The Montgomery County Times and Shropshire and Mid-Wales Advertiser

I [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGBNIENT-I THE FORGE" OF LIFE, BY J. MONK FOSTER, Author of A Pit-Brow Lassie," "The Cotton King," Slaves of Fate," The Watchman J of OrscHi MYHS." In Snow Written. Judith Saxon," The Queen of the Factory," Ac., &c. COPYRIGHT. Vim- >• tin- flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrough And 011 its sounding anvil shaped vv:. ™™i,g .J <^«jlow. Cu.PTSB XXVTI -LlF=r8 JiSf tad j with Molly Ashbourne, and tlie stre room. | behind him, the :n.il-sprl ^t'^ as her wooer had The n ni:izi'<t beantv "s ^ti I J) p 8howed the con- left her, mid the .xpression ot het face fiief: which was being silently murmured in an i • Well Molly, A^nSweatworth | mgiMtuitory w;iy, What uaa tosavtoyou?' „ future husband.' < He asLl me to accept him a my future gaid was the girl's quite unimp.^ssio mother's consent also that he had already obtained^ mother to out- considering ourselves en„ r, nay, can see And you accepted him. dear. jt? ly as her eager Mrs Ashbourne cried lowly o trinkets on the table. eyes caught sight of the rf.tter«W ^nket^^ No, I couldn t do that > yet- Frank wouldn't let me .ft°tl,ese pretty and expensive 'And yet your vmtoi 1<i t fin?ered the jewelled tlimes! the niotli;d nt pleasure in her ef. ™SVTi& ii» 'odo that, ,»d I».» to pre him his answer on Sunday evening. He is coming here then May I ask^Molly! what y0^tl^"TrT .3.^1 want •J »r -tat will b, time to thinK 11 'lI1 ove „ t j,e considered. If **■ i •*»«— it were not for* the gcheminf, and gratified Without anoth thoge „0](}en gauds— mother stole away. dftUfrhter_9howed her the way in the manner ot drifting. Of the two lovers the which the,c,enwa9 the more favoured one, but the poor workmi 0f Egypt had seized on Molly desire foi her to the richer lover's arms. and would c Ashbourne was left to fight out the Meanwh jf As her mother had so shrewdly struggle m mfin an(] f> desire to possess the world's divined 10^ pulling at her heart in opposite diree- good th „ inoment she scarcoly knew in which Tn imagination she had often found herselt m her j. vwUition and had always decided hitherto in presentjosm >Bnt nQW^ whfin the real thing itgelf fV°d her she ound her mind trembling in the b lance. At one moment her loving thoughts of Frank would carry her away on her warm flood, and then she would whisper to herself that she could never give up a man she, loved for all the world. And then the hunger for the pomps and vanities of life i would drag her back again. Marriage with the iron- worker would give her nothing save the man she loved. As Frank Etlesmere's wife see would be a mere nobody — would be only little different from other workmen's wives on account of her personal beauty, and that beauty itself would be lost, wasted, hidden under a bushel, and eternally lacking the environment due to it. As Mrs Russell-Wentworth, junr., how different everything would be. Even at the moment when she allowed her well-to-do suitor to make public their engagement she would beeome the cynosure of her small world the observed of all the factory girl whose personal attr ctions had won the most eligible young man in the town, and the talk and envy of every lass and woman less well-dowered and lucky. As the wife of the great Ironmaster's son and heir how she would be looked up to and honoured. For her then life itself would become one long holiday. She could adorn herself in lovely dresses and sparkling T jewels would be waited upon and pampered like one to the manner born: might hope to see all the world's fairest places mix among the highest even see her « name in the papers be able to gratify her lightest v whim—in a phrase, might be enabled to squeeze out of 1 life all that was fairest and brightest in it. With that mood upon her she would rise and scan her alluring face and form in the gilded mirror over the mantelpiece, and in fancy see herself arrayed in costliest silks and satins would take up the jewelled trinkets her lover had left behind to plead his cause would slip the circlet of diamonds and pearls on her slender finger, where it sparkled gloriously in contrast with Frank's iimple betrothal ring would clasp the gemmed bangle on her white arm with its noble curves, and comport herself as if she were already Mrs Russell-Wentworth. And then a swift revulsion of feeling would cause her to tear ring and bangle from her and toss them upon the table, where they lay shining and darting