Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

27 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

The Odd Number.

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

The Odd Number. The short. November afternoon was darken- i, and the snow. falling steadily, melted as it fell, maktng the slpsh ill deeper. On one of the street cot-ners of a big city stood a girt playing a. violin; the wild, sweet notes piercal the air and died away, and the girl held her- rihilled hands out to receive the pennies offered her. Tbwi she walked on. only pausing to look through the brilliantly lighted shop windows at the ricli furs. For some moments she stood; then, drawing her old shaxl closer, hurried on. Over the bridge she passed, and up the dark street, entering one of the hou aes in a long row of tenements. The great bare room.: dimly lighted by a lamp; the rusty stove, and the fumes of oil otruck the girl jinpleasanl ly as she threw open the door. By the window sat a man busily mending an old violin, witfle near him was a bench strewn with tools. "Here, father," she said, mining over and throwing some pennies on "i>e bench; "I stayed out until I -was clullod through, and that i> all I coiud gut.' "You hussy! It's because you won't work that you can't get. You're a lazy and proud as your mother TO.?-jhp'a ratter freeze to death than ask i Penn, The girl stood by the stove, with one foot resting on the fender. It, was her apparent indifference that roused the anger of the man. He spread the copers in his palm and counted them. "A shilling, yon lazy good-for-nothing. How are we going to pay the rent with that?" The girl neither answered nor showed that the had heard. When she had partly dried he: feet she went to the cupboard, and, bringing some brown bread and cheese, set them on the table. She then wheeled her father-Oil chair to the board. and sat, down to the cheerless supper. She broke off bits of bread, and ato as though unconscious of what she was doing. lou'd be aiad enough to see your father turned out, wouldn't you? Kant coming due, and nothing to pay it with." He waited for a reply, but the girl had nothing to say., "Three days more. then nothing to do but freeze and stane to death," he continued. watching closely to see the effect. The face opposite remained unchanged. Say. Sal," here the surly tone changed into a coaxing whine. Bill Bradden was around to-day again, and he says he'd be willing and glad to marry you. Now. Brarlden's got money enough to take us both in, and a good home for your poor old-" The dark eyes Slowly ranted to his-great, glowing eyas, burning with rage and scorn. I'd starve before I would marry that Bill Bradden. I'd rather starve, anyway, than live out this—this—what Is called life." We'll see. my gsirl." was the reply, spoken 80 quickly as to sound ominous. "You'll marry Bill BradkJen, or you'll av-c home." » Home!" and the girl laughed a miserable littl-e laugh. n Nothing in th#, ttetertnined expression of the girl betrayed the agitaVson in her'mind as she quietly rose and cleared away ths dishes, piling the crusts and :iits of cheese in the bowl for their breakfast. Suddenly a figure passed the window. In an instant the girl had sprung to the door and bolted it, A load- rap sounded. She went on putting away the suprtØiJlp. The rigorous pound- ing continued. "Hal, let me in." She did not answer, but slowly lighted the candle, and. passing the window at which the man stood peering in. wenl upstairs. She lis- tened at the pipe-hoTe, ana heard her father open the door to admit the visitor. "That girl of your's is a rare one. The minute she sees me coming she runs and bolts the door in my face. It doesn t look very en- couraging. eh, Garrick?" "Just you have patience. Brailden. The girl's got to have some of the stubbornness knocked out of her, that's all. But say, old fellow, about the cash. It's agreed and written down in black and white that yon are to hand it over the night you marry her?" "That's a bargain. The girl's a prize, and I'm willing to pay well for her. Clip her wing=. Garrick, that it will he straight sailing." "Let me see-this is the twelfth. Three days more ad then-. Say. Bradden, what do you say to doing the thing up to-morrow night? She'll be just as willing then as she would be a year from now. Shall we go ahead?" Then they laoghed together and shook hands. Sal strained her ears, but could hear nothing more than the clink of glasses. "Oh, how cold, it, is." she half moaned. In- eide--inside I am freezing—my heart, is turning to stone, and my blood is like cold water; but my brain is not yet numb-I can think." She heard the door open and Bill Bradden go oat. Creeping noiselessly down the stairs, she laid the bundle down and put on her bonnet and shawl, then walked over and looked long at the unconscious face of her father as ,ie tay in a heavy stupor in