that to-day,’ she replied 
 gently, looking down at the large wounds across 
 the palms, caused by the broken blisters which 
 had weeks before been raised by the friction of 
 the powdered resin on her hands and on the 
 bars. These sores take weeks and weeks to heal ; 
 but Vanda suffered no worse than the rest in 
 her initiate. 
 
 ‘You must jolly well get used to that,’ replied 
 Horrox. ‘ No nonsense, begin at once.’ 
 
 Delay and protestations were alike unavailing, 
 and the children began their practice. Very soon 
 the bar bore traces of blood. Vanda’s sores had 
 been broken again ; but Horrox took no heed of 
 the incident, and he relieved her no sooner from 
 her arduous task.* 
 
 And so the long days dragged on, the night came, 
 but the children dreading the dawn, because another 
 awful day must be lived through. One morning, 
 during the hurried breakfast hour, Vanda ventured 
 to ask Horrox when they were likely to return to 
 their old master Le Sale. The hope of that had 
 kept up their spirits during many a saddened day. 
 
 ‘ He’s dead weeks ago,’ replied Horrox with a 
 smile. ‘You belong to me now, my lady,’ he said 
 with a sneer. 
 
 Vanda turned very white ; she gave Adrian one 
 hopeless look of despair, which Horrox noticed at 
 once. 
 
 ‘ Ah, I don’t spoil you like Le Sale did, do I ? ’ 
 he asked meaningly. 
 
 ‘ He was very kind to us,’ replied Vanda quietly. 
 
 * A celebrated lady gymnast has told the author that the bars of 
 the trapeze have blood stains upon them, until the hands of the 
 young performers are hardened. 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 251 
 
 ‘ Made regular noodles of you both/ said Horrox; 
 but we don’t go in for that sort of cant here, do 
 we?’ 
 
 Vanda gulped down a lump which had risen in 
 her throat and said, — 
 
 ‘I should like to write to Mrs Le Sale, if I 
 may ? ’ she pleaded. 
 
 ‘ No, you may not, so there is an end to that/ he 
 replied curtly. 
 
 Vanda said nothing, but she determined to write 
 a few lines, and trust to some chance of posting 
 them. She would not give the address for fear Mrs 
 Le Sale had left the old home and the letter should 
 be returned, and then the fury of Horrox would 
 fall upon her, and some dreadful punishment would 
 sure to be her lot for disobedience to his orders. 
 
 Adrian and Vanda talked over plan after plan in 
 whispers when they went to bed. At last Vanda 
 determined to try if the dirty little ‘ slavey ’ of their 
 lodgings would post her letter and hold her tongue, 
 but the difficulty was to find out whether she was 
 loyal or not. 
 
 Sally had been taken from a London workhouse, 
 and had unfortunately fallen into the hands of a 
 hard, selfish old woman who let her rooms to pro- 
 fessionals. Two years before she had come across 
 Horrox, and he had decided to make her house his 
 headquarters, so that she withdrew her advertise- 
 ment in the papers under the heading oL professional 
 apartments/ and settled down, prepared to take her 
 rent and mind her own business, and she took good 
 care that Sally should do the same. 
 
 ‘You talk to my lodgers, and I’ll take the skin 
 off your back.’ 
 
 This suited Horrox, for there was no chance of 
 his apprentices finding sympathy from landlady or 
 drudge. 
 
252 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 But Sally Pike had a heart ; the workhouse 
 schools had not quite robbed her of that, and 
 although she was only known as one hundred and 
 two, and sent out into the streets with the uniform 
 which stamps children as homeless and poverty 
 stricken, she retained an affectionate disposition if 
 anyone cared to win her love. 
 
 In the workhouse schools love lies dead. It in 
 no way enters the curriculum of the educational 
 advantages. It is not considered necessary for 
 'pauper children,’ yet Sally had loved in her heart 
 one or two of her companions, and when she went 
 to service she was anxious to love her mistress; but, 
 to her bitter vexation, Mrs Jane Carter resented 
 what she called familiarities, and Sally soon be- 
 came the slave of a harsh woman. From early 
 morning until late at night she toiled, receiving no 
 thanks, and bearing constant complaints with stoical 
 indifference. Once or twice she had smiled at 
 Vanda and said a kind word to her, but the chance 
 came very seldom. One day, however, Vanda 
 caught sight of Sally coming upstairs, and putting 
 up her finger, she beckoned to her, whilst she placed 
 a finger of the other hand on her lips to let Sally 
 understand she must be silent. 
 
 Sally put down her brush quietly, and stole noise- 
 lessly to where Vanda stood, her poor thin shoes 
 being excellent for that purpose. A slatternly 
 figure she looked standing by the unique beauty of 
 Vanda, with her erect figure and refined bearing. 
 Sally’s hair was red, and hung about her face in 
 rough clusters, whilst the rest was gathered together 
 and tied with a piece of black tape at the back of 
 her head ; her apron was ragged and dirty, and her 
 old black dress was pinned over to make it fit, for 
 it had been made for her stout mistress, and had 
 undergone no alteration. To shorten the length, it 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 253 
 
 was tucked under the band, making the child look 
 like a dancing dervish. Her sleeves were tucked 
 up to her elbows, leaving her red and begrimed arms 
 quite bare ; her hands were raw looking, with cuts 
 and unhealed chilblains, and were greasy and black 
 from washing the household saucepans. When 
 Vanda beckoned her, the girl had put up her hand 
 to tidy her hair, leaving as she did so a smudge on 
 her freckled, uncleansed face. 
 
 ‘ Where is Horrox ? ' asked Vanda cautiously. 
 
 ' A-quarrelling along of the mistress,’ said the 
 girl in a whisper, a smile coming over her woe- 
 begone face. 
 
 ‘ Where is he said Vanda hurriedly, 
 
 ‘ In missis’ best parlour. He says as how we’s 
 took the tea for our own use, and he ain’t going to 
 buy two pounds a week for we to use it. Missis 
 often do borrower his tea ; she calls it borrower, 
 but she don’t ever put it back. It’s like the brandy — 
 she nips up a drop of his now and agin, when you’s 
 all out ; and we often has a shovel or two of the 
 coals sint up to you, but she charges for a scuttle 
 all the same ; and she puts one egg into the pudding 
 and charges Mister Horrox for two. “ Perks ” she 
 calls them, but I guess it’s stealing, ain’t it ? ’ and 
 she grinned all over her face, as if it was some satis- 
 faction to tell of her mistress’s misdeeds. 
 
 ‘Nevermind all that,’ whispered Vanda ; ‘come 
 into my room, I want you. Horrox may be here 
 directly.’ 
 
 ‘No, he won’t. When he hollers at mistress he’s 
 a good time coming round, and she’ll ’ave to take 
 somethink off the bill. A real rumpus takes a good 
 time to settle. Missis won’t. Mister Horrox won’t, 
 and that’s how they gits to a rigular row.’ 
 
 She followed Vanda, and when the door was 
 closed she waited for her to speak. 
 
254 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ Sally, I want you to do me a very great favour, 
 and not to tell anyone. Mind, not a soul is to 
 know ; it’s quite a secret between you and me.’ 
 
 Sally nodded her shaggy, unkept head and whis- 
 pered mysteriously, — 
 
 ' Is it anything to do with a young man, miss? ’ ^ 
 
 Vanda gave a sad smile and replied, — 
 
 ‘ No, Sally, I had a very dear friend once, and 
 since I came here I must not write to her. Her 
 husband is dead now, and she has no one to love 
 her. It would make her happy to have this letter. 
 Will you post it for me ?’ said Vanda, holding the 
 precious missive in her hands. 
 
 ‘ Yes, sure I will ; but s’pose the hanswer comes 
 back, they’ll want to know who posted it, and then I 
 shall git it pretty ’ot,’ said the girl in a frightened voice. 
 
 ‘ I have given no address ; it’s only to let her 
 know I am alive.’ 
 
 ' Was you ever so fond of ’er, miss?’ asked Sally 
 sadly. 
 
 ‘Yes, yes; she was a mother to me,’ responded 
 Vanda wearily. 
 
 ‘ Give it us,’ said Sally. ‘ I’ll post ’im, and hold 
 my tongue. I’m blowed if I’ll split’ 
 
 She took the letter and put it down the neck of 
 her dress, and shook herself once or twice until it 
 slipped between her underlinen and her unwashed 
 skin. 
 
 ' There, ’e’ll rest there, safe as a gun, until I gits 
 out, and then I’ll post it in the first piller I gets to,’ 
 said Sally, satisfied. 
 
 ‘ But when will that be? ’ asked Vanda, anxious 
 that her letter should not be delayed or be left to 
 fall into other hands. 
 
 ‘Well, missis ’ad some ’errins in this morning, 
 and she said as ’ow I had to go and change ’em — 
 they smells orful, and we give three harf-pence for 
 
BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 255 
 
 two of 'em — they’s for dinner, so missis must send 
 me soon, and then I’ll go in the scullery and wrop 
 them up, and betwixt the two your letter 'ull set 
 nicely. None of them 'ull guess that a letter is in 
 with the 'errins, and Fll take it out afore I gets to 
 the fish shop,’ said Sally with a chuckle. 
 
 ‘And you will tell no one, Sally?’ 
 
 ‘ No fears of that. I writ to the baker’s boy once, 
 and missis don’t know to this day, that she don’t — 
 Sally Pike ain’t a fool.’ 
 
 ‘ I have nothing to give you, Sally, for your 
 trouble — I wish I had — I haven’t another penny 
 left. The stamped envelope I had by me ; Mrs 
 Le Sale put it in for me to write to say we got to 
 Manchester safely, but I could not manage to post 
 it before.’ 
 
 ‘You can give one thing, miss, if you will,’ said 
 Sally shyly, ‘ it don’t cost anything, not even a 
 penny.’ 
 
 ‘ What is it, Sally ? ’ 
 
 ‘ A kiss, miss, just one kiss. I’m awfully lonely 
 at times, and I often wishes there was some one to 
 give me a good hearty smack. I ain’t ’ad a kiss 
 since I came here, and that’s nigh on two years. 
 I’d like to ’ave one just to see ’ow it feels,’ she 
 added with pathos. 
 
 Vanda looked at the dirty face before her, and 
 for a moment she shrank from the task. 
 
 The girl saw the look, and read the truth in a 
 moment. Taking up her apron, she passed it across 
 her mouth once or twice, saying, — 
 
 ‘ There, it’s quite clean now. Miss Vander.’ 
 
 Vanda was ashamed of having hesitated, and 
 she kissed the girl two or three times passionately, 
 as if glad herself to have found a friend in the 
 squalid little slavey. 
 
 ‘That’s real like ’eaven,’ said the girl. ‘Now, 
 
256 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 I don’t care if I don’t git another kiss till I’m 
 married, that I don’t’ 
 
 Vanda smiled and replied, — 
 
 ‘ I will always kiss you when I can, but you won’t 
 mind if I ask you to go now, will you ? I am afraid 
 we may be caught’ 
 
 ‘ ’Pon my soul. I’ll go, and now — ’ But before she 
 had finished speaking heavy footsteps were heard 
 coming up the stair case. 
 
 ‘ That’s ’im,’ said Sally, and Vanda turned deadly 
 white with anxiety. 
 
 ‘ Do go, Sally, go ; do go at once,’ she urged. But 
 Sally whisked off her apron and made for the 
 window, which she began to clean with vigour. At 
 this moment Horrox opened the door in search of 
 Vanda. 
 
 He looked at her, and then at the servant, but he 
 could read nothing in their faces to lead him to 
 suppose that they had spoken to each other. Vanda 
 looked as depressed as ever, and Sally seemed 
 absorbed in her work ; apparently they apppeared 
 innocent of each other’s presence. 
 
 ‘ Come into the sitting-room. What right have you 
 to be in the bedroom? Get out at once,’ said Horrox, 
 angrily pushing her as he spoke, ‘ and come to your 
 work, both of you, quick.’ 
 
 Even Horrox’s love of revenge was satisfied as 
 he watched them droop day by day, pitiable wrecks 
 of their former beauty. 
 
 But help was at hand, the days of their suffering 
 were drawing to a close. Many other children’s 
 days of labour would be ended if selfish sightseers 
 would only say they should be. 
 
 But they will not. 
 
 Yet these people writhe in holy horror and in- 
 dignation at the mention of a Spanish bull-fight, 
 and protest loudly against the iniquitous cruelty. 
 
ON THE trail. 
 
 25; 
 
 Nothing would persuade these fastidious, highly 
 cultured ladies to witness a scene likely to upset 
 their delicate nerves. ‘ They really couldn’t.' 
 
 But they enjoy seeing young girls perform at 
 perilous heights, there can be no harm in that ; but 
 bull-fights are so cruel. 
 
 Why? Where is the difference? Where does 
 the definition of cruelty commence ? where is the 
 limit ? These people reply with one accord, the 
 bull may kill horse and rider, its own gore will 
 run in a crimson stream in the ring where it stands 
 to be goaded to despair and frenzy, this they must 
 see ; but the gymnast has bled in secret, and been 
 goaded to pass through perils often beyond ‘her 
 physical endurance, but as this does not occur in 
 public, so the previous torture is nothing to these 
 sentimental beings, who detest cruelty when it in- 
 terferes with their personal comfort. They do not 
 even insist upon what that enlightened emperor 
 Marcus Aurelius commanded, that persons per- 
 forming on tight-ropes, and otherwise, at daring 
 heights should be protected by a net under- 
 neath. 
 