electric gleams at her in an evil way and as she crouched in her chnir again with her hands over her face, she would wonder painfully if ever a maiden was so tempted before. The afternoon passed in some fashion, and before the night came Molly had made up her mind as to the course she would pursue. Luckily, she had not to see I Frank before the week's end. and before that time arrived she had resolved to write to him asking to be set free of her engagement. A hint to that effect would be sufficient, ahe knew, to one of his high spirit and straightforward ways; and then with her hands free she would follow the course she had marked out for herself. would be sufficient, ahe knew, to one of his high spirit and straightforward ways; and then with her hands free she would follow the course she had marked out for herself. On Sunday evening she would meet Russell-Went- worth as arranged would wear his gifts then to show him that she was willing to fall in with his dearest wishes would authorise him to take such steps as he thought advisable in the way of making their betrothal public and after that allow matters to take their | course. ,f a i But even then she would reserve to herselt tne privilege of altering her mind at any moment. any time she found Mr Russell-Wentworth factory as a lover, the thought of marriage with him ever became distasteful, and the idea of a 1 intimacy with him abhorrent, she would e!lv r + 4 without scruple, and fly back to the shelter and satety 1 of her old lover's strong arms.. That Frank could do anything but welcome his er^ sweetheart back she could not tor a moment s ppo. and of the utter uuwomanlmess of such a proceedmg i 8jle V,.U1 but a faint notion then. At their wors 1 the loveliest women can be lamentably thoughtless I respecting the rights of others, and just as despicably 1 aplfiah when their own desires are at stake.. Thus thinking Molly Ashbourne laid her pretty black i T!1U1 the pillows and a night passed in troubled dreams and broken slumbers did not add to her good looks or ease of mind in the morning, when she rose to On tb^1 previous'evening Mr, Ashbou^ had had observed then. in case you see your way to b?co™ •ngaged to Mr Russell-Wentworth jour mill will have to be given up at once. It would loo so remarkable, you know. if the betrothed wife of our great Ironmaster's son were to remain a weaver after that event became kuown.. It would,' Molly had returned, and in that case am I to do nothing until his highness marries me Noth'n°r in the way of menial labour, Mo y. Thanks to your father's industry and ness we're not without some means, an ? ;n your engagement would be profitably p y fitting you for the proud position you would have to fill as Mr Russell-Wentworth's wife. i. -i || ,f Going to her work next morning MolJy ie«Jled tto conversation, and quite suddenly, an or r in a'J her life, she grew ashamed of her workj».d^oft,e homely garments in which she was pio ,n. What "right had ahe to be shod in wooden clo s whic eli,pped noisily on the pavement to be garbed in plain skirt, long white apron, and big shawl, who might marry one of the greatest in all Pentonmoor ( The thought of it made her face crimson, and caused her to resolve more than ever to accept that offer of the previous day. On the morrow she would terminate for ever her connection with the factory, and henceforth ipend her leisure as her mother had suggested. With such a glorious prospect before her why should she be content to spend a single hour more than was necessary among mills and mill-workers ? No! She would not do so. The crown that was offered her she would wear, and not grumble overmuch because there chanced to be a thorn or two among the roses composing it. That very night she would write to Mr. Ellesmere and put an end to their brief engage- m*And it seemed quite certain now that that note of matrimonial foreclosure would be much more peremp- toryand inexorable in its terms than she had at first contemplated. j CHAPTER XXVUT.