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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>A WOMAN MARTYR</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="A Woman Martyr" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Alice Mangold Diehl" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1903" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Adolf Thiede" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="41711" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-12-26" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="A Woman Martyr" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="A Woman Martyr" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="martyr.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-12-27T01:15:07.184731+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41711" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Alice Mangold Diehl" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Adolf Thiede" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2012-12-26" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="a-woman-martyr"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">A WOMAN MARTYR</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: A Woman Martyr -<br /> -<br />Author: Alice Mangold Diehl -<br /> -<br />Release Date: December 26, 2012 [EBook #41711] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A WOMAN MARTYR</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container coverpage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-28"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Cover" src="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Cover</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-29"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""She turned a white set face upon her self-elected escort." A Woman Martyr. Page 10." src="images/img-front.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"She turned a white set face upon her self-elected escort." </span><em class="italics">A Woman Martyr</em><span class="italics">. </span><em class="italics">Page 10</em><span class="italics">.</span></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">A WOMAN MARTYR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY -<br />ALICE MANGOLD DIEHL</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">AUTHOR OF "PASSION PUPPETS" -<br />"THE KNAVE OF HEARTS" "FIRE" ETC. ETC</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADOLF THIEDE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON -<br />WARD, LOCK AND CO. LIMITED -<br />NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE -<br />1903</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container plainpage"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">Contents</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-i">CHAPTER I</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-ii">CHAPTER II</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-iii">CHAPTER III</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-iv">CHAPTER IV</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-v">CHAPTER V</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-vi">CHAPTER VI</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-vii">CHAPTER VII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-viii">CHAPTER VIII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-ix">CHAPTER IX</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-x">CHAPTER X</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xi">CHAPTER XI</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xii">CHAPTER XII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xiii">CHAPTER XIII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xiv">CHAPTER XIV</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xv">CHAPTER XV</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xvi">CHAPTER XVI</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xvii">CHAPTER XVII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xviii">CHAPTER XVIII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xix">CHAPTER XIX</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xx">CHAPTER XX</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxi">CHAPTER XXI</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxii">CHAPTER XXII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxiii">CHAPTER XXIII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxiv">CHAPTER XXIV</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxv">CHAPTER XXV</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxvi">CHAPTER XXVI</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxvii">CHAPTER XXVII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxviii">CHAPTER XXVIII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxix">CHAPTER XXIX</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxx">CHAPTER XXX</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxxi">CHAPTER XXXI</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxxii">CHAPTER XXXII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxxiii">CHAPTER XXXIII</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxxiv">CHAPTER XXXIV</a><span class="medium"> -<br /></span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#chapter-xxxv">CHAPTER XXXV</a></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-i"><span class="large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A sharp shower pattering on the foliage -of the sycamores and elms was scattering -the equestrians in the Row. Fair girls -urged their hacks into a canter and trotted -swiftly homewards. Other riders, glancing -upwards, and deciding that the clouds had done -their worst, drew up under the trees. Among -these was a slight, graceful girl in a -well-fitting habit with a pale, classic face, and the -somewhat Venetian combination of dark brown -eyes and red-gold hair. With a slight wave of -her whip to her groom--who halted -obediently under a neighbouring tree--she reined in -her slender-limbed bay mare under a horse-chestnut -tree whose shelter was still undemanded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There she sat still in her saddle, with a -slight frown--biting her lip--as she asked -herself again and again, "Did he see me? -Has he ridden out of the park?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she cantered along just as the shower -began, she fancied she recognised an admirer -she had believed to be far away, walking his -horse in the same direction as herself. This -was Lord Vansittart--a man who had -several times repeated his offer of marriage--an -offer she did not refuse because he had not -stirred her heart--for she loved him, and -passionately--but for other reasons. -Although it had caused her bitter pain, she had -at least been determined enough in her "No" -to send him off, in dudgeon, to seek -forgetfulness in other climes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now he had appeared again!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her first feeling had been dismay, mingled -with involuntary ecstacy which startled her. -Then came a wild, almost uncontrollable -impulse just to speak to him--to touch his -hand, to look into those love laden eyes once -more--only once more!