 But he was humane. 
 
 They are not. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 ‘ I AM tired of wandering, Whanks. I think I shall 
 go back to the old country and see who are living 
 and who are gone for ever. There may be some 
 mistake about Leila being dead ; reports are never 
 very trustworthy, and if she is dead, poor thing, 
 R 
 
SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 258 
 
 there are the children to see to ; it is the least I can 
 do for her.’ 
 
 ‘ Fm afraid it’s too true, sir. Ringens is the 
 only one I have written to from here, and he sent 
 out every particular of her death. It was a com- 
 fort to think your father was with her. Fm sure, 
 sir, it was best that we heard of both their deaths 
 through his letters, or maybe going to the old 
 country would have been a chapter of disappoint- 
 ments. We know the worst, and that’s something 
 to be grateful for,’ said Whanks with gratitude. 
 
 ‘ But there’s always hope, Whanks, that some 
 mistake has arisen, and then, as I said before, there 
 are the children.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, and there’s the cuss of their father to deal 
 with. I reckon they are with him, and being made 
 useful by this time. Circus folk don’t keep the 
 children at home with nothing to do — you see, sir, 
 it’s business to make every honest penny they can.’ 
 During Tom and Whanks’ acquaintance very 
 little had been said of Leila or her married life. 
 Before Whanks had come across Tom he had re- 
 ceived full tidings of Leila’s death and that of her 
 father from Ringens, who had from time to time 
 written out to the faithful servant such news as 
 would be likely to interest him. 
 
 ‘ I believe she died from a broken heart,’ he 
 wrote, and Whanks repeated that over and over 
 again, the tears often coursing down his cheeks, 
 and he would cry with sorrow, — 
 
 ‘ I wish to God I had never left her to face it out, 
 poor thing; but my aunt’s money tempted me out, 
 and the drink would have ruined me at home. 
 Oh, Miss Leila ! Miss Leila ! ’ 
 
 He tore up the letters which bore the sad news. 
 
 ‘ Bad enough to have to think of it without hav- 
 ing it in writing, as if I was likely to forget her,’ 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 259 
 
 he said with bitterness ; and so when Tom asked to 
 see the letters Whanks had none to show him, and 
 from that time Tom refused to believe his sister 
 and father were dead. 
 
 * But surely the father won’t mind their uncle 
 seeing them. There’s no mystery, I suppose, is 
 there ? ’ he asked impatiently. 
 
 ‘ A goodish deal, I expect, sir, a goodish deal,’ 
 he repeated mechanically. 
 
 ‘ Don’t you believe my sister was married to this 
 infernal rider, or ring* master, or whatever he is? 
 If she was, where can the mystery be?’ said Tom 
 with rising anger. 
 
 ‘ I told you, Mr Tom, that I saw Leila Gurney 
 made Castelli’s lawful wife. If going to church and 
 swearing to do this, that, and t’other makes man 
 and wife, then your sister was married tight enough. 
 I’ve said many times, sir, that I was one of the 
 witnesses at the ceremony, and if you think I wasn’t, 
 well, you must,’ said Whanks in an injured voice. 
 
 ‘ I don’t doubt you, Whanks, but when you talk 
 of mysteries, and the children as if there was a 
 doubt of my getting at them, I don’t know what 
 to think,’ he replied doubtfully. 
 
 ‘ Not evil of my Miss Leila, anyway,’ said Whanks, 
 waxing hot, ‘ and the mystery is soon put right. 
 When Miss Leila died, God bless her ! the little 
 ones would be left on Castelli’s hands, and I bet he 
 wouldn’t be bothered with them, and very likely 
 he has parted with them to some man for good 
 and all.’ 
 
 ‘ Done what? ’ said Tom in astonishment. 
 
 ‘ Given them over to someone to train for the 
 ring or the trapeze ; that’s quite common amongst 
 our set,’ replied Whanks coolly. 
 
 ‘ Well, if he has parted with them, I suppose they 
 are to be found,’ said Tom with determination. 
 
26 o slaves of the sawdust. 
 
 Whanks shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 ‘ Ah, sir, you don’t know as much as I do about 
 the ‘‘profession.” No convent ever kept young 
 women as close as the artiste does his appren- 
 tices. There isn’t much chance of the outside world 
 seeing what goes on, I can tell you, and ten to one 
 Vanda and Adrian are kept hard at work, and never 
 allowed out of their trainer’s sight, that’s the rule.’ 
 
 ‘All the more reason why we should go to 
 England at once. Should you have any idea where 
 to begin to search for them, Whanks?’ asked Tom 
 with anxiety. 
 
 ‘ To a T. I bet I could lay my hands upon them 
 in a week, provided they were in England. I know 
 one or two who could put me up to the dodge at 
 once. If they are to be found, I’m the man,’ 
 replied Whanks with confidence. 
 
 ‘ Then I hope you will agree to come along back 
 to the old country, and I propose we start as soon 
 as possible with the mail bags, for although not 
 too comfortable, I am fidgeting to get on, for in 
 my present state of mind “ trecking ” would simply 
 drive me mad.’ 
 
 ‘All right! I shall be just as glad to see her 
 children as you can be, God bless them 1 ’ 
 
 A few days later found them well on their way — 
 perhaps as comfortless a journey as could be taken 
 in any part of the world, for when Tom and 
 Whanks tried it ; there was no accommodation for 
 passengers with the mails. They had to do the 
 best they could, and sit or lie about upon the bags, 
 irrespective of hard, angular parcels which were 
 being borne to friends far away. At various posts 
 the horses and drivers were changed, but the 
 miserable passengers were never changed — no such 
 luck befel them, rest there was none, and the only 
 sleep they could obtain was short, and taken alter- 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 261 
 
 nately, when one would watch that the sleeping 
 comrade did not fall into the road, as the callous 
 drivers on passing a piece of rough road would 
 suddenly whip up the team of horses with their 
 long rhympie whips. To suit themselves, the 
 drivers could often be most tantalisingly slow, 
 which maddened Tom almost to frenzy, but like 
 their confreres at home they had the happy habit 
 of coming up to the post-station as though the 
 whole journey had been conducted at the rate of 
 twenty miles an hour. 
 
 Everything pleasant, everything miserable has 
 an end, either on the earth or in the grave — even 
 such a journey as Tom and Whanks had ex- 
 perienced — and both were glad to find themselves 
 on board one of the Donald Currie steamers, where 
 Whanks in particular appreciated the luxury of the 
 saloon after the years of roughing it in different 
 circuses and in a strange land. 
 
 He was a rich man now, and riches not birth 
 bring comfort. 
 
 During the voyage home Tom had made up his 
 mind to know more of Leila’s domestic life, and 
 of the life she had lived amongst the circus folk. 
 Like most people he had no idea of the ‘ behind the 
 scenes,’ and there was much he wished to be made 
 acquainted with. Sitting on the deck one day with 
 Whanks, he broached the subject, 
 
 ‘Whanks!’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir.’ Whanks had always adopted a tone 
 of respect towards Tom, and once when Tom had 
 told him that they were friends, and not master 
 and servant, Whanks had replied, — 
 
 ‘ But you are Miss Leila’s brother, and that’s 
 enough for me,’ and he never omitted the ‘sir’ when 
 addressing him. 
 
 ‘Tell me candidly zvas Leila happy with her 
 
262 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 husband ? Don’t hide the truth. I wish to know 
 exactly how she lived. She was my only sister.’ 
 Whanks hesitated. He did not like to tell Tom 
 how the beautiful girl had grown daily more white 
 and thin ; he was almost afraid to repeat the words 
 of anguish which burst from her lips one morning 
 at the circus, when she thought no one was rear : 
 ^My God, spare me more misery; I cannot bear it.’ 
 Tom noticed his reluctance, and continued, — 
 
 ‘ Are you afraid to tell me of all my sister 
 suffered.^ Have I not the right to know?’ he 
 added sadly. 
 
 ‘You have the right, sir, I can’t deny that, but 
 she’s gone now, poor thing, and what’s the use of 
 making your life miserable as well as hers? ’ 
 
 ‘ Then she was miserable?’ said Tom ; ‘you have 
 acknowledged as much.’ 
 
 Whanks nodded, and then added, — 
 
 ‘ She was, so there’s no use to make out other- 
 wise. She was gentle, good, and kind ; he was 
 brutal, perfectly brutal, and didn’t understand her. 
 I’ve heard him use the most filthy language to her. 
 At last she grew quite afraid of him, and a coldness 
 seemed to spring up between them The fact was, 
 he soon tired of his lady wife — the pig and the 
 dove can’t mate together; you may try it, but I 
 reckon the pig is a pig to the last, and never learns 
 the coo of the doye. And so it was with Castelli. 
 He couldn’t learn Miss Leila’s sweet ways. When 
 she cooed, he grunted, and so matters grew worse. 
 She never said much to me, but I twigged a good 
 deal, and I watched her pretty closely ; but I think 
 the worst trouble of all was that her husband took a 
 good deal of notice of a woman, Cleo by name, whom 
 he saw a good deal of — a regular bad one, I can 
 tell you, who did her best to get my master to take 
 on with hen Ah, she was a bad one,’ he repeated. 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 263 
 
 ‘ And did Castelli do anything so vile as to pay 
 attentions to this Cleo woman and to forget my 
 sister? Poor Leila! what degradation she must 
 have endured/ said Tom with sorrow in his voice. 
 
 Whanks smiled sadly. 
 
 ‘Ah, Mr Tom, he didn’t forget Miss Leila, and 
 neither did he forget Cleo. He was proud of his 
 wife, but he played fast and loose with the other, 
 and then they quarrelled, and when Miss Vanda 
 was born he steadied up a bit, and then all of a 
 sudden he put her in the “ ring,” and became master 
 instead of husband, and after that he treated her 
 like an apprentice, instead of a wife. In my humble 
 opinion, sir, she is best dead, and it would please 
 her much better, if she could but know it, if we 
 looked after the children. Bless her, she loved 
 them madly. It’s best to seek the living, and leave 
 the dead to rest, sir. I am afraid Vanda and her 
 brother may have fallen into cruel hands. It’s odds 
 he’s married Cleo, and the children may be suffer- 
 ing terribly now with some harsh master. The 
 right thing is to find the little ones,’ said Whanks. 
 
 ‘But surely they may have fallen into kind hands.? 
 Are all the masters cruel?’ asked Tom almost too 
 pained to speak. 
 
 ‘ Some are pretty hard when the training is on,’ 
 said Whanks. ‘ I never knew but one kind trainer, 
 and he was kind if you like. His name was Le 
 Sale. I don’t know what became of him, but he 
 had a heart like a child, tender as a new potato. I 
 remember Castelli used to laugh at him and call 
 him a fool, but he was the best of the bunch for all 
 that. I never saw a better, kinder man to beast or 
 apprentice; but it is not likely the children are with 
 him. I don’t feel very comfortable about them. But 
 for Miss Leila’s sake I shall ferret out what their 
 father has done with them.’ 
 
264 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘You seem pretty sure their father has parted 
 with them/ said Tom with some indignation. 
 
 ‘Sure as the sun shines. I know my customer, 
 and time will prove which way the land lies/ replied 
 Whanks quietly. 
 
 After that day the conversation was never re- 
 newed until they landed on English shores, and 
 then Whanks suggested they should go to London 
 direct. 
 
 ‘ It’s no use dangling about in the provinces. If 
 we stop in London we shall get on the right scent 
 at once, and save ourselves no end of bother.’ 
 
 And so Tom acquiesced in the arrangements. 
 
 Both men felt strange and lonely when they 
 arrivedj in London. There were no happy faces 
 to greet them, no one to bid them welcome, no 
 hospitable board waiting for them to partake of 
 the feast, with friends and neighbours smiling upon 
 them and bidding them to eat, drink, and be merry. 
 There were no such things for the weary travellers, 
 so they drove to a hotel and put in their lot with 
 strangers. 
 
 How many like Tom and Whanks return after 
 long years to the old country to find no smiles of 
 love to greet them, no outstretched hand ready to 
 press theirs? Yet how eagerly that long-desired 
 home coming had been longed for, how impatiently 
 waited. The vision of the joy of seeing the old 
 home again is perfect. They forget time will have 
 wrought changes in people, places, and things ; that 
 the sunlights and the shades can never be quite the 
 same ; that the past has been lost in the current of 
 years. 
 
 Like the anxious man who left his home to gain 
 riches, and returned suddenly after ten years’ ab- 
 sence, kissed his wife fondly, and then said : ‘ Now, 
 where is baby ? ’ ‘ Here/ cried a bright, girlish voice, 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 265 
 
 and the father beheld a tall, handsome child. He 
 had forgotten the lapse of years, and replied : 
 ‘ When far away from you all I have always thought 
 of home as I saw it last, my bonnie wife holding up 
 
 baby ” to say good-bye, and now she has grey hair, 
 and baby is changed into a young lady.’ 
 
 How true it is that the mind carries with it to 
 distant climes the last picture of home life upon 
 which the eyes have rested — all else seems lost but 
 the long farewell. 
 
 But alas ! how many others have found the 
 cottage home shut up, the honeysuckle dead, the 
 green, sunny garden, where the roses bloomed and 
 the pinks and lupines grew in profusion, left to 
 neglect and decay. The path up to the little 
 porch grass grown, the gate padlocked, for two 
 more stones are in the churchyard hard by. 
 