-THK Two RUSSELL- WENTWORTHS. On the day following his son's proposal to Molly Ashboiirne the new Member for home somewhat unexpectedly. o time in Americanism, he had been having a le « latest the capital, and had quite a budf«tfU^7nrthwith pro- politieal and society gossip, wine I > deliehted ceeded to pour out for the delectation K SPHeeiiad been made a member of two thref! of^the most exclusive clubs in town had been ^ked to many of the best houses in London had^ ie 11 ance of dozens of real celebrities of the fiis wa • met one or two members of the new Administration; had gossiped with Under Secretaries o J hob-nobbed with prominent members or -il P;.11' and had discovered that M.P's., obscure and brilliant authors big and little, poets, major and minor, ama adventurers of all shades and conditions were as plentiful in the Metropolis as mere ironworkers at Pentonmoor. Despite the fact that he was as yet a pouticai nonentity, he had been welcomed everywhere, for most men seemed to know that he was a man of wealth, a great captain of industry, and that lie held Pentonmoor in the hollow of his hand. His own and his wife's social work near home had not passed unnoticed even in the very highest quarters and one leading member o the Government had hinted that he bad but to work and walk circumspectly if he cared to be included among the next recipients of birthday honours. Mrs Russell- Wontwortli's floridly handsome counten- ance had assumed a deeper tinge at the suggestion of becoming Lady Ru»selI-Wentworth, and she felt I satisfied then that the work of her life had not been done in vain. And the next moment she blanched at the thought that htr darling son—the heir to a probable baronetcy-ha.d been toolish enough to engage himself to a common ironworker's daughter. How she prayed then that he might soon learn to see the folly of such a step, and beat a retreat ere it was too late. Never apprehending his wiie's confusion, the Iron- mnstw sped en with his eonSdonees. He had but re- turned to Moorhurst for a few days. In a week or so he was due at Lo-d Strathbrodrick's place in the Scottish Highlands, where a most distinguished party were to stay for the shooting. Of course, when Parliament met they would have to secure a house in Town; he had been thinking seriously, too, that the time had almost arrived when they should I move further away from Pentonmoor. He he had heard of a fine place in one of the home counties Brax- holme Park, in Sussex—which was in the market, and might suit them but they could think it over, and he would cause the necessary inquiries to be made by some responsible agent. So he rattled on in the best of humours, and at length his wife plucked up courage to speak of their son's ridiculous and impossible love affair. He was amazed of course, and he swore a little under his breath at his son's asinine folly but he did not storm, as she had quite expected, and seemed to think it the silly escapade of a pampered young ass, who had not yet discovered what was due from, and good for, himself, his parents, and their common position. He declined, however, to take the engagement seriously, even when she protested that their darling w s desperately in love with the really beautiful girl. Such a thing was as natural in a young ass as measles in a child but their son, it seemed, lacked the balance to keep himself from plunging deeper than most callow youngsters did. Of course he would have to speak to Russell about it. But all the same the thing was a mistake. When he tired of the lass in a few months, as lie was sure to do, his discardment of her was bound to create any amount of petty scandal, !-Iud, lie supposed, the lacerated heart of the disconsolate maiden, and the outraged feelings of her parents, would have to be physicked with a few hundreds of pounds sterling- perhaps thousands. Later the new Member for Pentonmoor did speak to his son, but it was in a way that neither mother nor offspring had anticipated. It was an hour or so before dinner, and both men were strolling in the grotnds, the elder man smoking one of the choice and expensive cigars he affected, while the younger son was inhaling the fragrance of a cigarettee. Without the least preamble the Ironmaster began. Your mother tells me, Russell,' he remarked, with a cynical smile on his handsome face, that you have been amusing yourself in a somewhat remarkable fashion while I have been away.' I Amusing myself the young fellow muttered, as he glanced in an uncomprehending manner at father's half-contemptuous face. In what way, sir?' By playing the part of clown in some farce, comedy, or melodrama-call it what you will—which is about to be produced here at Pentonmoor, with all the good folk of the district for an audience of scoffers or admirers.' I do not understand, sir, to what you are alluding.' 