Welsh Newspapers

Search 15 million Welsh newspaper articles

Hide Articles List

12 articles on this Page

A THORN IN THE TYRE.

News
Cite
Share

I (Ivpyright.) 1 A THORN IN THE TYRE. SHIRLEY RAYNARD. jfQl?r "A Les3on for Life," "A Stroke of toltune, A Wife's Temptation," "A Widow's Love Story," "A Cruel Christmas Fate," &c. blui tld on. Gray had learnt to ride the bicycle, V)ln^ saved sufficient money out of her dress allowance, had purchased a machine own. Money was scarce at Brand ford where Marion lived alone with her father times it strained all the girl's eePitf8 ma^e both o;1 tis meet in the house- "Apartment, over which she had presided jj. r seven long year. therefore, with a sense of having over many difficulties that she pulled ^hi old wooden gate and led out the new a^l sparkling in the early March sun- «he girl lo&ked wonderful iy pretty as Vd Urit ed lightly and sped away upon the M 8h- high road. Her spirits rose higher »nh rode further and further from home, and j# four's time all her worries were forgotten, \jbi°n Was Reginald (iray's only child. She *he her father's close "companion ever since to(idle by his side. Of her mother she helDf e<* little, and it was not through any foiti her father that the little she did know |i(iver Gained in her memory. Of his wife he Oq^, sPoke. She was the skeleton in his cup- ^he fi' and it was the effort of his life to keep fie*r uPon it. ^i«Hd^aS a Prouc' and silent man and had few Ever since that memorable September f'oih Wenty years ago, he had shut, himself off boOks SOClety and lived quietly amongst his 1'a.y a at the Grange. His daughter was his one Weight. He had watched her grow to ifto °°d» giving her every care, and supply- It^ as possible the place of both parents, Wt? only lately that he had realised how ^ul she had grown. It had been his dread *he -8he should become like her mother, but as ^ifte/^oped, she proved to be of an entireN- ^t type, and he was satisfied that 11 fftijer^?t observer would not see the slighte t Vld lce- S1,e was of a firm tll0U&h slight V and lithe, with bright colour and Vwr0Wn hair- Just such hair as his 0W111,ad to 8il^fore that fateful September had turned it r(»de ten good miles before she t i-s- S»Ve, She was a fearless girl, and never ^ejH> ou8ht to the loneliness of the road The H*inci.efJ*as Perfect; one of those days in early that seem bursting with the promise of h«S SUmmer- The violets were growing in bottoms, and the birds pouring forth a *ong overhead. It was a fine stretch of 5<Htl r? trough which the road passed, Brand* M «. range being situated just on the outskirts _amall country town of Ritford, and fifteen V) n. Y°m the larger one of Brampton. It was Hihj 'atter place that Marion had made up her >. go on this her first long bicjcle ride. t not told her father of her intention, 111<l to make him nervous on her account. Since she had been out of the school- iC' slle had been accustomed to come and go tr,48 she thought fit, her father being often, hours at a stretch, engaged in hi# studies. dismounted to read the milestone, which ^ion er she was yet five miles from her destina- 'ill «an<* then began to walk the somewhat long Coii}<} r<f11 the summit of which, on a bright day, clearly be seen the town of Brampton. colour rose, for she was warm from the to exertion, and her whole being seemed With excitement and healthy pleasure. W.bad driven several times into Brampton ^*ith her lather on the few occasions livtt i allowed the extravagance of a carriage. ^W- never seemed to have understood how -ul the country was, nor to have ever inhaled so mauv delicious scents. reaching the crest of the hill, she ^hpiUnted and began to spin merrily down the I-/ 81<3e. She had gone about fifty yards when the e thorn which wa3 lying in the middle of ca,1ght her tyre, and threw her heavily *%i*Upon her right side. She was for some *h8 i"8 stunned by the shock, and remained as ^8 ™.fallen' but ir> short time her conscious- i^fun t ed' &nd she began to lift herself J°m «nder her machine. She waa Jhat sh* ?°re, and, to her dismay, sh8 found ^egan to^ not stand, and her right ankle What Ve her severe pain. *s she sat^ 1 40 do ? » she exclaimed to herself 'Aide of the ro Wn against the grassy bank at the e act. (j sol t. of Uw jifficultv appeared, and 1.1PWard aIed in much the same position for; sOan hour. when. to her delight, she tiist figur coming along- be road, in the fas Vld Slle ate)led it eagerly drawing nearer Of Nearer until within about a hundred yardi to here he sat, when it suddenly turned ofl the rijit, went over the field, and dis- ^Peared into a small conse. She tried to shout w.81^ felt her hows dying within her, but her ij-Was wt ak with pain, and she produced; ^M ect J then, womanlike, the burst into tears j smiled at herself for her foolishness. now high noon, -md nature was looking l0rjv. beautiful, but slv gazed round upon the thin road afid her l-rokon bicycle, and felt any- "8: but coTitent. -\t last a sound of wheels 4 (i "eard, and hope one? more rose within her. the ig:Cart (Jrove swiftly- along the road, and as he river caught sight' of her prostrate figure ^Pulled up quickly, threw the reins to his ancj steppe-.l down at her side. am a)raid you have h^d an accident," he ^7 gravely. What, can I do to help you ^ln'UUl'f J"011' she said, "I shall be glad of, V I think I ir broken my nnkle. A thorny caught in my tyre and threw me heavily." ¡111 You have no objection i will take you <JJ° rny house, which is only a few minutes' W6 from here' ailL' thea AVC shall be able to see 8e^t is best to be done, I think a doctor's Joyces should be called in at once. Delay i- jP^ten serious in such cases." raised her gently from the ground, and w °st lifted her into the dog-cart. She could tqo\>, Prevent a suppressed groan, for the pain of « ei"ent \7aa very great. aa,iq, 1 am hurting you very much," he "civ. into hev white suffering face, c t;V' said Marion, bravely,"I must bear it broking t- groom instructions to; bring on the he drove off, and then Marion Or: ^ook at her deliverer. He was a tall, a:>p,ll)rjuidt,red man of about thirty-five jear hut tfk had brown hair and a tanned skin, t struck Marion most was his apparent Quiet, and self-possessed, he seemed the I\ be d pended upon in a difficulty. He ashio *u';y dressed, but not in the height of and his linen was spotless. they 18 my home," he said, presently, as through an old stone gateway and up thenuc or ''me trees. "I hope you will do Pleasure to make whatever use of it yovi *lo .I}' housekeeper and friend will, I know. -jn 111 h"r power to help you." was flung open as he pulled up, and, explaining that an accident had d f' f'o.e lady, he lifted Marion from the kiy atld n; ;[.d her slowly across the square old %,inUd what anj.eared to be the library. *ble P £ her upon the sofa, he found all the avail- ^itcJ^shions, and made her as comfortable as "Jf stances would then went in search Grayham, whom he met hurrying to see what was the matter. very dreadful!" she said. "I never S>e e bicycles for ladies. They seem to ^shi too dangerous—but then I am old- O'led, she added, with a winning smile. ^tiv think the best plan will be for me to OVer an(l fetch Walton myself," said tho 6ill J of Mosslands, reflectively. "I know yam ■Vh a11 you can in the meantime, Mrs. })l ,f n*m, for j fear the girl is very faint and \y* Hiu1 these wora3 he turned and left the house (Ni il. passed on to the library. Marion y back with her eyes closed when Mrs. °°tf&nm entered, and she did not hear her light <tj 1 Upon the thick carpet. f li?* 80 S0lTy, dear," said a soft voice at causing her to start and turn her "Th speaker. b^ttg you," said Marion, faintly, "I feel *n I did, except the pain in my foot." Tatted^?l Grayham looked into her face, she hep suddenly, a recollection had come rei'°ver*? 'eeollection of twenty years ago. She herself, however, before Marion had SW « em°tion, and began gently to take rorn the wounded foot. later Marion was still in the lre. v her couch drawn up to a comfortable S^0llen w»lton had l>een and bandaged the j j-1y 8P^ which he said had had an unusu- 'u pati 6 "Prain. He strongly advised that ^s, fQ en' 8hould, ;i possible, remain where she JJrg p* ^ew days at least. to011* a r^yham was ..firing out a cup of tea ari°u °ainty littl? stTvic, trying to console 0r her imprisonment. a^raid I shall be such a trouble to watching the elder lady as she •^wuliy about the room. "And then I 11 there is my fatnei, 1 don't really know wnat 1k will do without me." "Mr. Ashton has gone to explain to your father all the circumstances of the accident," said ■ Mrs. Grayham. "We thought it better than f sending a message by a servant." "That is too kind of him," said Marion, warmly, "I am sure I have wasted a great part of his day." "Not wasted," said Mrs. Grayham, smiling M felie sat down and began to poke the fire into a blaze. j They chatted on for some time, getting more and more at home with each other. Mrs. Grayham's eyes seemed irresistibly drawn to the girl's face, and Marion, at length looking up, found that they were filled with tears. Late in the afternoon Mr. Ashton returned. He walked at once into the library, to relieve Marion's mind about her father. He sat down by the sofa and explained how he had found him in his study, and how he had broken gently to him about his daughter's accident. "He will be over to see you in the morning," he concluded, as he took up a cup of tea which Mrs. Grayham had placed upon the table at his side. He did not notice how she turned from her tea-tray and bent over her knitting to hide the flush which rose to her face. The morning brought Mr. Gray to see his daughter. He found her in her room, in which she was advised to remain for a day or two. He was shewn up by a servant. When he came downstairs, Mr. Ashton met him in the hall and invited him to remain for luncheon, which, how- ever, he refused, saying that he must return at once. Mrs. Grayham did not appear. The sprain turned out to be very serious, and it was some weeks before the doctor pronounced Marion to be fit for the drive home. She had been at Mosslands for three weeks, and was 1expecting to return to the Grange in a few days now. Mr. Ashton had insisted that she should not go until she was quite herself again, and Dr. Walton, seeing how well his patient progressed under the present arrangement, said that it was better she should remain where she was. It was evening-the curtains had been drawn for some time, and Marion, weary of her book, lay back idly in a large chair, looking dreamily into the