 The old folks rest there. 
 
 The day after Tom and Whanks’ arrival in 
 London they commenced their search for Leila’s 
 children. Whanks bought an Era newspaper. He 
 ran his eyes down the first page, but there was 
 nothing to his satisfaction. He turned to the back 
 sheet but one, and eagerly scanned the column 
 headed ‘Circus Artistes’ Wants.’ At last he 
 chuckled to himself, ‘ Ah, that’s the game, is it ? ’ 
 and he read two or three times over : — 
 
 ‘ Wanted known Emilio Castelli’s performing 
 horses great success at Wyatt’s Grand Circus, 
 Bombay.’ 
 
 ‘Wanted known Mdlle Cleo. greatest success on 
 record — Wyatt’s Grand Circus, Bombay.’ 
 
 ‘Now, where are the children, that’s the rub?’ 
 he said aloud. ‘ I guess they’re not out in that 
 locality. Let me see, Ringens might know, or Le 
 
266 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Sale — or — ’ But Whanks could think of no one else. 
 He had grown rusty about circus matters. ‘ Til be 
 off at once and see some of the agents, and find out 
 what I can,’ he said in a loud whisper. 
 
 The first agent he called upon told him that Le 
 Sale was dead, and that Ringens was at El Circo, 
 Valencia, Spain, and that his engagement was a 
 long one. That was all he could glean, and he 
 began to fear that he must return to the hotel with- 
 out much news for poor, anxious Tom. He saun- 
 tered about considering what would be the best 
 means of finding out Leila’s children. Suddenly 
 a woman dressed in shabby black passed him. She 
 was carrying a bundle in her arms, and she seemed 
 tired and weary. She looked very hard at Whanks, 
 as if trying to recall to mind who he was. 
 
 Whanks noticed the look of inquiry and thought 
 to himself, — 
 
 ‘ That’s some of the blessed crew. I know the 
 face I believe.’ 
 
 He turned to look back at her. She was stand- 
 ing watching him, and their eyes met. Then she 
 advanced towards him and said, — 
 
 ' Excuse me, but I think you are Mr Whanks, as 
 used to be ring groom with Castelli down at the 
 circus where my poor dear husband was — was 
 engaged ? ’ 
 
 ' Yes, I am Whanks right enough,’ he answered, 
 ‘ but ’pon my soul I don’t know you.’ 
 
 ‘ I’m Mrs Le Sale. Poor Le Sale is dead, and I 
 have to get on as I can. Ah, there’s been a lot of 
 changes since you left,’ she added with a sigh. 
 
 Whanks put out his hand and took hers, saying 
 heartily, — 
 
 T’m very glad to see you, Mrs Le Sale, very, and 
 now suppose you come in somewhere and have 
 a bit of dinner.’ 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 267 
 
 Together they went, and Whanks was a very 
 patient listener to all she had to tell ; but his interest 
 rose considerably when she told him that Castclli’s 
 two children had been apprenticed to her late 
 husband. 
 
 ' Where are they ? Where are they now ? ' asked 
 Whanks excitedly, jumping up in his eagerness. 
 
 ' I don’t know. I wish to God I did.’ 
 
 Whanks’ hopes fell like lead falls to the bottom 
 of the deepest well. 
 
 ‘You don’t know? You must know, my good 
 woman, if they were in your house?’ 
 
 Mrs Le Sale told Whanks how things stood, 
 and that she had given them up in deference to 
 her husband’s wishes, then she continued, — 
 
 ‘ A month ago I received a few lines from Vanda. 
 She gave no address, so I guess it was posted on the 
 q. t., but the postmark was Selchester. The letter 
 broke my heart nearly, and yesterday I wrote out 
 to their father, for / don’t believe things are straight’ 
 ‘ So that villain Horrox has them, has he ? Well, 
 it won’t be long before they part, or my name isn’t 
 Whanks. Selchester — that’s good enough for me. 
 Now, where do you live, in case I want you?’ 
 ‘Over the tobacconist’s in the Waterloo Road, 
 Clye is the name. You can’t mistake it ; and very 
 nice people they are.’ 
 
 ‘Well, here’s something for the children, for the 
 sake of the old days,’ and Whanks slipped a five- 
 pound note into her hand. ‘ Now, look here, Mrs Le 
 Sale, you hold your blessed tongue over this busi- 
 ness and I’ll make it worth your while. I may have 
 to bring the children up to you. If I do, don’t breathe 
 one word who they are, or we sha’n’t be able to get 
 them over the water. Do you see what I mean ? ’ 
 
 ‘ He won’t give them up. I’m sadly afraid,’ replied 
 Mrs Le Sale.^ 
 
268 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘Then I shall break his head open, and there’ll 
 be bloodshed. One of us must get the worst of it, 
 and I lay a quid he’ll be the one. Now, good-bye 
 for the present, and wait further orders.’ 
 
 Mrs Le Sale thanked Whanks heartily for his 
 generous gift, and then they parted. 
 
 Whanks scrambled into a cab, and called out to 
 the driver, — 
 
 ‘Tavistock Hotel, and hurry up that skinny old 
 horse. I’m in a deuced uncertainty about the trains, 
 so look sharp, cabby.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, yes, I daresay you’d like me to drive ’im 
 like a racehorse, and get locked hup by the society 
 for the prewention of cruelty to ’osses — no fear.’ 
 
 ‘ Here, just you start, and there will be an extra 
 bob for you at the end of the journey,’ said Whanks 
 cheerily. 
 
 With a grunt of satisfaction the cabman whipped 
 up his horse, and in due time he arrived at the 
 Tavistock Hotel. 
 
 Tom was sitting reading in his bedroom when 
 Whanks blustered in in a state of great excitement, 
 calling out hurriedly, — 
 
 ‘ The children are in Selchester. Here, make 
 haste, and let us chuck the things in the portman- 
 teau. I’ll do that if you’ll go down and find out 
 what time the train goes.’ 
 
 ‘Thank God, we have found them,’ said Tom 
 gravely. 
 
 ‘ Well, we just haven’t yet,’ replied Whanks, ‘ but 
 I am going to, so just be quick, sir, or we shall lose 
 the next train. I’m all of a tremble to be off.’ 
 
 He opened the portmanteau with a wrench, and 
 pushed in sufficient things to last them both for 
 some days. Then he closed it with a bang, and 
 waited impatiently for Tom’s reappearance. At 
 last he came. 
 
PAID IN FULL. 
 
 269 
 
 ‘There’s a train at five>thirty,’ said Tom, ‘will 
 that suit you ? We’ve just an hour before we need 
 start, so let’s get some food and pay the bill.’ 
 
 Whanks took no notice of this remark for a 
 moment, and then he said, — 
 
 ‘ I wonder if Miss Vanda is like her poor mother?’ 
 ‘I hope so,’ said Tom ; ‘it is nice to see the 
 picture of the dead in the living.’ 
 
 They were soon on their way, each hour bringing 
 them nearer to the children of the dead woman 
 so dear to them both. 
 
 Little did Vanda and Adrian dream that night 
 that friends were so close to them. 
 
 They slept after the work and torture of the day, 
 while Tom and Whanks spent hours in arranging 
 what were the best means to ensure success in their 
 undertaking. 
 
 When the sun came out over the great city, 
 Vanda and Adrian went to their work as the galley 
 slaves go, without hope. 
 
 But peace, joy, rest, and happiness were at hand. 
 The days of toil were nearly ended. 
 
 But they did not know it. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 PAID IN FULL. 
 
 Whanks soon found his way to the circus, which 
 was then in Selchester, and going down early, 
 when he knew the rehearsals were on, he asked to 
 see the ring-master. 
 
 ‘ Who wants to see me? I’m busy; tell the man to 
 come again. 
 
 ‘ He told me to say, sir, that he was engaged with 
 
2J0 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Signor Castelli for years, and must see you,' said 
 the groom. 
 
 ‘ Does he want a situation ? If he does, say we 
 are full up, there is no vacancy, replied Daspar 
 impatiently. 
 
 ' He looks like a gent, sir ; he’s come in a cab, 
 and is dressed wonderful well. In fact I’m sure he 
 is a gentleman.’ The man was thinking of the tip 
 he had received as an inducement to venture to 
 disturb Signor Daspar at his duties as ring-master. 
 
 ‘Go and fetch him, and be quick about it,’ he 
 said to the man. 
 
 Whanks entered the ring, and a strange feeling 
 came over him. It seemed as if the old life had come 
 back again, and he half expected to see Castelli 
 and Miss Leila there waiting for him. Daspar 
 smiled when he saw his visitor and said, — 
 
 ‘ I’m hanged if it isn’t Whanks. Well, who would 
 have guessed you would turn up ? It seems like old 
 times again. Come out and have a drink with me ? ’ 
 
 ‘No, thanks, sir. When I came into my aunt’s 
 money I vowed I’d never drink another of “ mild 
 or strong,” and I never will, thanking you all the 
 same. I came down here to ask you if you could 
 tell me where Horrox hangs out — you know Horrox 
 the gymnast — I want to see him particularly,’ said 
 Whanks nervously. 
 
 ‘ He was here a few minutes ago. He is going to 
 bring two children out in January, and they will 
 appear here. I don’t know much about him. He is 
 no favourite here, and his apprentices look pretty 
 bad. He brought them down once or twice. But I’m 
 half afraid he’s gone. John, John ! ’ he called, and 
 a groom came hurriedly forward. 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir.’ 
 
 ‘ Has Horrox left the building ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, sir, some minutes ago.’ 
 
PAID IN FULL. 
 
 271 
 
 ‘ Where does he live, John ? ’ 
 
 ‘ Don’t know, sir, but Sam knows.’ 
 
 ' Go and ask him, and be quick.’ 
 
 The man went off with alacrity, and returned 
 almost immediately and said, — 
 
 ‘Sam says as how he lives in South-Side. He’s 
 getting the name of the street and the number, sir.’ 
 At this moment Sam appeared, bearing a piece 
 of crumpled paper in his hand. 
 
 ‘There’s the name of the street, sir, but no one here 
 is sure of the number. Tim thinks it’s forty. I 
 think it’s one hundred and forty. We’re sure it’s 
 something with a four in it.’ 
 
 ‘Thank you,’ said Whanks, slipping a shilling into 
 the man’s hand, ‘ I shall soon find the house. The 
 street isn’t too long, and the time is my own,’ he 
 said proudly. 
 
 The men walked away, leaving Daspar and 
 Whanks alone in the ring. 
 
 ‘ How has time served you, Whanks ? ’ asked 
 Daspar. 
 
 ‘Splendidly,’ replied Whanks. ‘I left England 
 with four hundred pounds, I have come back to the 
 old country with thousands, rich enough to buy this 
 blessed circus and all in it, and a good many other 
 “shows” into the bargain.’ 
 
 ‘You’re a lucky fellow,’ said Daspar. ‘How did 
 the riches come to you ? ’ 
 
 ‘ From my claim in the diamond fields. It’s been 
 no joke sitting there scraping and scratching like a 
 hen all the day long, but it’s better than working 
 in a circus after all.’ 
 
 ‘ Well, I am glad to hear of your luck. I should 
 not object if I could boast of a trifle more than I 
 earn here ; and deuced hard work it is, never done 
 morning, noon, and night — one long toil, always the 
 same, not Sunday free even. But here I am, so it’s 
 
272 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 no use to grumble ; but I get pretty dead beat at 
 times.’ 
 
 Whanks, after a few words of simple sympathy, 
 left the circus, and returned to Tom. 
 
 ‘ IVe found out the villain lives in South-Side, 
 but no one seems sure of the house, so I think 
 we'll start for that locality. Bring your thin walk- 
 ing-stick, sir, we may want it ; he’ll be a pretty 
 rough party to deal with, I dare bet a quid.’ 
 
 ‘ I’ll give him the most thundering thrashing he 
 ever had if I can only catch him,’ said Tom quite 
 fiercely. 
 
 ‘ What a villain he must be to get the children 
 from Le Sale ; but we’ll make him confess to his 
 dirty tricks, the unscrupulous scoundrel,’ continued 
 Tom, his anger rising as he thought of the sufferings 
 to which his sister’s children must have been sub- 
 jected. Mrs Le Sale had told Whanks sufficient 
 to make them both very uneasy about the welfare 
 of Vanda and Adrian. 
 
 ‘They couldn’t have fallen into worse hands,’ 
 said Whanks to Tom. ‘ Horrox is about the 
 cruellest man / ever knew, and added to that is his 
 hate for your sister. He never forgave her getting 
 him summoned, and all this blessed trouble starts 
 from that I bet’ 
 
 Whanks’ knowledge of the hardships of the 
 training, even under the most favourable circum- 
 stances, had aroused Tom’s worst fears ; but when 
 the character of the man, and the ill-feeling he bore 
 Leila became facts, his anxiety knew no bounds, 
 and he in his turn was determined to have revenge 
 for the sake of the dead mother — the only sister, 
 and the sole companion of his earlier days, who 
 had clung so lovingly to him when the great 
 disgrace of their lives had fallen upon them both. 
 
 Together the men started, resolved to rescue 
 
PAID IN FULL. 
 
 273 
 
 the children before many more hours of suffering 
 had passed over their heads. They could not fix 
 upon any certain plan of action until they found 
 out more about Horrox and his surroundings. 
 