'You don't? Then let me make myself plain. What can it be save a burlesque or screaming farce, wherein you and this pretty Molly Ashbourne play the principal roles ? Whether you are to be villain or hero I am not quite certain yet, but from what I hear, the virtuous and poor young ironworker, whose sweetheart you are tempting away from the paths of lowly goodness, must be the hero.' I did not expect, father, that you would look kindly upon our engagement, but I did hope that you would treat it seriously, and consent to it also when you learned that I had set my heart upon it!' the young man said firmly. So the farce is tft be played out, then, Russell, to the merry end where the curtain comes down amidst peals of laughter?' the Ironmaster queried, with a little burst of ironic laughter. What is the modern version of Cophetua and the Beggar Maid to be known as ? The Forgeman's Daughter and the Ironmaster's Son,' wouldn't be a bad title, but that would smack too much of sentiment-and this, as I have said, is merely an extravaganza.' It is more serious than you imagine, father!' the son cried with white lips. I love Miss Ashbourne, and I have asked her to be my wife!' You tell me that, my dear boy,' with another light laugh, and yet you seem to miss altogether the really comical character of the whole thing. Serious, you say Well, what of that? Don't all young asses of twenty write their whims down as that r' You refuse to sanction my engagement to her then ?' the junior demanded. I expected that as a natural consequence of the girl's humble station but I did hope that some consideration might be extended to her on account of her great beauty.' And undeniable smartness in hooking you,' the Member of Parliament added. But you err in running aw¡y with such an idea, my dear Russell. To oppose this pretty scheme of yours would only be to lend an element of tragedy to the farce and that might give it a much longer lease of life than it can have otherwise.' You consent then to the engagement ?' 'No! no! Not even that. You. cannot expect me to lend my sanction to such a palpable comedy and, on the other hand, I feel quite unfitted for the role of heavy and unrelenting parent. So you will be good enough to go your own way, and when the bubble bursts I shall be able to cry—' Well, didn't I tell you so ? And wasn't I right to laugh ?' But the pity of it is that you cannot be sensible enough to stop the business at once.' You are very hard, father!' young Russell exclaimed in pained tones. I would almost have preferred that you objected to the match altogether rather than looked at it in such a way. I tell 'you that I love Miss Ash- bourne devotedly —with all my heart-and I shall never change Of that I feel positive.' There speaks the callow youth again,' the father jibed with an exasperating snigger. There is no such cock-sureness like the cock-sureness of almighty ignor- ance. If you are sure, play the game of folly for all it is worth, and when you find out your mistake, and the world is laughing at you, don't go snivelling like a whipped kid.' But the engagement is to be one of long duration- a matter of two or three years at the least; and in that time I shall find out, I suppose, whether I am playing the fool or not, as you say,' the young man suggested plaintively. Exactly.' That is just what you will do. But haven't you wit enough to see the predicament in which you are placing yourself ? At any moment this girl can cast you aside, and you will have no remedy for your wounded heart. But if, at some future period, you desire to put an end to your folly you will do it at your own risk and some considerable expense. Such a captivating young damsel would appeal strongly to a sentimental jury, composed of stolid British fathers. eaoh one, probably, with a daughter in the market, and the damages she would be able to recover from the son of Russell-Wentworth, Ironmaster, member for Penton- moor—possibly Sir Rilssell-Went worth, Bart., M.P., by that time—would in all likehood make a hole in five thousand pounds.' But'I tell you that such a contingency is not pos- sible the son cried, irritated beyond measure by his father'* flippancy first, and afterwards by his sensible view of the matter. I love this woman, and I mean to marry her How many thousand of youngsters have sworn the same thing when the first fair face caught their fan-jy I venture to sumit that you will love half-a-dozen charming damsels—each succeeding one more passion- ately than her predecessor—before you are five and twenty and in the end you will marry another, and thank heaven you missed all the rest. But come, we have had enough of this, and I am ready for dinner.' But Russell-Wentworth, junior, remarked, as they turned towards the house, what if I still care for Miss Ashbourne after three years' time as I do now ?' Then in that case the folly will be fast resolving itself into a criminal blunder!' was the scathing re- minder But of all this enough. I have spoken my mind and have done. I believe in leading young men, but I strongly object to driving them. You must think the matter over and act as you think be«t. CHAPTER XXIX.