fire. Mrs. Grayham had gone up to dress, an operation which she always put off to the last possible moment. Marion did not hear the door open, and gave a little start when Ralph Ashton walked quietly up to her side. "I am sorry if I startled you," said he; "you must have been in a brown study. Shall I offer you a penny for your thought* ? "I am afraid they would be dear at the price," said she, smiling. "My father was here this afternoon," added she, to change the sub- ject. "I told him I should be able to return in a day or two now. I have walked a few yards [ to-day for the first time." "Mrs. Grayham told me so," said he, "and I have been trying to be pleased ever since. By the bye, how uncommonly fond my old lady has become of you these few weeks! I don't know how she will get on without you to pet and fondle; it seems to have become second nature with her." "She has indeed been good to me. I don't know how I am ever to thank her for all her kindness, or you either, Mr. Ashton," said the girl, looking up frankly into his face. ""Well, I mean to ask you to do something for me one of these days, and perhaps you will not refuse." "I only wish I knew what I could do in re- turn for all the trouble I have been." At this moment dinner waa announced, and Ralph rose. "Do you think I might hare the pleasure of helping you into the aining-ropm ? said he; "I am sure it will be more cheerful than having a tray to yourself here. I will be very gentle," he said, his deep eyes looking earnestly down upon her. "Thank you, I think I can manage with just a little help." He placed her hand firmly upon his arm, and they 8K>wly crossed the hall to the dining-room, meeting Mrs. Grayham at the door. Dinner-time passed quickly and happily away, each one seemed in good spirits, and Marion, with heightened colour, looked very pretty in her soft tea-gown trimmed with old lace, which had belonged to her mother. The whole evening was one long to be remembered. Ralph was a charm- ing host when he chose to exert himself, and to-night his conversation touched upon the brilliant. There was a ring of happiness in his tones, too, which struck Mrs. Grayham as some- thing new. Marion was happy also. She was in her element; but her thoughts would some- times return to Brandford Grange and her lonely life there. Here she felt that she lived the life she was truly fitted for. As she sat by her bedroom Are, later, living the evening over again in her thoughts, a hght tap was heard at the door, and Mrs. Grayham entered. She sat down by Marion's side, and took her hand into both of her own. "I have come to make a confession," she said, struggling to keep her composure. "Marion, do you know who I am ? 0 Marion darling, I am your mother!" "That cannot be," said Marion in startled tones; "my mother died when I was a little child." "You were told that as being the best possible explanation, and have believed it, but you would not have lived long in the world without someone telling you that your mother still lived." "Then why did you leave my father?" said the girl almost sternly. "I did not leave him until he told me to go. He believed me capable of a great fault-a sin, which I swear to you, my child, I never com- mitted. I was a handsome woman in those days and I had admirers, and your father was an exceedingly jealous man. He once found me in circumstances which, unexplained, seemed to condemn me. Had he remained cool I would have explained all, and so have saved twenty years of misery for both of us. He would not listen, I was proud-and we parted. I remained for many years at a distance, but an overpowering longing a] to see my child brought me back into the neigh- bourhood, and though I had never seen you since I returned until you were brought helpless into the house, yet I have constantly heard of you and your doings, and have lived upon that. "Poor mother," said Marion, almost beneath her breath, the big tears filling her lovely eyes. The next morning Marion had a long interview with her father, who had come to see her, as he thought, for the last time at Mosslands. He seemed to age perceptibly when he had heard all that his daughter had to tell him. "God forgive, me!" he said bitterly, as he turned to leave the house. In passing the drawing-room door he caught sight of a figure which he had not seen for twenty long years. Mrs. Grayham looked up, and their eyes met. She walked unsteadily towards him, but he rushed forward and clapped her in his arms. In that moment the twenty long years were forgotten. An hour passed, and Marion listened anxiously for her father to leave the house. She had been her mother's champion, telling him of his long S —if. jw &-tSV?l £ 'b5S £ 5 tetEfpptae.s. r^^khe,i5SS,3?SSjS she saw upon her face the li?h g 2 y The girl said nothing, only drawing e cai face down to her own and kissing ry tenderly. "I am going home, Marion," said the elder woman at length, "home after twenty years absence. "0 mother dear, I'm so happy," said the girl, "so very, very happy!" It was Monday morning—the day of Marion's return. Her mother had agreed to remain a few days longer, that Ralph Ashton might look for her I successor. Marion's luggage had been sent on to i the Grange, and she was now waiting for the dog-cart to come round, for the master of