his chair, with head fallen on his breast. "I have done the. best I coald by you, father. I ha.ve tried and failed. I won't stay and be made to ma.rry that man. No! not even to jave the. roof over your head!" The girl opened the window a trifle, picked up her bundle ajid violin, and, blowing out tho light, left the house. Paul Oldfield sat reading before the fire in his little back parlour. The blaze lighted and shadowed the walls lined with books-old, musty books which had lain for years, wait- ing to be claimed; the little room was oddly furnished in quaint pieces, also waiting to be olaimsd, for Paul Otdfteld was a pawnbroker, as his father ha& bee# before him. The door opened, jiagling the bell on its wire. The pawnbroker drew aside the curtain and entered the shop. Before the counter stood Sal Garrick. You can sell my things." she said. I ean't redeem them, and you needn't save them any longer." As she spoke she looked at a bracelet and a bunch of brown curls in the case. I can keep them a while longer. Mise Gar- rick. Jj-t to-day a woman wanted the curls 4 but I told her the time was not up. If-if you could pay the interest-" He watched the girl's face as she gazsd steadily at her treasures. She slowly raised her eyes; they were glistening with tears. It.s 110 11"3, Mr. Oldfidd. I can't do it. Mother will know I tried to keep them, but couldn't." Anything I can do for you, Miss Garrick?" IVell-yes, I don't suppose you ever loan money on people, do yon?" The broker was surprised and puzzled. "It is this," she went on. "I must have money to keep father from being turned into the street. I can't make enough by playing to pay up the back rent. and I thought I could pawn myself!" Why, yes, I could loan money on you, though I havs never done it before. How much do you need?" Two pounds. Oà, Mr. Oldfield, I will play on the streets night and day to pay the inte- rest and redeem myself." Take your time about paying it, Miss Garrick; I am not in any hurry," he said, making out the ticket and handing it to her. It was midnight when he locked the shop and put out the lights, after first taking a bracelet and a bunch of curls from the ease, and laying them carefully in a. box. Sal Garrick grasped the money in one hand and her violin nnd bundle in the other, as she almost ran along the streets. Going home, she slipped the packet through the partly- opened window, and heard it fall on the floor; then went on. She had walked a long distance when ée entered a lodging-home and paid the price of a bed. The ad joining room was well filled with cots, and Sal Garrick looked cautiously about at the sleepers before taking a paper from her pocket. It was a pawnticket. By the light of the candle she read: "International Lfran Office, "No. 205. November 12, 1893. "Received the following goods, the person of Sal Garrick, who will be subject to condi- tions hersin contained as security for £2 (2), "To be paid in one month from this date with 10 per cen i. per month addition for interest, and in default of payment th?reof, the under- signed is authorised to sell the same at any public auction.—Paul Oldfield, 6. Penn-street." "No. 205," she murmured. "Always the odd number. ATI my life I have been the odd one. The world didn't want me, and has no place number. An my life I have been the odd one. The world didn't want me, and has no place fnr mp I It was Christmas night. Paal Oldneld sat by his fire, idly watching the bright coals and thinking, thinking. always thinking. He was thinking of the wistful, earnest face of Sal Garrick; of the poverty and un- happiness crowded into that young life. He was thinking of his own life; solitary, lonely, almost melancholy in' t' monotony of its days. Just than the bell tinkled. He went into the shop and found Sal Garrick gazin-, intently into the case. "You have sold them, then?" Her voice trembled in spite of her effort to hide her disappointment. "Mi?3 Girrrick, I couldn't "Mr. Oldfield*" she interrupted, "the loan is due—overdue. I have sent the litEe I could pick up to father. and there is none left for interest. Take ihil.-take it!" she demanded, shoving the violin on ;the counter. "I won't need it any more." The broker started as he saw the expression in her eyg-wild. desperate, determined. He took the girl's hand and drew"; towards him. "The loan is up." he said slowly. "In default of payment thereof, the broker is authorised to take into his possession that which is deposited, to protect and love as he has never loved in all his empty, lonely life; Sal, will you marry me?" She thrust the pawn ticket in his hand. "It's the odd number that's not redeemed— take it." she said, wearily. and Paul Oldfield kissed her beautiful upturned face and held her in his arms, saying: "Mine—my own—by consent and right of law." [THE END.]

WISEANDOTHERWISE

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