-THB CASTING AWAY OF LOVE It was Saturday evening, shortly after the hour of seven and the Market Place, already familiar to the reader was presenting its usual aspect of week-end activity Townsfolk and country people were lounging the street corners and shop windows, or hurrying to and from the Market Hall, the public-houses around n thriving and noisv trade, and the warm we.re atmosphere was filled w'ith the faint murmurous i nf humanity meet and speak and pass. Just outside the throng at one quiet corner I rank just outsi i- lookin0, stalwart and handsome Ellesmere "«8 •jjjJfc' ,lt witli himself »nd the rr' rM He was awaiting the coming of his sweet- whole world. H a quftrter of an hour or beginning to wonder what was delaying the usually punctual damsel. Molly. Then they had arranged to days had oblivious of the vital change ii,pre counting the wrought, the happy lover hf erf his minutes which kept the hard thought side, but never dreaming of even 1 e against her.. moment fair and Had he but known it, even atthat morn^ aspiring Molly Ashbourne l^d 'iot on y had herself as his sweetheart and affiance en(j to actually penned the words which woul ce 0f the their engagement. But, nappy in his lg i he^an truth, he waited a few minutes longer, and the „ to stroll through Marlborough Street. „Vinnt to He had paused opposite No. 59, and raise the brightly black-leaded knocker, w Vnew door opened, and a pleasant-faced woman wi Frank looked out from the threshold. Iu a ioncrh had learned that Luke Ashbourne, his wife and da ter, had all gone out together half an hour before but the kindly neighbour was unaware of their destmatio and so. after thanking her, Frank departed, annoy little now, yet still unsuspicious of the pending trouble. Meeting some workmates, the young forgeman spent the remainder of the evening in their company. Next morning his eyes were suddenly and rudely opened to the truth. He was astir betimes, was standing at the front door, drinking in the balmy morning air, when the postman placed a registered letter in his h nds. A glance revealed Molly Ashbourne as the writer, and going indoors--but avoiding the kitchen, where Simon at breakfast -he tore open the cover in the parlour. First of all he noticed a small flat package, wrapped up in tissue paper, and when he unfolded it a pretty circlet of gold, set with a few simple stones of no great value, la The8n°hisrmouth closed grimly, and his handsome face blanched a little. It was his own ring—the ring he had hinuelf slipped on Molly's slim krown finger a faw months before; the plorige of their mutual affeo I tion and betrothal. With tremulous fingers he l hen spread otiz. Moby's luxe which run ha follows: 59. Marlborough Street, August 17th, 18—. 'Mr EUesuiere,— After considering tus* tjiatrer for several days I have come tel the conclusion tlud our engagement was a grave mistake, and J, iliere- fore, a"k you t,o accept tlii- letter as a proof that T wish to bring it to an end Nav, more, this note must end all ties previously existing between us, and I beg to ask you as a man of spirit and a e tie- man to take no steps of any kind with a view to renewing our intimacy on the old terms. I have made up my mind that everything is over for ever between us, and I insist upon your respecting my wishes and determination in this matter. I request, likewise, that you will not approach me again in any way, either personally or by letter, with a view to learning why I have. changed mv mind. It is sufficient for you to know that I have changed, and tlHH "neh chauga itj irrevocable. I desire you to act now as if we had never been more to one another than oidinary friends, and to remember always that we can never be even on speaking tvrms again—at least not for years to come. Perhaps, in justice to yourself, I ought to say that nothing ever done or fain by you has influenced me in arriving at rhese conclusions. It is mv wish that we should part; I have found that I do not care to be your wife, and there the matter ends. I forward your ring, and remain, yours respectfully, I