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed furtively here and there, divided -between the hope and fear that her longing -would be sated--she would meet him. -Riders passed and repassed. The little crowds -gathered, thickened, dispersed. She was -disappointedly telling herself that as the shower -had temporarily subsided she ought to be -returning home, when her heart gave a leap. -A rider who was trotting towards her was the -man--the man strongly if slightly built, -handsome, fair, if stern--who alone among -men had conquered that heart, who, although -despair had driven her to hold her own -against him, was her master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was all over--fate had decided--they -two must once more meet! There was no -escape.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He rode up. She blanched, but looked -him steadily in the face. He gazed sadly, -beseechingly, yet with that imperious -compelling glance which had so often made her -quail--into those beautiful brown eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We meet again, you see," he said, in a -harsh, strained voice. He felt on the -rack--to him, wildly panting, yearning to take her -in his arms after weary, maddening months -of longing, that gulf between them seemed -a very hell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it seems," she said, with a pitiful -attempt at a laugh. "I thought you were -in Kamschatka, or Bombay--or anywhere!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have come back," he returned, lamely, -mechanically accompanying her as she rode -out of shelter--she would not, could not, -stay there and bandy words with him! "I -felt--I must know--the worst!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Involuntarily she reined in, and so -suddenly that she startled her steed, and it was -some moments before the mare's nerves were -calmed. Then she turned a white, set face -upon her self-elected escort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean, Lord Vansittart?" -she asked scornfully, and her eyes flashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You--know," he hoarsely said. "I am -not so utterly vain as to think that where I -have failed, other and--and--more attractive -fellows may not succeed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know, or ought to know, that what -you are saying is absurd!" she faltered. -What had she thought, feared? She hardly -knew, she only felt a tremendous relief. -Thank Heaven, even had she been secretly -vowed to the cloister, her conduct since their -parting could not have borne closer scrutiny! -"You must remember--what I said--I never, -never, intend to marry--anyone. I shall -never, never, change my mind--about </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He said nothing; but glanced at her--a -curious glance. A puzzle to him since -he first had felt encouraged to believe from -symptoms which only a watchful, anxious -lover would perceive, that she involuntarily, -perhaps even unconsciously, loved him--she -had remained an insoluble problem during -the long days of their separation when he -pondered on the subject the slow, lagging -hours through--and, now again, she bid fair -to be as great a problem as ever. For he felt, he -knew, that her reception of him--her pallor, -the strange look in her eyes and the curious -pitch of her voice--why, the veriest fool alive -would not have mistaken her demeanour or -one of its details for indifference!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I--I think you mistake yourself," he -began slowly, revolving certain ideas which -he had jotted down at intervals for his future -guidance, in his mind. "I suppose you do -not believe in marriage. You have seen its -failure! Is that it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps," she said. "I really can't tell, -myself. All I know is, that I am firmly -resolved not to marry--any one!" She -spoke doggedly, with almost a childish -obstinacy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--you do not bar friendship?" he -said, earnestly, appealingly. "Supposing -some one of the unfortunate men you -determine to have nothing to do with were to wish -to devote his whole life and energies to you, -secretly, but entirely--with the absolute -devotion of a would-be anchorite or martyr--what -then? You would not refuse to give -the poor devil a chance? I mean, to give -him something in return; if friendship were -too much to expect, tolerance, pity, a look -now and then, or a word, you would allow him -to play your faithful knight, of course in -strict secrecy, from afar, unsuspected by -the world?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A faint colour suffused her lovely face. -She looked at him, furtively. "Some people -may care for that sort of thing--I don't!" -she bluntly said. "Oh, Lord Vansittart! why -will you not, can you not, see and -understand that all I want of--of--everyone is to -be let alone? I have my own ideas of what -my life should be; surely any one professing -interest in me ought to respect them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I respect your every thought," he eagerly, -if somewhat perplexedly returned. "Only--I -should like thoroughly to understand the -kind of life you wish to lead. Because--well, -I will not beat about the bush. Joan! you -know I love you! You are my very life! -And if I cannot be nearer than I am now, -my only happiness and motive for living -must be to serve you in some way, to see you, -speak to you, help you, be your very slave----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as his voice was most impassioned -his appeal was interrupted. An elderly gentleman -rode swiftly up and tapped him on the arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Vansittart! can I believe my -eyes?" he exclaimed, somewhat breathlessly. -"Joan, where has he dropped from?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Sir Thomas Thorne, the wealthy -uncle who had adopted Joan, his late brother's -only child, at her mother's death a few years -previously. The admired beauty, whose -only flaw seemed to be her adamantine pose in -regard to her many suitors, was known to be -sole heiress of the wealthy baronet and his -wife, who were not only childless, but curiously -devoid of near relations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From Paris, Sir Thomas," he replied, as -easily as he could. Then he gave a brief -account of his wanderings. He seemed to have -roamed and ranged over the earth, prowling -about for some interest, which evaded him -from Dan to Beersheba. Sir Thomas listened -with a peculiar twist of his thin, fine lips and a -curious twinkle in his shrewd, handsome old eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in to lunch," he genially, if abruptly, -proposed, as they left the park. "My lady -will be delighted to see you--you are one of -her particular favourites."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What could Vansittart do but accept? -With many deprecatory glances at Joan--which, -as she rode on looking straight before -her, she either did not, or would not see,--he -accompanied uncle and niece through the -pale sunshine which now bathed the wet -streets and shone upon the dripping bushes -and bright green foliage of the trees, to the -door of Sir Thomas' tastefully beflowered -mansion in one of the largest West-end squares.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here, before the groom had had time to -wait upon his mistress, he was off his horse, -and at her stirrup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forgive me," he pleaded, as she eluded -his help and sprang lightly down. "I could -not resist the temptation!