Moss- lands insisted upon driving his guest home him- self. Mrs. Grayham had been called away to see visitors, and Marion was left to her own thoughts, which were by no means unpleasant ones. She stood at the window looking down the long drive. Spring flowers were growing in the borders, and the sun was shining brightly, as on the day she came. What a change had passed over her life since then! Nothing would ever be quite the same again. Her home life would be different. There would be no more loneliness, for her mother would, after a few days, be her constant companion. She was thinking how, in the few days' interval, she would furbish up the old home, bringing out certain things from the lumber-room -certain things which had belonged specially to her mother. She had often wondered why her father never seemed able to bear the sight of them, and why, when on one occasion she had brought down a work-table, he had bade her almost sternly to carry it back to its hiding-place. All that was changed now, and she thought how she would arrange all the dainty little possessions, and make it look as much like the home of twenty years ago as possible. And there were other thoughts in her mind—thoughts of Mosslands and the pleasant few weeks she had spent within its walls. No-she would never forget; it should be a bright little memory which she wo lid treasure until she was old. I Just then Ealph Ashton entered the room. He came over and stood beside her, watching the sun glint upon her bright hair. "And so," he said. 11-1 am to lose my gPtit. She is determined to go." "Don't say that, please," said Marion; "you know how very grateful I am for all jour kind* ness to me. I shall never forget my visit." And yet you repay me by taking away my perfect housekeeper—the one woman upon whom I could depend in life. I am afraid it is the usual fate of the Good Samaritan," said he, laughing. "The next time I find a lady who has come to grief through rash riding I shall pass by on the other side." "I think you would soon come back," returned she, playfully; "I cannot fancy you shirking a duty. "Oh, yes, a duty," said he. "I had not looked at it in that light." Marion toyed with the window-cord, looking carefully out upon the lawn, for she was at a loss what to say next. Just then, to her relief, the visitors took their ceparture, and her mother entered the room. Ralph turned away to the hall, and began to put on his coat ana driving gloves, whilst Marion was helped into her jacket by her mother. Then the trap drove up to the door, and he came in to fetch his charge. "Can you trust her with me ? he said quietly, with hidden meaning in his tones, to Mrs. Gray- ham, as he left her upon the steps. (õ I have always found you faithful," she said, as she stepped back within the doorway. He dismissed the groom, took up the reins, and they were gone. They were silent for a few minutes as they drove down the avenue and turned into the hard high road. Then, when they were about half a mile from Mosslands. be slackened rein and turned to his companion. "Do you remember one evening, not long ago, our having a chat over the library fire ?" he said. "I remember several chats over the fire," said she, turning to look at a tree newly burst into leaf, "but I don't know to which you refer." "I am sorry for that, "said he; "I have always understood that when people make a promise they are supposed to at least remember that they have made one." "Oh, I do remember promising to do some- thing for all your kindness, but I never supposed there really was anything I could do for you." "So that is the way you shew your gratitude to the man who picked you up by the roadside." He bent over and looked at her. She felt her face flush under his gaze, and dared not lift her eyes to his. Suddenly she felt her hand gripped tightly, and he was saying, passionately: "Marion, I love you, my darling. I have loved you ever since I found you. Will you come, back and be my wife ? She could not speak, her heart was full—full of a great happiness. She had schooled herself not to imagine such a happiness, but-now her heart bounded within her, and she knew that she loved him with her whole soul. "Will you not speak to me?" he said -at length, when her silence had become unbearable to him. "Is it impossible that you should love me ? he said, quietly. She looked at him now, a full, calm gaze of perfect faith and trust. "I do love you," she said, simply. "I shall love you to my life's end." And so it came about that Moeslands and the Grange changed mistresses. Ralph is never tired of telling his friends how he found his wife by the roadside, and he says if it' had not been for the invention of the bicycle he should still be to old bachelor. Marion has her own carriage and horses, but she has never deserted the bicycle. She often smiles as she passes along the road, and remembers how she sat helpless in the blazing sun. She rides well now, but with caution, for she remembers her first long ride when a thorn caught her tyre. (To END.]

INDUCTION OF A NEW MINISTER…

,A Book for Ladies.

IPorth Tecfyjical Glasses

THE PONTYPRIDD SCHOOL IBOARDS…

Advertising

Alderman John Jones Criffiths,…

ilClJdach Yale Notes.

SALE OF WORK -AT HAFOD.

-----------MINERS' WAGES.

Advertising

!RHONDDA CYMMRODORION.