Edward Barry | Page 7

as much
if he wants it badly." Then he gave Mr. Maynard the address.
Their supper being finished, and it being nearly nine o'clock, Barry
paid the bill out of his remaining seven shillings, and left his parcel
under the care of the waiter.
The draper's shop was just closing as they reached it; presently one by
one the employees came out and stood under the awning, gazing with
apprehension at the rain and soaking streets.
"Here is Miss Maynard, sir," said a young woman pleasantly to the old
gentleman, as a tall, slenderly built girl, closely wrapped up in a serge
overcoat, stepped out of the shop and looked eagerly up and down the
street. In another moment she was at her father's side, her sweet, pale
face smiling into his. Barry was standing a little distance away.
"Come, Rose, come. I've such a pleasant surprise for you, my child," he

heard her father say, as with the girl on his arm he pushed through the
little crowd to where his companion was waiting. "Here she is, Mr.
Barry."
"Oh, I am so glad, so glad to see you again," was all she could say in
soft, trembling tones as his hand closed around hers, and simple as
were the words, they thrilled the man's heart.
"Glad indeed," echoed her father, "glad indeed, my child," and then his
next words sent a chill of misery through her; "but sad to say, we meet
but to part, and to part almost immediately, for he must leave us before
ten o'clock to go on board his ship, which sails on Monday. So let us
make haste home, Rose, so that we may at least bid him farewell in a
better place than the open street."
Their lodgings were but a few doors away, and in a few minutes all
three were seated in the dingy little combined dining and sitting-room,
which, with two bedrooms, formed their "furnished apartments." There
was, however, a bright wood fire burning in the grate, and this gave the
place an aspect of cheerfulness. The table was laid for supper, and Mr.
Maynard, whose thin little face was flushed with excitement, after
divesting his daughter of her cloak, placed a kettle on the fire. Then he
turned to her with an expression of dismay.
"Dear, dear me, Rose. I have quite forgotten to buy the coffee. And
to-morrow will be Sunday. How very thoughtless of me!"
Seizing his hat and umbrella, he bustled off.
"Poor father is quite excited, Mr. Barry," said Rose with a faint smile,
"but he won't be more than ten minutes. He is housekeeper now. . . . I
suppose you know all that has happened to us since----"
"Yes, yes," said Barry hurriedly, as he rose, and coming over to her
took both her hands in his, and looked into her pale face. "Oh that I had
only known of his misfortunes six months ago, when I could have
helped you. Rose, dear Rose----"

"Don't, don't," she said brokenly; "why do you come to us now, when
for a year you have never written? I said to you just now that I was glad
to see you. It is not so. Your coming has made me very, very
unhappy--for I was trying to forget."
"For God's sake, Rose, hear me. I cannot now tell you all that has
happened to me, for your father will be here presently, and my personal
honour is pledged to my captain to be on board to-night, and so I must
hurry away at once and it will be impossible for me to come ashore
to-morrow. But you shall have a letter from me in the morning, that
will tell you all, and clear me in your eyes, dear."
The man's eyes glowed with the passionate sincerity of his words, and
she uttered a sob of joy.
"Oh, Ted, Ted, if you only knew how I have suffered! I could not
understand it . . . it was killing me. If it were not for poor father I
should have been glad to die. And now you are going away again. Oh,
what does it all mean? I feel dull and stupid, and cannot think----" then
a burst of tears.
"Hush, little woman. To-morrow my letter will help you to forget the
unhappiness I have unintentionally caused you. There, look up, dear
Rose, and listen. I hear your father coming. I cannot again part from
you without telling him of my love for you."
"Ted! I shall be the happiest woman in the world then; for then I can
talk of you to him when you are at sea. How many long, long months
this time, Ted?" and she smiled through her tears.
"Not many, I hope, dear--not more