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Had she heard him? She had marched on -into the house. "She will not appear at -luncheon," he told himself bitterly, as he -accompanied the very evidently friendly Sir -Thomas up the steps and through the hall. -"She will make some plausible excuse to -avoid me, as she has always done, worse luck!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ii"><span class="large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But for once Lord Vansittart's good star -seemed in the ascendant. Joan was -seated at the end of the long table in the big, -finely furnished diningroom, where luncheon -was already being handed round by the men -in Sir Thomas' fawn-and-silver livery to some -ladies and a man or two who had dropped in -and been invited to stay by Lady Thorne. -As the kindly, middle-aged, motherly-looking -lady welcomed him with what he felt to be -pleasurable astonishment, he felt less sickened -by the mingled scent of savoury entrées and -the pines, forced strawberries and rich rose -blooms that decorated the luncheon-table in -profusion. Perhaps--she seemed to smile -upon him, almost to sympathize, indeed, as -Sir Thomas had made no secret of doing some -months previously--his hostess might stand -his friend in his hitherto dismally -unsuccessful wooing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While he accepted a vacant place on her -right hand, and chatted about his travels, his -ear was pitched to hear what Joan was talking -so brightly about to Lady Mound and her -daughters at the other end of the table. He -lost the thread of Lady Thorne's remarks, -until she startled him agreeably by asking -him whether they would meet him that -afternoon at the concert at Dulwich House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you--is Miss Thorne--going?" he -stammered. "I--of course I only arrived -last night, but Lady Dulwich is such an old -friend, I know I should be quite the </span><em class="italics">bien-venu</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Joan, you are coming with me to Lady -Dulwich's this afternoon, of course?" asked -her aunt, when there was a lull in the -conversation. "No? Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am riding to Crouch Hill to see poor -Nana," she said, and the determined tones of -her resonant young voice seemed to strike -upon Vansittart's hot, perturbedly beating -heart. "I know it is not a month yet since I -went last--my uncle is an autocrat, as I -daresay you know, Lady Mound! He only allows -me to see my poor old nurse once a month! -But I had a letter from her, she is worse than -usual. I meant to have told you, auntie, -but you were busy, and I thought it did not -matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It matters very much, unless you drive, -for I cannot accompany you this afternoon," -said her uncle, raising his voice so that his -wife could hear. "Joan can drive with her -maid, my dear." He was well aware that -Joan detested driving accompanied by her -maid. "You can postpone it till to-morrow? -I could not go with you then, Joan, I have to -attend a meeting. Perhaps Vansittart will -spare time to escort you? You are not deep -in engagements yet I expect, my boy, are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should be only too pleased, if Miss -Thorne will accept my services, as she has -done on occasion in the hunting-field," he -said, with an effort not to betray his violent -delight at such an opportunity to plead his cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"London is not the country, Lord Vansittart, -thanks," said Joan, calmly; although she had -suddenly paled to lividity with dread, with -the indescribable fear she felt of self betrayal -to this man who loved her. "I shall be -perfectly safe, alone. One only meets a few -wagons and carts along the highroads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a slightly displeased -expostulation from her uncle, a deprecatory word or -two in favour of Vansittart as her squire on -the part of Lady Thorne; and Joan, desperate, -capitulated, feeling unequal to being focussed -by all the pairs of eyes around the table. -She went upstairs to change her habit and -hat for one more suited to the muddy -suburban roads, and presently found herself -trotting northwards on her spirited grey -mare Nora, Vansittart at her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had chosen Nora, she coldly remarked--she -meant to be an icicle to Vansittart, it was -her only chance--because she "wanted a good -gallop," and Nora had not been out that day. -And as soon as the young mare had frisked -and capered through the suburbs in a manner -which made Vansittart somewhat anxious, -and effectually prevented conversation, she -and her mistress bounded off in a canter, and -literally tore along the soft roads, startling -the few pedestrians and drivers of tradesmen's -carts, Lord Vansittart's horse galloping after, -and the groom scampering in the rear to keep -in sight of the pair. Joan only slackened -speed for more than a few moments when she -saw the row of cottages where old Mrs. Todd -lived, at the foot of the wide sloping road that -wound downhill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is the cottage," she said, pointing -with her whip. "The poor old soul who -lives in it loves me best in the world, and I -think I return it with interest! She was my -nurse when I was a child, helped my mother -nurse my father through his long illness, then -nursed her to her death, and only left me -because she felt too helpless to be of any use!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now you make her life happy by -seeing her now and then," he said, gazing -passionately at the pure, white, girlish profile -under the felt hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She can hardly be happy--doubled up -with rheumatism, lonely, poor--it is ridiculous -to suggest such a thing!" she said, -disgustedly--then, touching Nora's flank lightly -with her heel, she rode off; he followed, -springing down to assist her to alight. But she -frowned at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had better hold her, please," she -suggested. "Where is that groom of mine? -Oh, there he is! I shall be quite half an hour. -You might inspect the neighbourhood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks for the suggestion, perhaps I -shall!" he good humouredly returned, with -a scrutinizing glance at a stern old face framed -by the cottage window panes, which -disappeared as he looked; and as Joan slipped -nonchalantly off her panting steed and went -within, congratulating herself upon having -furnished herself with a good chance of losing -or evading him and returning alone, he -decided to remain well out of sight of the cottage, -but only where he could keep his eye on the -groom and the horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Nana, here I am, you see," said -Joan, entering and embracing the worn old -crone who stood leaning on her stick in the -middle of the kitchen and parlour combined. -It was a dark, low room, filled with some -old-fashioned furniture--remnants of Joan's -vicarage home. A big old arm-chair stood -by the fireplace, where there was a bright -little fire, although in a few weeks it would -be midsummer. "Sit down at once!" She -led her gently back to her chair. "Poor old -dear! You have been bad this time, -haven't you? You mustn't spare the doctor--send -his bill to me! You got that chicken -panada and jelly? That's right! I've -brought some money for little things----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind money, dearie! but tell me -who's the gentleman?" said the old woman, -whose large, shining eyes shone living in her -emaciated, deathly face--shading her eyes -with her skinny, clawlike hand, and gazing -anxiously at Joan, who had drawn a low -folding chair near and was seated opposite the -fire. "I like his face, that I do! I saw him -as you got down from your horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is Lord Vansittart," said Joan, frowning slightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old woman bent forward, and scrutinized -her nursling's expressive features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You like him?" she suddenly asked. -"Oh, if you do, may the Lord be praised!