 At the corner of Humphrey Street was a public- 
 house, and into this Whanks turned, followed by 
 Tom. 
 
 ‘You must have a glass of bitter,’ said Whanks 
 to Tom, ‘or I sha’n’t get out of them what I want. 
 I mustn’t take a drop ; if I begin the old game Fm 
 done for, and when my aunt’s money came I vowed 
 I wouldn’t touch another glass, and I won’t’ 
 
 ‘ Glass of bitter,’ said Tom to the stout, red-faced 
 woman at the bar. 
 
 ‘ Small lemon,’ said Whanks. 
 
 The woman pushed the glasses towards them and 
 banged down the change with an injured air. ‘ She 
 didn’t believe in a customer as went in for lemonade,’ 
 and she made it a rule to be particularly short and 
 disagreeable to those who occupied the ‘ private ’ 
 bar and who ordered nothing but small lemons. 
 
 She was turning away when Whanks, nothing 
 daunted by her manner, said, — 
 
 ‘ I say, mum, I want you a minute.’ 
 
 She looked at the speaker, she locked at Tom 
 and wondered whether he was an excise officer, and 
 that thought brought her back to the counter where 
 they stood. 
 
 ‘ My name’s Smith, Mrs Sarah Smith, if you want 
 to speak to me,’ she said loftily. ‘ I ain’t used to 
 be called after in that fashion, and pray what do 
 you want with me ? ’ 
 
 ‘ I’m sure I beg your pardon,’ said Whanks hastily, 
 and Tom lifted his hat. That won the heart of Mrs 
 Sarah Smith, and a smile broke over her face, mak- 
 ing her look more low-typed and coarse than ever. 
 ‘I want to know at which number in Humphrey 
 
 S 
 
274 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Street Mr Horrox lives. I have particular business 
 W'ith him. Does he ever come in here ? ’ asked 
 Whanks. 
 
 ^ Let me see, I think it’s fourteen. George,’ she 
 called to a burly man, who was filling glasses rapidly 
 one after the other, ‘ George, which is the house that 
 man — what’s his name ? — you know, the chap with 
 a roaring name like a wild beast.’ 
 
 ‘ Horrox,’ put in Whanks. 
 
 ‘ Ah, yes, that’s the name. Horrox,’ she called 
 to her husband. 
 
 ‘ Forty-four, I think ; but the gal will be in here 
 soon for the beer. It’s nigh on one. Ah, here 
 she is.’ 
 
 Mrs Smith went over to the other counter and 
 said a few words to the child, who left the bar and 
 came round to the door of the private bar, upon 
 which was written ‘ No jugs, glasses only.’ 
 
 When Sally saw Whanks and Tom standing at 
 the counter a frightened look stole over her fece. 
 In her childish mind visions of policemen and prison 
 came before her, for had not she, at the landlady’s 
 orders, taken what belonged to the lodgers ? And 
 she fancied now that she was found out. 
 
 ‘These gentlemen want to ask you a question, 
 child.’ 
 
 ‘You live in the same house as Mr Horrox, my 
 dear, don’t you?’ said Whanks very kindly. 
 
 ‘ Yes, sir, please, sir.’ 
 
 ‘Who else lives in the house put in Tom, as if 
 afraid to hear her reply. 
 
 ‘Mistress, and Miss Vander, and Master Adrian, 
 and me,’ answered Sally. 
 
 ‘Are you fond of Miss Vanda and her little 
 brother ? ’ asked Whanks. 
 
 ‘ Oh, ain’t I just, that’s all,’ answered Sally, her 
 grimy face breaking into a look of real pleasure 
 
PAID IN FULL. 275 
 
 and love. ‘Miss Vander kisses me now and then 
 when the old brute is out of the way.^ 
 
 ‘ Who is the old brute ? ’ asked Tom. 
 
 ‘ Mr Horrox, to be sure. He do whack her about ! 
 She looks pretty bad, nigh on dying I think.' 
 
 ‘Would you help Miss Vanda if you could?’ 
 asked Tom. ‘ Would you help her friends to find 
 her and make her happy ? ’ 
 
 ‘Wouldn’t I just! But she ain’t got no friends, 
 I think. I posted a letter for her once, took it out 
 ’tween the ’errins, but she said as ’ow it were to 
 someone she’d once lived with. It wasn’t a mother 
 or anyone of that sort, ’cause she’d have told me. 
 She ain’t happy enough to ’ave any friends, please, 
 sir, leastways I don’t think so, please, sir.’ 
 
 A look of deep pain passed over Tom’s face as 
 the child finished speaking, and Whanks looked 
 much distressed. 
 
 ‘ We are her friends,’ said Tom, ‘ and we are 
 anxious to know at which number in the street you 
 live.’ 
 
 ‘You belong to Miss Vander? I’m blowed if 
 that don’t beat all I The number is four, the ’ouse 
 with the yeller blinds. My hi ! what a lark 1 ’ and 
 Sally, in her ecstasy, gave a hop and a jump round, 
 which spilt the beer down her apron, and it trickled 
 to the floor. Then the happiness died from her 
 face, and she exclaimed piteously, ‘ What will the 
 missus say ? I daren’t go home without the beer. 
 Oh, dear ! oh, dear 1 ’ 
 
 ‘ See here,’ said Whanks, ‘ I will give you half-a- 
 crown, and pay for the beer, if you will help us. 
 Now, what time of the night should we find Miss 
 Vanda, her brother, and Mr Horrox at home, and 
 where would they be sitting?’ 
 
 ‘ They mostly practises until eight o’clock, and 
 then sometimes Mister Horrox goes out to a music 
 
2/6 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ’all. Sometimes they goes too ; sometimes he 
 locks them in the drawering-room till he gits back, 
 ever so late. They never gits to bed until after 
 twelve. I ’eard Mister Horrox tell Miss Vander 
 “ she wasn’t a-going to spend her time in bed,” and 
 she gits up at harlf-past five — ’taint much rest after 
 a-clambering over them bars all day, and she looks 
 ever so white, but Mister Horrox don’t mind. One 
 blessed night he come ’ome from the music ’all and 
 found Miss Vander asleep, she were that dead tired, 
 and he just did whack her ! ’ 
 
 ‘ Well, look here, can you be outside the house 
 about eight this evening and let us know whether they 
 are at home or not ?’ asked Tom with great anxiety. 
 
 ‘ No, I’m sure I can’t,’ said Sally convincingly. 
 
 ‘ I’d be nearly murdered if they caught me out of 
 a hevening.’ 
 
 ‘ Can you give us any sign from the house ? ’ 
 asked Whanks. 
 
 Sally thought for a moment and then she said,— 
 
 ‘ If they’s at home, and all tergether in the drawer- 
 ing-room, I’ll put the broom out of the top winder 
 and twirdle it round and round, and if you stands 
 under the lamp-post oppersite to number four you’ll 
 see it hard enough.’ 
 
 ‘ Very well, and if we see the broom we will come 
 to the front door, and will you let us in without 
 ringing or knocking?’ said Whanks eagerly. 
 
 ‘ Can’t do that, sir, mightn’t be able to git to the 
 door ; but when I twirdles the broom I’ll drop the 
 latchkey in a piece of paper, and one of you gents 
 must look in the gutter for it. But you will 
 have to look sharp, ’cause I mustn’t contract the 
 neighbours.’ 
 
 Attract she meant, but Tom and Whanks were 
 too full of business to notice the ludicrous speech 
 of the child before them. 
 
PAID IN PULL. ^77 
 
 The matter seemed arranged, when Sally sud- 
 denly broke in, — 
 
 ‘ What are you going to do when you gits in to 
 missis’ house? ’Cause if I’m found out they’ll nearly 
 kill me, I know they will,’ said the child in distress. 
 
 ‘ We are going to fetch Miss Vanda and her 
 brother,’ said Tom, ‘and if you will really help us 
 you can come along too, so just have your bonnet 
 and cloak handy, for everything must be done 
 quickly.’ 
 
 ‘ You’ll take me along qf Miss Vander ? ’ said the 
 child aghast. ‘Do you really mean that, sir?’ 
 
 ‘ Yes, child, you shall go too, that is, if you carry 
 out your promises for to-night’ 
 
 ‘If they’s at home I shall, and when you gits in 
 you’ll find the drawering-room the furst door you 
 comes to up the stairs. Mister Horrox alius makes 
 a goodish rattle with the latchkey, and if you does 
 that missus will thinks it’s he.’ Suddenly she looked 
 at the clock. ‘ Lor’ ’av’ mercy ! it’s nearly a quarter 
 to two. What shall I do ? What will the missus 
 say, and Mister Horrox wanted his dinner at half- 
 past one sharp?’ and such a terrified expression 
 came over the girl’s face that both men felt ashamed 
 of the time they had kept her, and Tom said 
 kindly, — 
 
 ‘ Never mind ; if you stand by us you will be off 
 to-night with Miss Vanda. Be brave till then, and 
 don’t forget to-night at nine.’ 
 
 The child nodded her head and hurried off, and 
 the two men went out of the bar. 
 
 ‘ I say, George, them’s a queer party. They’re 
 planning something to-night at eight ; I hope it 
 ain’t a murder, or an elopement, because Sarah 
 Smith ain’t going into a witness box at the court ; 
 it’s no fit place for a lady.’ 
 
 ‘ No one wants you, my dear,’ answered a gruff 
 
27§ SLAVES OE THE SAWDUST. 
 
 voice. If they were planning a murder they 
 wouldn’t come to a public-house, and if it’s an 
 elopement I hope they will enjoy it’ 
 
 At five minutesto eightTom and Whanks loitered 
 near to the lamp-post opposite to number four. The 
 night was damp after a recent shower, but the air 
 was close for the season. The moon peeped out 
 now and again from among the grey scudding 
 clouds, and shone with a sickly wan light upon the 
 long row of dusky houses. 
 
 There were but few people about in the side 
 street. A boy passed them, yelling ‘Evening paper, 
 special edition,’ but Tom and Whanks watched 
 number four with all the sharpness of experienced 
 detectives. They saw lights were burning in the 
 drawing-room and basement, but all the other 
 windows were in darkness. Suddenly the top 
 window was cautiously opened, and a broom came 
 out and was turned round twice quickly and then 
 disappeared, but no key fell with a ringing sound 
 to the pavement beneath. 
 
 Whanks looked in dismay at Tom and said, — 
 
 ‘ She has forgotten the key.’ 
 
 ‘ I’d much rather she let us in,’ said Tom. ‘ Break- 
 ing into another person’s house is punishable by law.’ 
 ‘We are going to get Miss Leila’s children, law 
 or no law,’ said Whanks savagely. 
 
 They kept their watch on the house as if reluctant 
 to move, when Whanks exclaimed excitedly, — 
 
 ‘ The front door is open. She has managed that. 
 Come at once.’ 
 
 They both walked boldly in. Sally stood in the 
 hall. She did not speak, but pointed to the stairs. 
 In another moment Tom and Whanks stood facing 
 Horrox and his apprentices. 
 
 ‘ Who’s gone upstairs, Sally ? ’ asked her mistress , 
 half muddled with gin. 
 
PAID IN FULL. 279 
 
 ‘Some gents — friends of Miss Vander’s. I’m 
 going up to set the supper now.’ 
 
 But the besotted woman did not reply, and Sally 
 got her opportunity to get upstairs. Her heart 
 beat, her face grew crimson as she made her way 
 to the drawing-room door to be ready to go if they 
 really meant to take her. But she doubted that, 
 poor child, yet she would hope for the best. The 
 gentlemen might think of her. 
 
 The room which Whanks and Tom entered was 
 large, but there was an air of desolation, which 
 struck them in a moment. They saw the faded 
 carpet, the dirty curtains, the untidy appearance of 
 the apartment, and the cheerless air which pervaded 
 the whole room. In an easy-chair sat Horrox, 
 fiercely watching the movements of his two appren- 
 tices, who were practising some stage steps. On a 
 chair by his side lay the white-thonged whip. Just 
 as Whanks and Tom entered a fearful oath fell 
 from his lips, and the whip had curled swiftly round 
 Vanda s feet, and they heard her smothered cry of 
 anguish. 
 
 ‘ Who are you ? ’ roared Horrox, as the two men 
 stood looking at him. ‘ Get out of the room this 
 minute ; how dare you come in here? Oh, it’s you, 
 is it ? ’ he continued, glancing at Whanks, who had 
 stood behind Tom, but both men were quick enough 
 to perceive that he grew a shade paler when he 
 recognised his visitor. 
 
 ‘ It’s Whanks ! it’s Whanks ! ’ cried Vanda. 
 ‘ Adrian, have you forgotten Whanks ? ’ the child 
 cried with joy. 
 
 ‘ Hold your tongue ! ’ cried Horrox, white with 
 passion and fear. 
 
 ‘ I’ve come for you. Miss Vanda and Master 
 Adrian,’ said Whanks with emotion in his voice. 
 He could hardly speak, so terribly unnerved was he 
 
28 o 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 to see the thin, haggard, and sad faces of the chil- 
 dren he loved so dearly. 
 
 ‘ Who are you?' asked Horrox, coming up to Tom, 
 ^and what the devil brought you here, Whanks?' 
 
 ‘ I am the uncle of those two wretched children. 
 Their mother, Leila Castelli, was my sister, and I 
 have come to claim my niece and nephew, and they 
 leave this house with me to-night.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah, ah ! I daresay you think you’re master here, 
 but you see they belong to me, and they will stay 
 in my charge,’ said Horrox. 
 