m ai-v Ashbourne.' He read the foregoing words once, twice, thrice, in quick succession, and at each time of readiug the bitter, ominous, and relentless words sank deeper into hi& soul. Bit by bit the fresh colour had left his cheeks; word by word that bewildering letter had been absorbed and had changed his whole being with gall and wormwood; even the very sweetness and fairness of that Sabbath autumn morninir seemed to be extinguished by thope damning letters traced by so fair a hand. Then H sudden revulsion of feeling swept over and surged through the yonngmau. His heart rose in hottest, maddest revolt against the alluring witch who had dismissed him from her life and thoughts in such an abominable manner, and thrusting letter and ring into his pocket he strode from the room with Bashing eyes. Half an hour later the young forgeman, attired in his Sunday best, was striding through the pleasant country side, nursing his wrath, fomenting his wonder, and cudgelling his brains to account for this sudden and inexplicable change in Molly Ash bourne. Had he cared for the tn acherous maid less he might have cherished his bitterness against her much longer; but soon he found himself trying to explain away the apparent cruelty and utter baseness of the position Molly had seen fit to place herself in. Knowing what he did he forthwith jumped to the conclusion that the girl's hand had been forced. Mrs Ashbourne, or young Russell-Wentworth, was at the bottom of it all. Thesa two were his natural enemies; all along they had scarcely cared to dis- guise their antipathv to him and, as the result of their combined action, the poor lass had been forced, no doubt reluctantly, to cast him aside so mercilessly. That Molly had ceased to care for him he could not—he would not believe. Less than a sliort week since hadn't she assured him that he was the only m- an on earth for whom she had ever cared a rap ? And yet now she told him that for ever henceforth they were to be as strangers; that she did not desire to -narry him that he was not to approach her in any way, nor even think of speaking to her for years; ard that all these sweeping changes were irrevocable. Still she had exonerated him from all blame. That long sultry day in August was the blackest and bitterest his YOIWg life had ever known. Morn- ing, afternoon and evening, he wandered aimlessly about Pentonmoor, for he was too ashamed to show himself at home with the traces of the scath- ing conflict upon his face; and the black, barren hours drifted past him, etich one more mnspeakably bitter than the last. Now he was lying in some sheltered wood!and nook and trying to imagine what the coming years must be without one rare face and sweet voice to relieve their immeasurable misery and aridness anon he would be scurrying along a quiet country lane, with clenched hands, flashed face, and heated brain, hie fiery thoughts keeping pace with his swift feet, and almost resolved to storm hell itself in order to tear Molly Ashbourne from those who were driving them asunder. Later-it was evening then, and the twilight was failing-he found himself on the Pentonmoor up- lands. He was lying amidst the dry sun-bnrnt grass, with his face to the dusky heavens, and pondering in a dull, torpid way the problem which* had so unexpectedly clouded his young life. He had been there an hour or more. Now and again voices had floated to him from the highroad, and at length, feeling chilled to the bone and more disconsolate than ever, he rose, stretched himself, and went towards Old Penton. As he trudged slowly and moodily along he was reminded of the night when his young feet first measured that hilly road over eight years ago. How much had happened since then. Only twenty-four hours since he had been prepared to bless the Fate which drifted him there; now he was ready to curse it. As he neared the crest of the upland highway the slow rumble of wheels broke on his ear. Hi noted it, but went on moodily. Then he was staring at a stylish dogcart and fine bay just mounting the shoulder of the ridge at a foot-pace. Next instant the murmer of familiar voices was on the air, and pausing in mute, dumbfounded wonder, he saw Russell-Wentwjrth sitting in the vehicle, and by his side Molly Ashbourne, looking white-faced and half-frightened. Then a low sneering laugh broke the silence; there was the crack of a whip-lash, the rattle of hoofs and wheels, and the conveyance sped away in the gathering dusk, leaving a man of stone there. (To be continued.)