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan gave a bitter, hopeless laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What good would it do me if I did?" -she mournfully said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What good?" The aged crone leant -forward and clasped Joan's gauntleted wrists -with her dark, clawlike hands. "Oh, my -blessed darlint! If you could only be -married--to a real gentleman like him--and -would forget all about that business, and that -wretched chap, I should die happy, that I -should! You have forgot him, haven't you, dearie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Todd gazed anxiously at Joan's -gloomy, miserable, yet most beautiful eyes. -There was a far away look--a look of mingled -dread and aversion, as if beyond all, she could -see some loathsome, terrible object.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Forget the curse of my life?" she -bitterly exclaimed. "For, while I do not know -where he is, if he is alive or dead, my life is -accursed.... How dare I--love--care -for--any good man, saddle any one's life with my -miserable folly, confess to any honest person -my--my--association with </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>? Why, I -blush and groan and grovel and tear my hair -when I think of it, and if my uncle -knew-- Heavens! he might curse me and turn me out -of doors and leave me to starve! He does not -love me as if I were his own child, I know -that--how can he when he was at daggers drawn -with my father all those years? And auntie, -kind though she is, she is only his wife--she is -good to me because he wishes her to be! They -are only pleased with me because I please in -society--people like me, like my looks--if -they knew--if they knew--oh! my God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clasped her hands over her face, and -writhed. The old woman's features worked, -but her brilliant, unearthly eyes were riveted -firmly on her darling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were once a great fool, dearie! But -don't 'ee be a fool now, never no more," she -said, sonorously, solemnly. "There was -summat you once used to say, poetry, when -you was home from school--it did go right -down into my heart like a bullet dropped into -a well--summat like 'a dead past oughter -bury its dead.' Can your uncle, or your aunt, -or this lord who loves you, or you, or me, or -the finest parson or king or pope or anything -or body in this world, bring back one single -blessed minnit, let alone hours or days? -That's where common sense comes in, as -your dear dead par used to say to me often -and often! No, you can't bring it back, nor -he can't! It's dead! He's dead--that -brute--and if he ain't dead to you, he can't -worry or annoy you, bein' in prison if he's -alive, as a fellow of his sort is safe as sure -to be----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush! For Heaven's sake, Nana, don't -talk like that!" Joan trembled, and glanced -a despairing, furtive glance out of the -window--above the pots of arums, and prickly -cactus, and geranium cuttings, where the long, -attenuated tendrils of the "mother of -thousands" in the wire basket dangled in the -draught. Much and often as she thought of -her past, that secret past which only this -faithful old soul really knew the facts of, she -felt as if she could not bear it put into words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who's to hear? The girl's out!" -exclaimed the old woman, who was roused, -excited. Her nursling's troubles, the obstacles -to her becoming a great lady, were to her -the worst trials of her suffering, lonely life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I tell you this, dearie, if you won't have -anything to do with that splendid lord who -loves you, and you say you like, I shall think -you hanker after </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>--that viper who ain't -fit to live, let alone to black that noble -gentleman's boots! What--you don't? Then -what should stand between you and him -as loves you? That--that nonsense of that -fellow's? What do it matter if he's dead, or -in prison? It's four years ago, ain't it? If -you are so partickler, you could wait another -three, and then he wouldn't have any sort of -claim upon ye, if he has any now, which I -doubt! He was humbuggin' of you, dearie! -I'm not to talk about it? I must! I can't die -happy till I know ye're safe with a good man -as'll take care of ye, my pretty, and that's a -fact. And I am sick and tired of all these -aches and pains, it's such a weary world! -Now, my dearie, when he asks ye to be his'n, -and he'll do it, too--ah! I can see he's done it -a'ready--just you listen to him. Be engaged -as they call it, secret-like, for a time. Then -don't go and tell him about all that which is -dead and done with--never tell living soul a -word about </span><em class="italics">that</em><span>! But let him think it's one -of the whimsies beauties like you are supposed -to have. Make him wait! And then--find out -what's become of </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>! I'll help ye! I'll help ye!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You--you have heard--from--of him!" -gasped Joan, wildly. "Nana! When! How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gawd is my witness, I've never set eyes -on him, the vagabond, since ye showed him -to me that day when he came with us in the -fields, five year ago, when you was at school, -and your poor mar was nearin' her end," she -said, solemnly. "Letters? Not likely! You've -had a letter from 'im? No, I knew you -couldn't 'ave had. Them convicts--hush? -All right, then! If you'll listen to me, I'll -hush and welcome."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Joan rose to go a few minutes later, -her thoughts were in a frantic whirl, but there -was a gleam of hope shining upon those dismal -memories which stood between her and happiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still she glanced round as she issued from -the cottage, hoping that her escort would -not be in sight, and they would happen to -miss each other. She wanted time to think, -to ponder over new possibilities suggested by -her old nurse's words, possibilities which -seemed to her, numbed by her long battle royal -to overcome her passion for Vansittart, too -magnificent ever to become probable. And -she mounted, and after a pretence of waiting -about for him as they walked their horses -slowly uphill, she said to her groom, "We had -better go on, Simms," and quickening her -pace, was presently trotting homewards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Vansittart was calmly awaiting them -at the cross roads, and reined round and -accompanied her as a matter of course. She gave -him a desperate glance as their eyes met, and -it caused him to change his tactics. He had -meditated an onslaught upon her emotions -during their homeward ride. "It will keep," -he sagely told himself, and after an -uneventful canter and a little ordinary small talk -he left her at her door without even an -allusion to a next meeting.