 ‘ We shall see about that. Show me your autho- 
 rity? Where are the indentures signed by their 
 father? I demand to see your right to detain these 
 children. If you have none, the police shall be called 
 upon at once to act in this matter, for you are not 
 only detaining them unlawfully but I am given to 
 understand that you brutally ill-use them.’ 
 
 ‘ You want my authority do you ? Well, you shall 
 have that right enough. It’s in this room,’ and he 
 moved to his desk. 
 
 ‘ Vanda and Adrian, come here. I am Uncle Tom. 
 You must remember your mother speaking of me,’ 
 and then he folded her in his arms and kissed her 
 fervently, and for the first time he was struck with 
 the acute misery written upon her face ; then he 
 tenderly embraced the boy. 
 
 When Horrox came back to where Tom stood, 
 Whanks called the children to his side and kissed 
 them, saying, ‘ Stand by me, my dears, and listen 
 to what Uncle Tom is saying.’ 
 
 ‘ There, that is my authority,’ said Horrox, show- 
 ing the piece of paper Le Sale had signed. 
 
 ' That ! Why it’s not worth the ink it’s written 
 with. Le Sale had the indentures, not you; this paper 
 is a fraud, a lie. The children are not yours. Look at 
 them!’ cried Tom, his voice quivering with passion, 
 
PAID IN FULL. 
 
 281 
 
 ‘ look at them, I say! Are you not ashamed to stand 
 there and face me, their uncle ? Can’t I see the 
 pain you have inflicted in their white, sad faces ? 
 Dare you tell me they have been kindly treated ? 
 You are a villain, a consummate scoundrel ; and what 
 does this mean, sir? Is this the instrument of 
 torture you have used on these hapless children ? 
 
 Answer me, or by I’ll throttle you as you stand 1’ 
 
 Horrox grew livid. He looked at the tall, fine 
 man before him ; he saw the broad, thick-set should- 
 ers and the powerful build of the sturdy frame. He 
 was a gymnast, yet he did not feel inclined to show 
 fight with the angry man. 
 
 'Children,’ said Tom excitedly, 'has this man 
 often struck you with this ? Tell the truth, there is 
 nothing to fear. You belong to me, and to your 
 father. Now, speak out.’ 
 
 There was silence for a moment. Horrox glared 
 at the two frightened children, and then Vanda 
 replied in a low voice, — 
 
 ' Many times a day.’ 
 
 ‘ Deny that if you can, you villain!’ said Tom with 
 passion. 'You’ve meted out torture to two help- 
 less children, now, sir, it’s your turn,’ and before 
 Horrox could defend himself Tom had seized him 
 by the collar. For a moment there was a struggle 
 between the two men, but Tom, strong as a lion, 
 after years of healthy outdoor life in the Transvaal, 
 was more than a match for the trained but more 
 delicate man before him. In the scuffle Tom 
 dropped his thin cane, but Whanks picked it up 
 and handed it to him, and then the blows came 
 down mercilessly on Horrox. 
 
 ' There, you coward, how do you like that ? ’ 
 cried Tom, dealing him cut after cut. The children 
 turned deathly white, and then Whanks opened 
 the door, and hurrying them downstairs, called to 
 
282 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 Sally to come along also, and hold her tongue. A 
 moment afterwards they were in a cab, which Tom 
 and Whanks had left in a side street All was so 
 quickly done that the children hardly realised that 
 they were free. They were soon in the Stretford 
 Road, and then Whanks called to the cabman to 
 stop. He got out, and walking up the street, 
 entered a small draper's shop, and stepping up to 
 the counter, he said, — 
 
 ' I want a hat for a girl. Tm going to London 
 to-night, and I want to take a present to my niece. 
 Look sharp, please.' 
 
 ‘What size, sir?' asked the matter-of-fact shop 
 assistant. 
 
 Whanks hesitated, he had never thought of the 
 difficulty of size, and for a moment he did not know 
 how to reply satisfactorily. 
 
 ‘ She's thirteen,' replied Whanks at last, evading 
 the direct question. 
 
 A hat, gloves, and ulster were also selected by 
 the aid of the proprietor of the shop, and Whanks 
 returned to the cab. He then told the cabman 
 to drive on and stop at the first shop where they 
 sold boys' clothes. These clothes, an overcoat and 
 hat, were purchased for Adrian. 
 
 ‘ Now, children, pop on these things quickly. We 
 shall be at the station directly.' 
 
 The boy did as he was told, but Vanda neither 
 spoke nor moved. She had fainted. Whanks was 
 in the greatest distress, and he called to the driver, — 
 
 ‘ Stop at the next public-house,' and then he went 
 in and brought her a glass of brandy and water. 
 
 She sipped a few drops and opened her eyes 
 slowly. 
 
 ‘You are with Whanks, darling. Cheer up, and 
 put on these pretty things. We are going to Mrs 
 Le Sale.' 
 
PAID IN FULL. 283 
 
 ^ Going away!’ cried Vanda, almost dazed with 
 joy. ' Are we really going ? ’ 
 
 ‘Yes, you and Adrian, and Sally, all going with 
 me and Uncle Tom.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, how happy I am ! Adrian, kiss me.’ And 
 the children, free from bondage, hugged one another 
 and cried for joy, and Sally said, ‘Miss Vander, 
 Miss Vander, won’t you kiss me?’ And then 
 Vanda said, ‘ Sally, you have been my friend, we 
 must never part again,’ and she kissed her lovingly. 
 
 Whilst the happy, grateful children were driving 
 to the station Tom was administering what he de- 
 scribed as ‘ a thundering thrashing ’ to Horrox. At 
 last he let go his hold, and striking him one blow 
 on the temple, felled him to the ground insensible. 
 After waiting for one moment to see that he had 
 done no serious injury, he marched downstairs. 
 The landlady had heard the confusion, and she 
 discreetly locked herself in her sitting-room, mur- 
 muring, ‘It’s naught to do with me. 1 sha’n’t 
 hinterfere.’ 
 
 After a time Horrox recovered, and then sat 
 down to consider what was the best thing to do. 
 
 At length he decided to leave the country. 
 
 That night Vanda and Adrian quitted the scenes 
 of their unhappy and cruel training, the faithful 
 Sally and Uncle Tom atid dear old Whanks giving 
 them the most unceasing care. Adrian, tired out, 
 slept, but he started up several times, as if afraid of 
 a blow or a harsh word, but he sighed with content- 
 ment and fell asleep again when he found the kindly 
 faces around him smiled very lovingly at him. But 
 Vanda lay back white and weak, fainting twice dur- 
 ing the journey. Tenderly they chafed the small 
 thin hands, and Tom supported her in his strong 
 arms and kissed her many times, and once he said 
 to Whanks, — 
 
284 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ' I feel as if Leila had come back to me. See, 
 she has the same fair hair, the same great eyes. 
 Oh, Whanks, what do I owe you ? ' and he gulped 
 down the lump that would rise. 
 
 At last Vanda slept, and then Tom told Whanks 
 of the hiding he had given to Horrox, and both 
 men were satisfied that he had met his deserts. 
 
 When they reached London they stayed there 
 a night to give the children time to recover, and 
 after a peaceful rest they awoke to find luxury and 
 love instead of cruelty and hard work. 
 
 The next day Mrs Le Sale came, in response to 
 a telegram, and the children were placed in her 
 charge to be nursed and tended until Tom could 
 take them to Paris. 
 
 Vanda was too ill to say much. She put her 
 arms round Mrs Le Sale and whispered, — 
 
 ' Home, it is home at last. I am very tired. 
 Can I go to sleep now ? ’ 
 
 They left her. The blinds were drawn, the room 
 was quiet, and Vanda slept. 
 
 Poor, weary girlhood, there was peace at last. 
 
 The toil was ended. 
 
 There was perfect rest for Vanda. 
 
 No more grief, no more sorrow. 
 
 Home at last ! 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 
 
 CastellPs engagement at Bombay was drawing 
 to a close, and he and Cleo were preparing to sail 
 homewards in the Contadina when Mrs Le Sale’s 
 letter came to hand. He read it carefully many 
 times over, and then he questioned Cleo. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 
 
 285 
 
 ‘ Do you know what this letter means ? Did you 
 understand that Vanda and Adrian had left Le 
 Sale and gone to that villain Horrox?' 
 
 He kept his eyes fixed upon her as he spoke. 
 
 ' Don’t ask me such ridiculous questions,’ she re- 
 plied in an offhand manner. ‘Why should I know 
 more than you do about your own children ? You 
 surely don’t expect me to be responsible ? ’ 
 
 ‘Did you hear of Le Sale’s death?’ he asked, 
 quite ignoring her reply. 
 
 ‘ Did you ? ’ she asked evasively. 
 
 ‘ No,’ he replied brusquely. 
 
 ‘ Then why should I have done so ? ’ 
 
 Cleo was far too cute to deny her share in the 
 transaction entirely, because she was not sure how 
 far Castelli might go to find out the true state of 
 the case, and to be on the safe side as long as possible 
 was a necessity ; but neither would she own that she 
 knew anything of Le Sale or his death, and the 
 subsequent arrangements with regard to the chil- 
 dren, for might not the whole thing blow over, 
 and then she would not stand in a false light either 
 way. 
 
 Like all who commit dark deeds, she fancied 
 her secret safe in the keeping of an unscrupulous 
 man. She forgot, as others forget, that the day 
 of retribution must come, that the glare of the 
 light must sooner or later lay bare her sin in 
 all its heinousness. But she never thought of 
 that. 
 
 Castelli said very little, but he was quite deter- 
 mined to sift the matter to the bottom, and .so sure 
 he was that Cleo was in some way mixed up in the 
 affair that he could no longer treat her in the old 
 familiar style, and a coldness sprang up between 
 them which all Cleo’s smiles and attentions failed 
 to disperse. 
 
286 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 A week before they sailed Castelli received a 
 telegram from Whanks. It ran : — 
 
 ‘ When do you return ? Children with uncle. 
 Whanks, Falcon Hotel, Selchester.’ 
 
 To this Castelli replied : — 
 
 ‘ Sail Contadina, Meet me Selchester.’ 
 
 After the receipt of the telegram Castelli re- 
 marked : — 
 
 ‘Well, Whanks will soon find out the whole thing, 
 if he hasn’t by this. I suppose that confounded 
 aunt of his has left him a pot of money.’ 
 
 ‘Well, don’t you remember Ringens told us that 
 he had made thousands with your wife’s brother on 
 the diamond fields. But why he interferes with 
 your children I can’t understand,’ Cleo added in a 
 disagreeable tone. 
 
 Castelli knew only too well. He could call to 
 mind how devoted a servant Whanks had been 
 to his dead wife, and how he bestowed much love 
 on her children, but to Cleo he only remarked 
 rudely, — 
 
 ‘ It is nothing to do with you ; I am much obliged 
 to him.’ 
 
 ‘ Ah ! that’s because he is a rich man ; if he had 
 been still your groom your thanks would have been 
 pretty scarce I’m thinking,’ she added saucily. 
 
 During the voyage he took but little notice of 
 her beyond the merest civilities. Both of them 
 were going direct to Selchester to fulfil a long 
 engagement. This Whanks had found out through 
 Castelli’s agents, and there he determined to return 
 at such time as Castelli arrived. Vanda and Adrian 
 were in Paris in the kind care of their uncle and 
 Mrs Le Sale, and later he received very cheerful 
 letters from them. One in particular, which came 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 287 
 
 from Tom, announced his engagement to Fanny 
 Herepath. 
 
 ‘ I met her in Paris,’ he wrote, ‘ and now all is 
 settled and I am a happy man.’ 
 
 ‘ So Mr Tom is going to be spliced,” is he ? 
 Well, God bless him 1 I hope he will be happier 
 than poor Miss Leila was. But I’m wondering if he 
 will have the children when he’s married. Well, 
 if he don’t, I will,’ he murmured. 
 
 When Castelli and Cleo arrived in England they 
 started at once for Selchester, and then Castelli 
 made rather a startling proposition to Cleo. 
 
 ' I’m going to put up at the Falcon Hotel, Cleo, 
 for a day or so, and you had better go into private 
 apartments ; Miss Taylor may have the same rooms 
 again. I can’t have you at the hotel with me,’ he 
 added positively. 
 
 ‘ And, pray, why not ? I suppose I am good 
 enough company for your late groom — the hotel 
 is as much for me as for you. It’s public to all 
 who can pay, and you can’t keep me out,’ she cried 
 excitedly. 
 
 ‘ I can’t, but your character can,’ he remarked 
 with a sneer. ‘You’ve been in Selchester too 
 many times to pose as a saint ; take my advice and 
 don’t go to the Falcon or they may refuse to take 
 you in, and that wouldn’t be pleasant for you.’ 
 
 ‘ You’re a beauty ! ’ she stormed. ‘ It’s pretty cool 
 to tell me tha.tj^ou can go where / can’t. If I am 
 a sinner, I bet you are a greater, and surely where 
 the devil can go his angels can,’ she cried angrily. 
 
 ‘ Well, you won’t go with me. I believe you 
 have deceived me all through, and until I hear what 
 Whanks can tell me we are best apart. Someone 
 has lied, and I shouldn’t wonder if it is you. At 
 anyrate, Cleo, you must look out for yourself,’ he 
 added without relenting. 
 
