Four Gates by Amy Le Feuvre

"Scorn is more grievous than the pains of death; Reproach more piercing than the pointed sword. " Howe.

AN autumn morning, grey and dreary; storms of hail lash against the window panes; the wind howls round the houses and shrieks down the chimneys. And Audrey stands looking out of the window with dazed eyes, wondering if the events of the past two days are just a series of nightmares from which she will wake, or whether they are hard, sad facts.

Only two days ago, her father and she were in this very room, Mr. Hume apparently in his usual health. Now she was fatherless, and he lay upstairs a still, silent form.

He had wished her good-night, and retired to his room. The next morning, he did not respond to her call. And when she had gone in, she found him breathing heavily, but quite unconscious. The doctor came in at once. He told her it was some sort of stroke.

All that day and the following night she had watched by his bedside. And then in the early hours, his eyes slowly opened, and he recognised her. She had to bend her head to hear his dying words:

"Mr. Blunt knows-Vernon-tell you-about-about-your future."

That was all. A little sigh, and eternity received the spirit of Audrey's father.

A rush of tears came to her eyes now as she remembered afresh that his last thought had been of her. Only two days; yet two years would seem short to gather in their embrace all the agony, suspense, and the tumult of thoughts that had passed through the girl's heart and soul.

She seemed stupefied and benumbed, and when someone addressed her by name, she turned and stared for a moment into Mr. Blunt's rugged face with an expression of utter bewilderment.

"I am sorry to intrude, my dear young lady, but there are things that must be done. May I act for you?"

"Do anything-everything-but leave me alone. What does anything matter now? My world has stopped. " She looked at him in a dazed fashion as she spoke.

He cleared his throat, then produced an envelope from his pocket and held it out to her.

"It is early to talk over business matters, but I promised your father to give this to you directly-er-um-he was called away. I will leave it with you. And as your father asked me to act as executor to his will in union with this Dr. Vernon, there will be no difficulty in my relieving you of a great deal of sad work."

He bowed himself out of the room, and Audrey, with trembling hands, broke the seal of the letter addressed to herself in her father's handwriting.

It was as follows: -

"MY DEAR AUDREY,

"I have asked Mr. Blunt to give you this after my death. It may be many years before it will be necessary for him to do so, but I do not think it will be. Though we have been a long-lived race, I am less strong than those who have gone before me. I am not so utterly indifferent to your future as you consider me, and I have at last made what I feel to be a thoroughly satisfactory arrangement with my friend Everard Vernon concerning you.

"He will tell you what this arrangement is. But I wish you to deliver personally into his hands the enclosure which I have written, and abide by his counsel as to the steps you take about your future. And I should like you to go to him without delay; Mr. Blunt will give you his address. I feel relieved from all anxiety about you.

"Your affectionate-

"FATHER."