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iii"><span class="large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She went to her room somewhat -heavy-hearted. She was no woman of the -world, and was taken aback by his unexpected -change of manner. Her maid Julie was busy -with a charming </span><em class="italics">toilette de bal</em><span> just arrived from -Paris: a gauzy robe over satin, richly sewn -with flowers and foliage made of tiny seed -pearls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This will suit mademoiselle </span><em class="italics">a merveille</em><span>," -exclaimed the little Frenchwoman. "And -with that pearl </span><em class="italics">garniture</em><span>----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall not go out to-night," she said, -with a disgusted glance at the finery which -seemed such hollow mockery. And as soon -as she had changed her habit for a tea-gown, -she locked herself in her boudoir, and stormily -pacing the room, asked herself what this -sudden chill in her lover meant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have gone too far--I have been too cold--I -have lost him!" she told herself, wildly. -"I cannot bear it! While there was the -faintest of faint hope left--that I might be -with him some day--I could bear--everything! -But to see him look at me as if I were anybody, -speak as if he did not care what became of -me--no, no, I should soon go mad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flinging herself prone on her sofa, she -clasped her throbbing head in both hands, and -asked herself passionately what could be done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot, must not, lower myself by -writing to him--and then, if he was the same -again, I could not take advantage of it! -Was ever poor wretched girl in such a -miserable position as I am?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All seemed hopeless, gloomy, dark, until a -sudden thought came like a brilliant flash -of light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He may be there, he will be there, -to-night! Of course, he is a friend of the -Duchess," she told herself. "That is what it -meant! He knew we should meet there! -He was teasing me--trying me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The suggestions comforted her as she rang, -told Julie she had changed her mind, and would -go to the ball; and she subsequently dined -with her uncle and aunt, who seemed in -exceedingly good spirits. (Sir Thomas' pet -project was that Lord Vansittart should marry -Joan, and he augured well from his appearance -at this juncture, and went through the -ceremony of dressing with a certain amount of -patience.) When she stood before her long glass, -with all the electric lights switched on, and saw -herself in her gleaming white and shining pearls, -tall, queenly, fair, with the glistening wreaths -of golden hair crowning her small head, -and her lustrous brown eyes alive with that -peculiar, unfathomable expression which had -gained her the epithet "sphinx-like" more -than once when she was discussed as the -Beauty who meant to flout every Beast that -approached her, and did--she felt comforted. -Only when she was shut into the carriage, her -aunt prattling platitudes, and the flickering -street lamps flashing stray gleams into the -dimly-lit vehicle as they drove along, was -she seized with a sudden panic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel as if--if he does not come--I shall -break down, utterly--I shall not be able to -bear my life any more!" she told herself, -despondently. "I shall end it all--no one -will care! There is only old Nana, who is -barely alive, and she would follow me at once!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Duke of Arran was a man of ideas--and -he lived to carry them out. The balls and -entertainments at Arran House were always -unique. That evening was no exception. As -Joan alighted, and passing through the hall -accompanied Lady Thorne through the -vestibule and up the wide staircase, even she felt -transient admiration. White and gold -everywhere was the rule to-night at Arran House, -where the famous marble staircase had been -brought from an old Venetian palazzo. This -evening's decorations were carried out in -gold-yellow; after the gardens and houses -had been denuded of gold and white flowers -to the disgust of the ducal gardeners, the -London florists had been commissioned to -supply the banks and wreaths and festoons of -gold and white blossoms which everywhere -met the eye, perfumed the atmosphere, and -made a fitting background for the large staff -of tall, handsome powdered men-servants -in black velvet and satin liveries, which was -augmented to-night into a very regiment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One sickening glance round the magnificent -ballroom, full of delicately-beautiful toilettes, -bright with flowers, lights, and laughter, gay -with the music of a well-known band--told -her Vansittart was not there. However, she -maintained her composure--he might yet -come--and with her usual chilly indifference -allowed her few privileged friends to inscribe -their initials on her tiny tablet. New partners -she declined, with the plea of fatigue. But -it was weary work! She was just telling -herself, fiercely, that she could bear no more; she -was seeking Lady Thorne to implore a retreat, -when she came upon Vansittart talking -pleasantly to her aunt in a cool corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was waiting for you," he said, looking -into her eyes and reading in them that which -fired his blood. "You will give me this -dance?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, and she accompanied him, -meek, silent, subdued, and allowing him to -encircle her slight waist with a firm, -proprietory clasp, glided round and round to the -dreamy melody of the "Bienaimée" valse. -Once before, when she had first longed for his -love, and felt the throes of this overwhelming -life-passion, they had danced together to that -swaying, suggestive melody. He remembered -it--remembered how to feel her slight form -almost in his embrace had urged him into a -reckless avowal of a love which was promptly -rejected. He set his teeth. He was at a -white heat again--and she--? By some subtle -sense he believed his moment had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must speak to you," he hoarsely said, as -they halted, Joan white and breathless with -emotion. "May I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up into his eyes, and at the -intensity of the appealing, passionate abandonment -to his will in that gaze, he thrilled with -triumph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will go into the Duchess's boudoir, I -know we may," he said, feeling a little giddy -as he escorted her along a corridor and through -the drawing-rooms. The boudoir was -empty--one or two couples only were seated in the -adjacent anteroom, he saw at a glance they -were well occupied with their own flirtations. -He closed the door, drew the embroidered -satin portiére across--they were alone in the -dimly-lighted room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned to her as she stood gazing at -him, pale, fascinated. He took her hands. -"Joan!" he said--then, as he felt her -passion, he simply drew her into his arms, and -stooping, kissed her lips--a long, passionate -kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To feel his lips on hers was ecstacy to -her--for a few moments she forgot all--it was like -heaven before its time. Then she feebly -pushed him away, and gave a low moan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! what have I done?" she wailed, and -she glanced about like a hunted creature. -"How could you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You love me! What is to keep us -asunder?" he hoarsely cried. As she sank -shuddering, gasping, into a chair, he fell at -her knees, and embraced them. "I am the -happiest man on earth! For your uncle will -approve, and you--you, Joan! All that was -wanted was your love to make you my dear--wife!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wife!" She sank back and groaned. -"I shall never be any man's wife!" she said. -"Why? Because I do not want to be! -That is all! Because I never shall and will be!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was she crazy? He rose, slowly, and -contemplated her. No! There were anguish -and suffering in the lines about her mouth and -eyes--in those lustrous, strained brown -orbs--but no insanity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must talk it all over. I must--I -mean, I may see you to-morrow, may I not?" -he gently said, drawing a chair near, and -seating himself between her and the door, he -besought at least one interview, so that they -should "understand each other." He had -but just obtained a reluctant consent to a -</span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> on the morrow, when the door -suddenly opened, a gay young voice cried, -"surely there can't be any one in here!" and -a bright face peeped round the curtain and at -once disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lady Violet!" exclaimed Joan, starting -up. "She has seen us!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if she has?" asked her lover, mystified -by her terror at having been discovered -alone with him by the Duke's eldest daughter. -Still, with the promise of an elucidatory -interview, he obeyed her wishes, and left her to -return to the ballroom without his escort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She did not linger: she almost fled, scared, -from the boudoir through the drawing-rooms, -into the corridor. Which way led to the -ballroom? Hesitating, glancing right and left, -she saw one of the picturesque black-clad -servitors coming towards her. She would ask him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he advanced, the man's face riveted her -attention. Not because of its wax mask-like -regularity, and the intent, glittering -stare of the black eyes which fixed -themselves boldly upon her own; but because -the countenance was singularly like one -which haunted her memory--waking and -sleeping--the hideous ghost of her foolish -past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens--how terribly like him!" she -murmured to herself, unconsciously, involuntarily -shrinking back against the wall as he -came near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like! As the man came up, and halted, -she gave a strangled cry like the pitiful dying -wail of a poor hare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see, you recognize me," he said, in a -low voice, with a bitter little smile. "Don't -be alarmed! I am not going to claim you -publicly, here, to-night. But if you do not -want me to call and send in my credentials at -your uncle's house, you will meet me -to-morrow at the old place, in the evening. I -shall be there at eight, and will wait till you -come. Do you understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she whispered. As he passed on -and opening a baize door, disappeared, she -stood gazing after him as if his words had been -a sword-thrust, and she was a dead woman.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-iv"><span class="large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joan stood in the corridor, white, hardly -breathing, as if turned to stone, her -beautiful eyes riveted on the spot where the man -who was once her lover had disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Victor!" she thought, as her whole being -seemed to writhe in an agony of despair. -"Victor--and in the duke's livery--am I mad?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave a wild laugh, and the sudden -sound startled her into sanity. Numbness -had followed the shock of seeing the man -living, in the flesh, whom she had hoped against -hope was dead. Now she seemed to come to -life again. She clenched her nails into her -gloved hands so vehemently that the fine kid -was rent. She suppressed her almost -ungovernable desire to groan out her misery, -and as she set her teeth and closed her eyes -to realize the situation and deal with it, she -seemed to see her soul naked within her, and -it was ablaze with one dominating passion -alone--love for Vansittart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am all his," she slowly told herself. -"How I have become so--I never wished it--Nature, -fate, the Creator who made us, alone, -know. But I am his, he is my lord and master, -and whatever comes between me and him must -be trodden under foot!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her whole being, violently shocked and -almost outraged by the sudden blow, the -reappearance of the unscrupulous man who had -dared to annex her fair young girlhood and -chain it to his fouled existence, rose and -asserted itself in a strong, overpowering -will--to belong to Vansittart, its rightful owner by -legitimate conquest, against all and every -obstacle. The feeling was so huge, so powerful, -she felt as a very feather in its grasp: she -was awed by it, but strengthened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, I must be his, and I shall be!" -she told herself, feeling as if the words had -uttered themselves prophetically, by some -mysterious agency, within her soul. And she -quietly returned to the ballroom, calmed; for -she was as an almost automaton, swayed by -some obsessive spirit which had asserted -itself when she was half wild with despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Entering the ballroom, she saw Vansittart, -pale, his eyes laden with emotion, watching -for her just within the doorway. The heat, -the buzz, the patter of feet upon the parquet--they -were dancing a cotillon--the braying of -the band, took her aback in her strained, -nervous state for a moment. Then she recovered -herself and went up to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take me to auntie," she said, smiling up -at him. "But first, one word! Do I look -ill? I feel so--I am subject to horrid neuralgia, -and it has just begun. I am distracted -with pain! I shall be in bed all day -to-morrow, I am sure! Put off coming till the -day after, won't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it a dream, an illusion--her confiding, -tender manner--that sweet appealing look -in those adored, beautiful eyes? Vansittart -felt suddenly weak and tremulous as he -drew her hand within his arm. She loved -him! He was certain of it! She loved him! -She had not known it till he dared all in that -passionate kiss. He vaguely felt himself the -Pygmalion who had awakened another Galatea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My darling, I am afraid it is my fault," -he murmured in her ear, as he conveyed her -towards the corner where Lady Thorne sat -patiently listening to the prattle of the -surrounding dowagers, and trying not to wish the -evening at an end. "How dear of you to -to say 'No!' Of course I will postpone -coming. But I may call and enquire? No? -Very well! You have only to command me, -my queen, my adored!