288 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 ‘ Thanks/ she replied with sarcasm, ‘ I will.' 
 
 Castelli had not expected Cleo to take his de- 
 cision so quietly, but she had a good reason for 
 doing so. For some days she had been wondering 
 how she could get out of the meeting between 
 Castelli and Whanks. She knew he would pro- 
 bably accuse her of a great deal which she knew to 
 be true, but which would bring down Castelli's 
 wrath. She would rather put off the evil day, for 
 she dreaded what she knew must be the result if 
 Horrox had ‘split' upon her, a parting from her 
 handsome lover ; therefore it suited her best to be 
 out of the way until the affair had tided over. 
 But she played her part so well that even Castelli 
 was unaware of her wishes, and he hoped that he 
 was meting out a just punishment to her by declin- 
 ing to have her with him as his companion. Un- 
 wittingly he assisted her to carry out just the plan 
 she desired. 
 
 And so each of them went their several ways. 
 
 When Castelli and Whanks met, the greeting to 
 each other was somewhat cool. Both of them felt 
 how much had happened since last they saw each 
 other. Whanks recalled to Castelli his dead wife, 
 whilst the presence of his old master brought back 
 to Whanks the vision of a beautiful, happy girl on 
 the seashore at Sandcliffe, afterwards of a pale- 
 faced, weary woman, dying of a broken heart, and 
 he could not put out his hand and welcome him, as 
 the old servant felt he should like to have done. 
 
 When Castelli thanked him for being the means 
 of helping the children, Whanks replied, — 
 
 ‘ What has been done by me and Mr Tom has 
 been done for Miss Leila's sake.' 
 
 Castelli winced. He felt the implied rebuke, but 
 he made no reply, and a silence fell on the two men. 
 At last Whanks spoke. 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 289 
 
 ‘ It’s better, sir, that you should know just how 
 things were after poor Le Sale’s death, and then 
 you can judge what is best to be done.’ 
 
 The two men sat down, and Whanks told Castelli 
 the history of Tom and his going to Selchester, 
 how Tom had thrashed Horrox unmercifully, and 
 how the coward in his fright had begged for mercy, 
 putting the chief blame upon Cleo. 
 
 ‘ It appears,’ said Whanks, ‘ that Cleo and Horrox 
 were hand and glove in the affair from the begin- 
 ning. The villain paid her for her share of the 
 transaction, and getting your consent to sending 
 them to Le Sale was the beginning of the cruel 
 scheme.’ 
 
 ' The devil ! ’ muttered Castelli. 
 
 ‘ Yes, she is devil enough and to spare. It broke 
 my heart to see those children. Miss Leila’s, worn 
 as thin as laths, and looking like death itself. 
 They’ve been treated most shamefully. I’m not 
 sure as Miss Vanda will live long. It’s pretty nigh 
 killed her, sir.’ 
 
 Castelli turned white as Whanks spoke, but it 
 was with anger more than regret for his children’s 
 sufferings. 
 
 ‘ I have done with her for ever — for ever,’ he 
 hissed. 
 
 ‘She’s a bad lot, sir, take my word on it, sir. 
 She will bring you more trouble than joy. You’d 
 best rid yourself of her once and for all,’ said 
 Whanks boldly. 
 
 Castelli did not, as of old, tell Whanks to mind 
 his own business. He was a rich man now, and no 
 longer the drunken servant of the old days. 
 
 ‘ I intend to,’ said Castelli angrily. ‘ Cleo and 
 I have done with one another from to-day.’ 
 
 ‘ I hope you’ll keep to that, sir, for Miss Leila’s 
 sake. She’d have fretted had she known how 
 
 T 
 
290 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 things had turned. God bless her ! But the chil- 
 dren are safe enough now, and Mr Tom and I will 
 be glad when you can go over and settle things. 
 Somehow Mr Tom and I don’t like the idea of 
 parting with them/ said Whanks anxiously. 
 
 ‘ I daresay they can stay with you/ said Castelli 
 rather vaguely. ‘ But where is that villain Horrox? 
 He and Cleo must be polished off before I think of 
 the children.’ 
 
 ' I’ve been inquiring. He’s gone abroad — bolted. 
 I guess he is in America. He used to hang out there 
 a good deal at one time. He actually owned that 
 he sent a telegram to Cleo the very day he got the 
 children into his power.’ 
 
 In a moment flashed across Castelli’s mind the 
 receipt of a telegram by Cleo which she had de- 
 clined to show him. He had no doubt now as to 
 whom it came from, and his face grew whiter still 
 with passion as Whanks ceased speaking. 
 
 ' Well, I’ll go down to the circus/ he said, his 
 voice trembling with rage. ‘ I’ll go and see what 
 she has to say for herself, the devil ! and if ever 
 I catch Horrox there will be murder, as sure as I 
 stand here. Here, give me my hat. Give it me at 
 once/ he added with his old peremptory manner, 
 forgetting in his anger that Whanks was not his 
 servant to do his behests. 
 
 But Whanks did as he was asked, and did not 
 attempt to interfere with the irate man. 
 
 Castelli went to the circus, more of a fiend than 
 a man in his terrible passion. 
 
 Whilst this was going on in Selchester Tom 
 and the children were in Paris, awaiting the coming 
 of Castelli and Whanks, when Tom was going to 
 make the former a definite offer for the charge of 
 Vanda and Adrian. After much persuasion on the 
 part of Tom, Mrs Le Sale had consented to leave 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 2QI 
 
 her children with her married sister and come with 
 them all to France. 
 
 ‘The children must have someone with them/ 
 said Tom. ‘ Look how ill Vanda is.’ 
 
 ‘ 111, I should think she is ! It will take months 
 and months before the marks of that fiend’s terrible 
 lash disappear. She is terribly scarred and marked, 
 and so is Adrian. I think Horrox ought to have 
 been put in prison, that I do ; but as to going to 
 Paris, I don’t know, it seems to me an awful journey. 
 What with crossing the sea, and the language being 
 all of a muddle, and my children left behind, is more 
 than I can lean to,’ said Mrs Le Sale. 
 
 But eventually Tom persuaded her to make ar- 
 rangements and come for a few days, until he could 
 find someone else to be with them. 
 
 ‘Would you leave them motherless and ill, 
 with only me to look after them?’ asked Tom 
 gently. 
 
 This speech touched Mrs Le Sale’s motherly 
 heart, and she exclaimed, — 
 
 ‘ I’m sure poor Le Sale would have told me to look 
 after Vanda; he thought a world of Vanda. Yes, 
 Pll go if the sea is the death of me, so that’s agreed,’ 
 and she went to try and nurse back life and spirits to 
 the two almost heartbroken children. 
 
 One evening Vanda was resting on the sofa in a 
 pleasant room at the Grand Hotel in Paris. Mrs 
 Le Sale was sitting by her, when she said suddenly, — 
 
 ‘ Do you think many children are treated like we 
 were, Mrs Le Sale ? Sometimes I cannot sleep for 
 thinking of it’ 
 
 Adrian was sitting at the table, once more at his 
 beloved drawing. He had almost forgotten the 
 hardships of the past, although his face looked very 
 thin and white. He looked up as Vanda spoke, as if 
 her words recalled the days of horror and misery. 
 
292 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST, 
 
 ‘ Don’t worry about that, Vanda,’ said Mrs Le Sale 
 kindly. ‘ There’s very few in the world as cruel as 
 Mr Horrox. You see, my dear, he hated your poor 
 dear mother, and so he had his spite on you.’ 
 
 ‘ But the masters are not kind, are they, even if 
 they are not as bad as Horrox? ’ inquired Vanda, 
 not to be put off. 
 
 'Well, my dear, Le Sale was, but I am afraid there’s 
 few like him. They have to be strict, and keep their 
 apprentices hard at work. You see the people go 
 to circuses to be amused, and so the children must 
 be made to do their work properly. Horrox would 
 have been kinder if it hadn’t been for his grudge 
 against your mother ; but it’s a dreadful life for a 
 girl — hard, cruel, terrible. My children won’t go in 
 for it, I’ll take good care,’ said Mrs Le Sale with 
 deep feeling. 
 
 ‘ Can’t anything be done to help the children, 
 Mrs Le Sale? Will no one save them?’ said 
 Vanda in real distress. 
 
 ' I’ve heard some people are trying, but it will 
 be uphill work. The public won’t believe — don’t 
 want to. They’re afraid it may cost them some- 
 thing. They like to offer opinions, but when it 
 comes to helping those who have done the work 
 they don’t see it,’ replied Mrs Le Sale. ‘ If the 
 hardships could be stopped without touching their 
 pockets, they would gladly cry out against it. But 
 no, no, my dear, the children may work and toil to 
 the end if it is likely to cost them a fiver.’ 
 
 'I wish I had some money,’ replied Vanda wearily, 
 a flush of pain spreading over her thin, wan face. 
 
 Mrs Le Sale noticed the change, and she said 
 hastily, — 
 
 ‘Try and rest now, Vanda. You know the 
 doctor told you this morning not to worry or the 
 nervous attack would return, and then your uncle 
 
THE BEGINNING OF THE END. 293 
 
 would be so vexed. Don’t think any more about 
 it just now, my dear,’ said Mrs Le Sale. 
 
 Just as she finished speaking the door opened, 
 and Tom came into the room, behind him came 
 a bashful, blushing girl. 
 
 Vanda,’ said Tom, 'this is Miss Fanny Here- 
 path, my future wife. She has promised to be 
 your friend; haven’t you, Fanny?’ asked Tom, 
 turning to her. 
 
 'I shall do my best. May I kiss you, Vanda?’ 
 and she stooped down and caressed her affection- 
 ately. 'And will Adrian kiss me too?’ she asked, 
 going up to where the boy sat. 
 
 He put his arm about her neck, and pursed up 
 his mouth for a kiss. 
 
 ‘ Are you going to live with us ? ’ he asked. 
 
 ' Some day, I hope,’ she answered quietly. 
 
 Mrs Le Sale motioned to Sally to leave the room 
 with her ; she felt sure Mr Tom had something to 
 say, and when they were gone he told Vanda and 
 Adrian the story of his love ; how he had seen 
 Fanny Herepath many years before, and how they 
 had hoped to meet again some day ; how Fanny’s 
 father had returned to England a rich man once 
 more and her brother was studying art in Paris ; and 
 how they had all met in the great city, and that he 
 and Fanny would be married soon, and there would 
 be a home for them both, if Castelli would accept 
 a proposed offer.’ 
 
 ' But what will become of Whanks and Sally ? 
 I shouldn’t like to leave them,’ pleaded Vanda. 
 
 ' Whanks will settle that himself. He is as rich 
 as I am, Vanda. I cannot make him go with us 
 unless he wishes it ; but, of course, Sally must go, 
 and learn to wait upon you and Adrian. You see 
 we must get a governess for you both at home, un- 
 less your father wishes to take you with him, and. 
 
294 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 of course, he has the first claim — nothing can be 
 decided until he comes/ said Tom. 
 
 ‘ I am glad you are going to be married, uncle. 
 I hope you will both be very, very happy/ she said 
 wearily. 
 
 The tone struck Fanny and Tom painfully, and 
 both of them drew near to the sofa and looked at 
 the lovely face, so white and sad. 
 
 ‘Do you feel more than usually tired, Vanda 
 dear?^ asked Tom with anxiety. 
 
 ‘ No, uncle dear, only the life seems gone out of 
 me. I wonder if I shall ever feel happy again. It 
 all seems different, even Adrian is not the same/ 
 she said, smiling languidly at her brother. 
 
 ‘Do you hear that, Adrian?’ said Fanny Here- 
 path ; ‘ come and kiss her, and tell her you love her 
 just as much as ever.’ 
 
 The boy came, and flushed painfully when he 
 stooped to kiss her, saying, — 
 
 ‘Of course I love you, Vanda dear.’ 
 
 ‘Yes, you love me/ replied Vanda, ‘but some- 
 how it doesn’t seem the same/ she added, with deep 
 regret in her voice. 
 
 ‘ Oh, you’ll soon be better, and then it will appear 
 just the same,’ said Fanny cheerfully. ‘And now 
 I shall wish you good-bye until to-morrow, when 
 I will call again, if I may.’ 
 
 Vanda smiled, and Fanny kissed her again, and 
 from that night a very deep friendship arose between 
 the two — a friendship which was to make life very 
 pleasant for Vanda after the shadows which had 
 marred it for so long. 
 
 Later that night Tom, full of anxious love for 
 his dead sister’s child, tried his best to find out 
 from Vanda what trouble lay upon her mind, and 
 her reason for supposing her brother’s love to be 
 altered ; but to all his inquiries she only replied, — 
 
DEATH UNSEEN. 295 
 
 ‘ It is different ; there is something come between 
 us. It can never be the same.’ 
 
 Vanda did not tell her uncle what that sad 
 ‘ something ’ was, but she knew, poor child, that the 
 degradation of their training together — the hard' 
 ships and punishments which they had undergone 
 in each other’s presence — had caused a natural shy- 
 ness to arise between them, and the memory of 
 those days would do away for ever with the old 
 familiar and innocent love. 
 
 True brotherly and sisterly affection, deep and 
 lasting, would always exist between them, but alas ! 
 the early love was gone, degradation had ruined 
 that ; it could not return if it would. 
 
 To how many other girls now training in mixed 
 troupes of men and boys, does this terrible feeling 
 of ‘ something’ gone arise to them. As to Vanda, 
 that something means loss of the purity and sweet- 
 ness of girlhood, and of that priceless gift of modesty 
 which dies for ever in those poor hapless girls whose 
 limbs are daily distorted and bent into unnatural 
 shapes by brutal and coarse masters. 
 
 Oh, the misery and sin of a system which per- 
 rhits young girls to suffer such terrible pain so that 
 the people may take their pleasure. 
 
 It exists to-day, to-morrow — it is going on now. 
 
 And will the people dare still to plead ignorance ? 
 
 Very likely. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 DEATH UNSEEN. 
 
 Castelli left Whariks and strode down to the 
 circus, prepared to deal with Cleo as she fully 
 deserved. 
 
296 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 He knew he should find her there. 
 
 His passion was fearful, it raged within him like 
 an angry sea, and maddened him with its giant 
 power. He was ready to spring upon his prey with 
 all the fury of his fierce nature, for Cleo had deceived 
 him, lied to him for the gratification of her passion, 
 and he had been her lover. These truths filled him 
 with rage. Terrible he looked, with flashing eyes, 
 his strong feelings magnified to desperation as he 
 confronted her practising in the ring. 
 
 She saw him coming, and she advanced to 
 meet him with a bright smile. She knew Castelli 
 had a faint suspicion that she had helped Horrox 
 to procure the children, but there had been no 
 facts to establish any actual evidence against her, 
 and only once during the voyage home had he 
 alluded to Mrs Le Sale’s letter, and then he had 
 said, — 
 
 ^ I believe you know more of this than you choose 
 to admit ; but I shall find it out, cost what it may.’ 
 
 Now he had seen Whanks, she thought, more 
 than likely Horrox had ‘split,’ ‘for he was always a 
 coward,’ said Cleo to herself, remembering his fright 
 when Leila had taken out a summons against him. 
 ‘ He hadn’t the pluck to go to the court and deny 
 the whole thing.’ 
 
 He stood facing her ; she was alone, for the 
 circus was deserted, but she did not flinch from his 
 glittering eyes, which flashed upon her full of hate 
 and scorn. 
 
 She knew her game was up, she read her fate in 
 his wrath, which was reflected in his trembling 
 voice, in the clenching of the hands, in the livid 
 workings of his white, set face. 
 
 She drew herself quite erect and looked at him 
 calmly. Grand in her splendid beauty, she never 
 quailed ; but there was a light in her lustrous eyes 
 
DEATH UNSEEN. 
 
 297 
 
 which spoke of revenge hiding beneath their depths, 
 of some baffled strife which might wake suddenly 
 and crush with its force the might and mystery of 
 life. 
 
 She was prepared for the battle. She had no 
 terror of the furious man before her, even when 
 his anger came towering upon her with relentless 
 fury, like the autumn boreas which carries all 
 before it, blustering, hurrying, rushing, booming 
 on its way. She smiled like the bright ray which 
 shines when the storm has gone. It suited her to 
 suppress her wrath until his had burst and passed 
 away. 
 
 She might appease him once more. She could 
 not lose him for ever. 
 
 ‘You impostor! you liar! you cheat!’ at last 
 came from his opening lips. ‘ IVe found you out, 
 you false hypocrite ! It was you, was it, who 
 planned the dastardly act of taking my children 
 from the home I chose for them ? I understand 
 now why you persuaded me to part with them to 
 Le Sale. It was the first step in your fiendish de- 
 sign, the first step, I say, towards having revenge 
 on my dead wife. You and your brutal lover 
 thought to baffle me with your devilish lies, 
 but the hour of reckoning is at hand. I’ll set 
 sleuth hounds on his track. He shall be done to 
 death ! ’ he cried in his violent excitement. 
 
 She made no reply, and this provoked him to 
 frenzy, and he continued furiously, — 
 
 ‘You who have pretended to love me, you who 
 came grovelling to my feet, you fiend ! you she- 
 devil ! what have you to say ? ’ he cried, distraught 
 with passion. 
 
 The vigour of his vehement speech did not take 
 her by surprise. She knew of the temper which so 
 often distorted his fine face and made him a terror 
 
298 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 to those in his power. At such times she expected 
 no softening in his humour. He was too desperate, 
 too insulting to listen to reason. But she was not 
 prepared to give him up. She must win him back 
 to her side. His displeasure must be removed from 
 her, so she said sweetly, — 
 
 ‘You are too hard upon me, Castelli. Listen to 
 me/ and she moved a few steps nearer to him, but 
 he waved her back rapidly, as if her presence stung 
 him into unbounded hate. 
 
 ‘ Stay where you are. Don't come a step nearer,' 
 he cried. ‘ I loathe the sight of you.' 
 
 ‘ No, no, Castelli, you don't. Love can't change 
 like that. You're making a deal more of it than 
 you need. The precious children are alive and 
 well,' she said, trying to modify his anger. 
 
 " Love ^ don't talk to me of lovel Curse you and 
 your love ! They might have died for all you cared, 
 you she-devil ! I know how you intercepted letters 
 and papers, and kept Le Sale's death a secret, so that 
 your cowardly plans could be carried out to revenge 
 yourself on my wife. You and Horrox are devils 
 — devils ! ' he thundered. 
 
 ‘ I deny it all,' replied Cleo quietly. 
 
 ‘ Don't lie to me, or by heaven I'll do for you ! 
 Why, you received money from that villain for help- 
 ing him. Can you deny that ? ' asked Castelli with 
 an oath. 
 
 ‘Who told you I received money?' asked Cleo 
 uneasily, wondering how that part of the bargain 
 had transpired. 
 
 Castelli's brow darkened, his eyes flashed angrily. 
 
 ‘ Who told me ? Why, your dastardly lover. He 
 put the blame on you when his own neck was in 
 danger, the cur. But if I can find him I'll kill 
 him with one stroke, and you after him,' he said 
 with violence. 
 
DEATH UNSEEN. 299 
 
 ' That would be murder, Castelli ; you can’t mean 
 that ? ’ said Cleo. 
 
 ‘ Murder is too good for either of you,’ he added. 
 
 ‘ I shall go and search for him, and his fate will be 
 death. I shall stab him through and through for 
 — for — Leila’s sake.’ His voice grew more quiet as 
 he uttered the dead wife’s name. 
 
 ‘ Castelli, do be quiet ; you are going a sight to 
 far. It is simply absurd to talk like that. What I 
 did was to save you worry. I did for them as if 
 I were their mother, you — .’ 
 
 In a moment he strode up to her and caught her 
 arm roughly, shaking her with brutal force. 
 
 'You like their mother!’ he hissed. ‘You, a 
 scheming woman,’ and he flung her from him, ‘ a 
 woman with as many lovers as days of the year. 
 She was good and pure, whilst you are as bad as 
 the devil can make you,’ he said frantically. 
 
 ‘ You didn’t treat her as if she was such a treasure,’ 
 replied Cleo with sarcasm, for she was angry now, 
 but she kept her temper under control. 
 
 He put out his hand to deal her a terrible blow. 
 She saw the action, and evaded it quickly, saying, — 
 
 ‘ I am going, until you are less mad and can 
 behave not quite like a fool or a lunatic.’ 
 
 ‘ Oh, no, you are not; I haven’t done with you yet. 
 Look here,’ and he lowered his voice and spokeslowly 
 and remorselessly, ‘ you have longed after my love 
 for years, you took it freely when I had a wife, 
 you would take it to the end, but — but from this 
 day forth you dare to darken my steps and I’ll 
 shoot you as I would a dog. I’ve done with you. 
 You’ve been confoundedly jealous of “ Darkie,” 
 well, I am going to make her my wife, and if I catch 
 you dogging me about I’ll put a bullet through 
 your heart. Now, get off, and never you come 
 near me again. Be off, I sayl’ he cried wrathfully. 
 
300 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 He had touched her at last, he knew how jealous 
 she was, and it pleased him to probe the wound he 
 had made. 
 
 ‘You are going to marry “ Darkie ” the rider?' 
 she asked, her face flushing. ‘ Well, I hope you will 
 be happy,' as a strange look overspread her features. 
 
 A change had come over her face ; it was not 
 yearning love, it was not despair. 
 
 What was it ? 
 
 ‘You are a brute, and a savage,’ she replied, and 
 then she turned and left him. 
 
 The next day she went again to the circus to 
 seek Castelli. He might be there, for both of them 
 had been engaged for the season. 
 
 ‘ I'll give him another chance one more — only 
 one,' she murmured. 
 
 Her plans were ready, and she intended to put 
 them into effect without delay. She watched him 
 from a safe distance, and she saw him enter a 
 dressing-room, where he had left his overcoat and 
 stick. 
 
 In a moment she followed him. 
 
 ‘ Castelli ! ' 
 
 His face darkened, his passion rose again when 
 he saw her there. Beautiful but evil she looked 
 standing before him, with her long artistic cloak 
 clinging round her shapely form. 
 
 ‘ You here again ! Do you want me to shoot you ? ’ 
 he asked, speakiiig rapidly 
 
 ‘Answer me one question, Castelli, and we shall 
 never trouble each other again.' Her eyes grew 
 fixed on his face as she continued: ‘Are you go- 
 ing to marry “Darkie”? Is it all over between you 
 and me ? ’ she said slowly, never moving her eyes 
 from his face. 
 
 ‘Yes, we are strangers for ever. Go, woman, 
 begone ! ' and he glared at her fiercely. 
 
DEATH UNSEEN. 3OI 
 
 ‘ Are you going to marry “Darkie’'?’ she persisted. 
 
 ‘ Yes/ he replied. 
 
 ‘ Do you mean that ? ' 
 
 ‘ Yes. Get out of my way, you brazen devil ! ’ 
 
 ‘You mean that too?' Her voice quivered with 
 suppressed passion and excitement. She went close 
 up to him, so near that he could see her agitation. 
 
 ‘Will you be gone, or by heaven I’ll do for you 
 in another minute/ he stormed. 
 
 Still she kept her eyes fixed on him, but her hand 
 moved stealthily from behind her cloak. There 
 was a glitter of steel — a white arm raised — a groan 
 — a stream of blood — a voice full of mad impulse, 
 crying,— 
 
 ‘ You shall never marry ‘‘ Darkie,” my man ; 
 you’re done for now.’ 
 
 She had plunged the knife deep into his chest. 
 She knew he must die. 
 
 Castelli staggered, then fell to the ground heavily. 
 
 He put his hand to the wound to try and staunch 
 the crimson blood which flowed more rapidly. 
 
 With one wild effort he tried to wrench the knife 
 from his chest, gasping, — 
 
 ‘ Help ! help ! I am stabbed.’ 
 
 But he could not move it, Cleo had done her 
 work too well ; and so the blood flowed out of the 
 hideous wound. He grew faint, and at last he lay 
 unconscious and ghastly on the floor. 
 
 Half-an-hour later he was found by a horror- 
 stricken groom, just breathing and that was all. 
 
 ‘ Cleo — has — stabbed — me,’ he managed to 
 whisper at last. 
 
 The police were sent for, and then Castelli re- 
 peated the charge against her, a look of hate 
 stealing over his white face at her name. After 
 the police and doctors had seen him he was re- 
 moved very tenderly to the manager’s office and 
 
302 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 placed on a sofa. They all felt the hand of death 
 was upon him. 
 
 There he lay the victim of a foul deed. All the 
 fury had died from his face. The dews of death 
 were fast gathering on his brow. More handsome 
 he looked ebbing out his strength than he ever did 
 in life. 
 
 His eyes were closed. There was silence in the 
 room. No one dared to speak when the hour of 
 death was at hand. 
 
 Whanks, who had been hastily summoned, sat 
 by his side. The doctors, the manager, and one or 
 two performers stood about the room, all of them 
 dazed and grieved that such things should happen 
 in their midst. 
 
 Castelli opened his eyes and murmured, — 
 
 ‘ Whanks — I want — to — speak — to — you — alone,’ 
 he gasped feebly. 
 
 Castelli’s wish was made known, and the men went 
 out softly and closed the door, and then Whanks bent 
 over Castelli to catch his last words. 
 
 ‘ Ask her brother — to — take care of — my children 
 — you will see — to that — promise.’ 
 
 ‘ I will,’ said Whanks solemnly, overcome, and 
 much distressed to see his old master dying by a 
 woman’s hand. 
 
 Castelli lay silent for a few minutes, breathing 
 hurriedly, and then he murmured, — 
 
 ‘ The horses — must — be — sold for — the children 
 — and the money in — ’ But the next words were 
 lost, and Whanks replied, — 
 
 ‘ Don’t worry, sir, I will see to everything ; the 
 children will never want.’ 
 
 He looked up, and something like a smile passed 
 over his face ; but he could not speak his gratitude. 
 
 Suddenly he seemed to revive somewhat, and 
 then he murmured,— 
 
DEATH UNSEEN. 
 
 303 
 
 ' I can see Leila — down — by the sea — the wind 
 blows — the rock is nearly covered — I must — save 
 her.’ Then his thoughts wandered to their wedding 
 day. * You are — mine, Leila — I — will love you for 
 — ever — how dark it grows — Whanks — are you 
 there ? — Leila — ’ 
 
 He gasped heavily twice, and then Whanks knew 
 that the great shadow of death had fallen on Cas- 
 telli. 
 
 But there were no angels waiting to take him to 
 the realms where Leila had gone long before. 
 