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could it be real, that faint pressure of his -arm, as he looked fondly down upon that -lovely little golden head? Vansittart almost -lost his grip upon himself, almost forgot to -act the mere amiable cavalier, as he -accompanied Joan and her inwardly relieved and -delighted aunt to the cooler regions of the -ducal establishment, and after vainly pressing -them to take some refreshment, found their -carriage. As he stood bareheaded under the -awning after they had driven off, he glanced up -at the sky--it had been raining and now a -wreath of cloud had parted to disclose a misty -moon--and a vague but real remorse that he -had not kept up with the noble truths he had -learned at his dead mother's knee in those days -which seemed a century or more ago brought -the moisture to his happy eyes. "God forgive -me, I do not deserve her!" was the honest -prayer which went up from his overladen -heart as he turned, somewhat giddily, and -tried to walk into the ducal mansion without -the unsteadiness which might lead some of -those priggish menservants to imagine he -had dined rather too well than wisely. -"But, if I only can succeed in making her my -own, her life shall be a royal one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would he have felt so triumphantly joyful -if he could have seen his beloved, after they -parted?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arrived at home, Joan dismissed her maid -as soon as she could get rid of her without -exciting any suspicion, and spent a night's -vigil in facing the situation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She remembered her innocent, ignorant -schooldays--when, infected by the foolish -talk of frivolous elder girls--they were mostly -daughters of rich parents, Joan's godmother -paid for the education which could not be -afforded by the poor clergyman and his -invalid wife--she was flattered by the admiring -gaze of a handsome young man who watched -her in church each Sunday from his seat in -a neighbouring pew. Schoolgirl talk of him -led to chance glances of hers in response. -Then came a note artfully dropped by him -and picked up by a school friend, delighted to -feel herself one of the </span><em class="italics">dramatis personæ</em><span> in -a living loveplay. This and ensuing -love-letters proved the young man a clever scribe. -He represented himself as a member of a -distinguished family, banished from home on -account of his political opinions. The secret -correspondence continued; then, with the -assistance of a bribed housemaid whose mental -pabulum was low class novelettes with impossible -illustrations of seven feet high countesses -and their elongated curly-haired lovers, there -were brief, passionate meetings. When Joan -was just recovering from her grief at her -father's recent death, the climax came. Her -mother died--her lawyers sent for her. When -she returned to school, it was with the -knowledge that the rich uncle intended to take her -from thence, why and for what she did not -know; that her godmother acknowledged his -right to deal with her future, and that her -days in C---- were numbered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With what agony and humiliation she -remembered that next wildly emotional -meeting with the man she fancied she loved--his -passionate pleading that she would be -his--her reluctant consent--their meeting -in town a few weeks later when she had -boldly fled from school to her old nurse in -the little suburban house where she let -lodgings, and their marriage before the Registrar, -to attain which Victor Mercier had falsely -stated her age, and their parting immediately -after! She went to her uncle somewhat in -disgrace because of her precipitate flight from -school. But her beauty and the pathos of -her orphanhood, also a secret remorse on his -part for his hardheartedness to her dead -parents, induced him to consider it a girlish -freak alone, and to ignore it as such.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had hardly become settled in her new, -luxurious home when the blow fell which at -first seemed to shatter her whole life at once -and for ever. She read in a daily paper of a -discovered fraud in the branch office at C---- -of a London house, and of the flight and -disappearance of the manager, Victor Mercier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To recall those succeeding days and weeks -of secret anguish, fear, dread and sickening -horror, made her shiver even now. In her -desperation she had confided in her old -nurse. "But for her, I should have gone -mad!" she told herself, with a shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will never see him again, my pretty; -all you have to do is to forget the brute!" -was the burden of Nurse Todd's song of -consolation. "Such as him daren't ever show -his face at Sir Thomas'! Your husbin'? The -law 'ud soon rid ye of a husbin' of his sort! -But there won't be no call for that! He's -as dead as a doornail in this country--and, -you're not likely ever to see him again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And now he had come to life, and in the Duke's livery!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was one of the auxiliaries, of course!" -Joan told herself. "But how does he dare -to be here? If only I had the courage to tell -Uncle--all! I believe he might forgive me. -But I could never face Vansittart again--if -he knew! It would be giving up his love, and -that--that I will not do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No, she must endure her second martyrdom -in secret, as she endured the first. -There was nothing else to be done. And, -she must become that most subtle of all -actresses--the actress in real life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Morning came, and she declared herself too -unwell with an attack of neuralgia to rise. -Her aunt came up and petted her, and she -was left in a darkened room until evening -when she sat up for a little.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You need not stay in to-night, Julie," -she told her maid, a devoted, if somewhat -frivolous girl--her uncle and aunt, satisfied -she was better, had gone out to a dinner -whither she should rightly have accompanied -them. "Tell them not to disturb me unless -I ring. I shall go to bed directly and get a -long sleep." Julie left her, half reluctant, -half eager, for her evening out--lying cosily -on a soft sofa, the last new novel from the -library open in her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as she considered that those among -the servants who indulged in surreptitious -outings were clear of the premises, and the -supper bell had summoned the others to the -favourite meal of the day, she rose, dressed -herself in a short cycling costume and a long -cloak, tied a veil over her smallest, plainest -hat, took a latchkey she had once laughingly -stolen from her uncle, but had never yet used, -and after locking her door and pocketing the -key, crept quietly downstairs, crossed the -deserted hall, and shut herself out into the -warm, cloudy night.