 In sin he had lived, in loneliness he died. 
 
 When the officers of the law went to arrest Cleo 
 — they found her cold and dead. 
 
 An empty glass, a phial by its side, marked 
 'poison,’ told the oft-repeated but silent tale. A 
 scrap of paper, crumpled in her death agonies, was 
 found in her hand. On it was written : — 
 
 ' I was with you in life — I am with you in death. 
 Only " Darkie ” is left behind, and that is well. 
 
 ' Cleo.’ 
 
 A motley crowd gathered at the cemetery. The 
 curious and the vulgar saw the body of the murder- 
 ess lowered in silence ; only the thud of the earth 
 falling on the coffin as it was lowered gratified 
 the lookers-on. But the words of the burial ser- 
 vice were hastily read over her victim’s last resting 
 place, and then the people went their way. There 
 was nothing more to see. 
 
 But there were no tears shed, no flowers left on 
 the newly turned mould. 
 
 Unhallowed, unblessed, unloved they lay. 
 
 Such is the curse of sin. 
 
304 
 
 SLAVES OF THE SAWDUST. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 It was a lovely spring morning in the early May 
 time. There was happiness everywhere, the joyous 
 birds carolled forth their bright spring notes, the 
 robin trilling with all his might from the branches 
 of the great walnut tree, and in the copse hard by 
 the linnets twittered and flew about merrily in the 
 warm sunshine, and the quivering larks rose from 
 the grass in the fresh meadows, each and all offer- 
 ing a tribute of thankfulness to the profuse spring- 
 time. The bees hummed with a pleasant murmur 
 among the newborn flowers and on the blossom 
 laden trees, and the air was full of the fragrance of 
 the growing vegetation and the bursting buds. 
 
 Nature was sublime, truly heaven and earth re- 
 joiced, for is not the verdant spring the brightest 
 time of all the year, more beautiful, more enchant- 
 ing because the cold and mournful winter has past 
 and gone. Surely the most placid must have some 
 love for nature in her supreme moment? But to 
 those who are rapt in wonder by her changing 
 seasons May must be the greatest pleasure that 
 life can give throughout the living year. 
 
 May tells of coming hopes and joys ; it brings 
 the happy summer tide, and adorns the landscape 
 with brilliant lustre and light. The voice of the 
 cuckoo seems to ring a welcome from the woods 
 as if to say : ‘ I’ve come. I’ve come with the joyous 
 months. With me are the green sward, the pale 
 primrose, the tender anemone, the buttercup, and 
 the golden daffodil. Rejoice whilst the youth of 
 the year is with you ! ’ 
 
 Nowhere did the glorious sunshine cast its rosy 
 
FINALE. 
 
 305 
 
 blushes more brightly than over a certain old 
 manor house, nestling in the heart of the country. 
 It rested upon its ivied chimneys and upon its well- 
 kept lawns and fine old garden, and enjoying the 
 brilliance were Vanda and Adrian. Two years had 
 sped since their father was laid in his lonely grave, 
 but to the children the time had passed very happily. 
 Tom had intended adopting both children, but 
 Whanks would not hear of such an arrangement ; 
 and finally, when he was persuaded to occupy 
 certain rooms in the house with Mr and Mrs Tom, 
 the care and expense of Adrian's education was 
 left, at his desire, to him. 
 
 On this sunny May morning the brother and 
 sister were walking together for the last time for 
 a long year. Adrian was going to Rome to study 
 art ; the long-desired ambition of his young life 
 was about to be realised, and he was as full of 
 hope as the spring day. 
 
 ‘ Here come all the rest,’ said Vanda, and they 
 stood on the lawn to wait. 
 
 A strange group they looked. The tall, fragile 
 figure of Vanda, the eager, restless boy, the blunt, 
 white-haired Whanks, and the smiling Tom and his 
 wife, all gathered together to make Adrian's last 
 day at home a very pleasant one. 
 
 Through much trouble happiness had at last 
 crowned their lives, and each felt that spring day 
 how deep should be their gratitude. 
 
 The little group on the lawn disappears from 
 view, the spring and summer has fled, and many 
 more have come and gone, until it is May time 
 again. The old house is gay enough to-day, 
 people hurry hither and thither, the bells from the 
 ivied tower ring out a merry peal, and the villagers 
 stand in little bands to watch for the bride. 
 
 Vanda Castelli has given her fresh young woman- 
 U 
 
3o6 slaves of the sawdust. 
 
 hood to the care of James Herepath, and her 
 brother, CastelH, the great artist, the idol of princes 
 and people, had come from Rome to wish her God- 
 speed. 
 
 And so she left the home which had guarded her 
 so long, and with her maid Sally, now dignified with 
 the name Sarah, entered upon a new life, with a fond 
 husband by her side. 
 
 Whanks went out to America after Vanda’s 
 marriage, but before he went he told Tom the 
 secret of his life. 
 
 ‘The man who ruined your life and Miss Leila’s, 
 the villain Herbert Clifford, was my brother. To 
 make up for his dastardly crime, I have devoted 
 my life to those she left behind. There is no need 
 for me now, so I shall start once more, and feel 
 at rest. I have done what I could.’ 
 
 And so the curtain falls on those who have 
 suffered, sinned, and died, and upon those who 
 lived to rejoice. 
 
 There we must leave them. 
 
CHILD LABOUR. 
 
 Once more I have eschewed conventualism, and 
 dared to put forth further details of some circus 
 and acrobat life. I have not dealt with the 
 pseudo-romantic in it, but have brought forth facts 
 in many chapters which have actually occurred. 
 
 Fearlessly I am grappling with an unsuspected 
 source of suffering, trusting in time to gain practical 
 reform, and to save those who are at this present 
 moment training under 2. secret and hideous system. 
 There is little doubt that the disclosures made in 
 Ruby and in Slaves of the Sawdust will sooner or 
 later stir the public mind, and cause a demand for 
 some simple but effective supervision during ap- 
 prenticeship. For instance, the Act which protects 
 children in our factories could be modified and ex- 
 tended to protect children in the ‘ show ' business. 
 
 Putting aside the evil of such training and the 
 hardships of the life, there is another phase to be 
 discussed, which in a sense is more degrading, more 
 contrary to humanity than even the cruelties prac- 
 tised on helpless girlhood by some mercenary 
 masters, who force them to do feats which even tax 
 the powers of male athletes. I allude to the iniquit- 
 ous system of men waxing rich upon child labour. 
 A certain class, who train girls for the ring, trapeze, 
 as acrobats, or for ‘ high shows ' and such like, live in 
 
3o8 
 
 CHILD LABOUR. 
 
 luxury, entirely on the money earned by their young 
 apprentices. It is the sad, overworked children 
 who bring large salaries weekly to their master’s 
 pocket. Is it likely that he takes infinite pains to 
 train them for their arduous feats excepting for 
 his own selfish gains ? It is no exaggeration to say 
 openly that the master who thus trains is nothing 
 less than a mere dealer in human flesh. There is 
 not one iota of difference between the bland, smil- 
 ing man who nightly introduces his weary appren- 
 tice to the public, and the slave dealers in the 
 Eastern markets, for each amasses wealth from the 
 unpaid labour of helpless fellow-creatures. 
 
 What is the remuneration during their long 
 apprenticeship for these children who are so rig- 
 orously taught, that they may give passing pleas- 
 ure to a thoughtless multitude? Food, which is 
 usually of the best, so that their strength shall be 
 sufficiently supported ; clothes, both warm and 
 comfortable — for would not chills and sickness 
 ruin the show, and the master be the greater 
 loser? — and some of the more generous occasion- 
 ally give their apprentices a few shillings for 
 pocket money. 
 
 This is all, for seven or ten weary years — ay, 
 fifteen years in some cases — whilst they are earning 
 large salaries for their exacting proprietors. Alas ! 
 for the workers there are few rewards. Yet as in 
 every other occupation there are valuable prizes 
 ready for those who have stamina and ability, but 
 how many of all apprentices gain the prizes ? 
 
 What the public should insist upon is regis- 
 tration, a periodical census of the numbers of 
 apprentices and the numbers of those who are in 
 the profession at the age of thirty years. More 
 important still, the people should know what has 
 become of the absentees. By this means it would 
 
CHILD LABOUR. 
 
 309 
 
 be easy to trace how many were worked out at the 
 end of their apprenticeship, and how many left the 
 profession in disgust. It has been said to me by 
 more than one person, ‘ Is it likely a master will 
 part with a valuable apprentice because the term 
 of indenture expires ? ' My reply is, that these 
 men, with honourable exceptions, know perfectly 
 well that their pupils would not remain with them, 
 because the master could not afford to pay his late 
 apprentice salaries equal to the amounts he, or she, 
 has earned for him. Again, as these men live on un- 
 paid labour, they arrange to have other apprentices 
 following on to replace those who are out of their 
 time. 
 
 As a rule the responsibility of training does not 
 lie with the proprietors and managers who engage 
 ‘shows’ for the entertainment of their patrons. 
 Whatever their moral responsibility, there are few 
 who trouble to inquire how the members of any 
 particular troupe were brought to such perfection 
 as to justify engagements at high salaries, or care 
 that the sooner the hapless apprentice can earn 
 for his or her master, the better for him. Quick 
 perfection is the desideratum, so to that end the 
 trainer works them morning, noon, and night. 
 
 Is it right that men should be allowed to live on 
 child labour and eat the bread gained by so much 
 suffering? Is it just that trembling children and 
 growing girls should be slaving in the heat and 
 glare of crowded circuses and music-halls night 
 after night in all our great cities, and so that 
 their masters may reap the harvest of severity ? 
 
 ‘No! no!’ the people cry with one voice, but 
 they forget that it is the morbid taste of an in- 
 considerate public which is the cause of the evil, 
 for it demands more and more difficult feats, 
 and sad though it be, so long as there is a demand 
 
310 
 
 CHILD LABOUR. 
 
 in the market, the supply will be forthcoming, as 
 surely as in other commodities. 
 
 The men who are so degraded as to live on the 
 earnings of childhood are not those from whom we 
 can expect mercy while preparing the victims of 
 their greed. 
 
 What will men not do for gain ? 
 
 Before concluding, I wish to mete out justice to 
 those in the profession who rightly deserve to be 
 exonerated from blame, and to whose names no 
 stigma can be attached. There are many such 
 who have given me valued assistance in my work, 
 who have stood by me in the fight, and who are 
 ready now to support my efforts. To them I 
 give my heartiest thanks. 
 
 ‘ Ah, yet, tho’ all the world forsake, 
 
 Tho’ fortune clip my wings, 
 
 I will not cramp my heart, nor take 
 Half views of men and things.’ 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 COLSTON AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. 
 

A WONDERFUL MEDICINE 
 
 I BEECHAM’S PILLS 
 
 BEECHAMS PILLS 
 BEEGHAM’S PILLS 
 BEECHAM S PILLS 
 BEEGHAM’S PILLS 
 BEECHAMS PILLS 
 BEECHAM S PILLS 
 BEEGHAM’S PILLS 
 BEECHAM S PILLS 
 BEECHAM S PILLS 
 BEECHAMS PILLS 
 BEECHAM S PILLS 
 BEECHAMS PILLS 
 I BEEGHAM’S PILLS 
 I BEECHAM S PILLS 
 
 Are universally admitted to be worth a Guinea 
 a Box for Bilious and’ Nervous Disorders, 
 such as wind and pain in the Stomach, 
 Sick Headache, Giddiness, Fulness and 
 Swelling after Meals, Dizziness and Drow- 
 siness, Cold Chills, Flushings of Heat, Loss of 
 Appetite' Shortness of Breath, Costiveness, 
 Scurvy, Blotches on the Skin, Disturbed Sleep, 
 Frightful Dreams, and all Nervous and Trem- 
 bling Sensations, &c. I'he First Dose will Give 
 Belief in Twenty Minutes. This is no fic- 
 tion, for they have done it in countless cases. 
 Every sufferer is earnestly invited to try one 
 Box of these Pills, and they will be acknow- 
 ledged to be 
 
 Worth a GUINEA a Box. 
 
 For Females of all ages these Pills are 
 invaluable, as a few doses of them carry 
 off all humours, o^en all obstructions, and 
 bring about all that is required. No female 
 should be without them. There is no medicine 
 to be found to equal BEECHAM’IS 
 PILLS for removing any obstruction or 
 irregularity of the system. I f taken according 
 to the directions given with each Box, they will 
 soon restore females of all ages to sound and 
 robust health. This has been proved b\' thou- 
 sands who have tried them and found the 
 benefits which are ensured by their use. 
 
 For a Weak Stomach, Impaired Digestion, 
 and all disorders of the liver, they act like 
 magic, and a few doses will be found to work 
 wonders upon the most important organs in the 
 human machine. They strengthen the whole 
 muscular system, restore the long lost complex- 
 ion, bring back the keen edge of appetite, and 
 arouse into action, with the rosebud of health, 
 the whole physical energy of the human frame. 
 These are faces testified continually by members 
 of all classe.i of society ; and one of the best 
 guarantees to the nervous and debilitated is 
 BEECHAhFS PILLS have the largest sale 
 or any patent medicine in the world. 
 
 FULL DIRECTIOKS ARE GIVEN 
 WITH EACH BOX. 
 
 Sold by all Druggists and Patent Medicine 
 Dealers everywhere, in Boxes at 
 Is. l^d. and 2s. 9d.