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-v"><span class="large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The big mansion of which she was the -pampered, cherished darling, lay solemn, -pompous, solid, dark, behind her. Before her, -the pavement, wet after a summer shower, -shone in the lamplight. Dark, waving -shadows against the driving clouds, with their -fitful patches of moonlit sky, were the trees in -the enclosure, dangled by the wind. She -hurried along--turning down the first -by-street she came to--and emerging at its end -into one of the principal thoroughfares, she -hailed a crawling hansom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Regent's Park, Clarence Gate," she said, -in a muffled voice, as she sprang lightly in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To be dashing along the lighted streets to -meet the absconded swindler who had dared -to take advantage of her girlish folly to make -her his wife by law, was delirious work. -Cowering back in the corner of the hansom, she -gazed with sickened misery at the gay -shop-windows, at the crowded omnibuses, at the -cheery passengers who carelessly stepped -along the pavement, looking as if all life were -matter-of-fact, plain sailing, "above-board." A -hundred shrill voices seemed clamouring -in her ears--"turn back--turn back! Face -the worst, but be honest!" She had almost -flung up her arm and, opening the trap, bid -the driver return, when the memory of -Vansittart--of his love--of his kiss--came surging -upon her with redoubled force.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I am a coward, I shall lose him!" cried -her whole nature, fiercely. No! She must -battle through: she must circumvent her -enemy--the enemy to her love, and Vansittart's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But how?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will dare him," was her instinct. "I -will tell him to claim me if he can!" But -that was the madness of passion. Reason -bade her use other means.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One must fight a man with his own -weapons," she told herself, as the hansom -dashed along Gloucester Place, and she knew -her time was short. It was now nearer nine -than eight--she had seen that by an -illuminated clock over a shop. </span><em class="italics">He</em><span> was to be at -their trysting-place of old, when she had -lodged with her old nurse in a street in Camden -Town, at eight. "He lied to me from the -first moment to the last. I must lie to him. -I will pretend I have cared for him! It will -put him off his guard," she thought, as, with -a double fee to the cabman, who said "thank-ye, -miss," with odious familiarity, she scurried -away in the darkness, and crossing the wet -road, turned up that which led to the Inner -Circle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no chance of forgetting the spot -where they two had last met! As she neared -it, a slim, dark figure stepped out from the -shadow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My wife," he exclaimed, in emotional -tones. He would have embraced her, but -she slipped away and leant up against the -paling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can call me that--after leaving me -all these years--not knowing whether you -were alive or dead," she panted hoarsely. -Under any circumstances emotion was natural, -so she made no effort to conceal it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I? It was you who would not reply to -my letters!" he exclaimed bitterly. "I -wrote again and again, under cover to your -miserable old nurse--and don't say you -never had them! The last came back to me--'not -known.' But the others did not--they -would have if they had not reached!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If she had them, she never gave them to -me!" she said truthfully. "And I don't -wonder! I was so utterly wretched when I -read of your--your--flight--that I told -her--all! I had to--I should have gone raving -mad if I had kept it to myself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, all that is over and done with, -thank goodness!" he exclaimed, cheerfully, -after a brief pause. "I will not scold you -for misjudging me--you were but a child! -But you are a woman now, of age, your own -mistress! I have been fortunate of late, or I -should not be here. Speculations of mine -have turned up trumps--and not only that, -but I have friends in the City who will -introduce me to your uncle, and if you only play -your cards well, our real wedding shall be -followed by a sham one, and Mrs. Victor -a'Court will take a very nice place in society. -My dear, cash opens all doors, and I have it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Some one is coming," she said feebly. -His speech had called forth all her powers -of endurance, and, while bracing herself to -bear up as she did, Nature determinedly -asserted itself. She felt cold and giddy--her -limbs seemed as if they did not belong to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a Bobby," he said, with a light -vulgarity which seemed the last straw. As she -turned to walk along by his side, she tottered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't do that, or the Bobby will think -you are drunk," he said, coarsely, holding -her up by the arm. His detested touch -achieved what her slackening courage had -failed to do. She felt suddenly strong with -a new, fierce emotion--was it hate?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I cannot understand how you can be -well off--or, indeed, how you can be here at -all," she softly began, as the policeman -marched solemnly on before them, the light -of one of the occasional lamps gleaming on -his wet weather cape. "I thought----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean, your old nurse thought!" -he went on angrily. "You--you were not -capable of suspecting me, if that old wretch -had not put it into your head! My love, I -was a victim of circumstances. The people -I was with were a rotten lot. They accused -me to protect themselves. They were -bankrupt three years ago! Mercier was not my -real name. My father was Victor Mercier -a'Court. It suited me to use it, that's all! -What--you don't believe me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You told me lies then--why should I -believe you?" she boldly said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you are my wife! It will not -pay me to tell you untruths--nor will it -pay you to doubt me!" he savagely retorted. -"I had expected a welcome! Instead, I -am treated like this! It is enough to -exasperate a saint--and I don't profess to be -that! Come, let us talk business, as you -don't feel inclined for love. You are mine, -and I mean to have you. You understand? -I have waited for you all these years, and -precious hard work it has been, I can tell -you, for plenty of girls as good-looking as -you made a dead set at me--and girls with -loads of oof, too! If I don't get you by fair -means, I will have you by foul--it is for you -to select. By Jingo, it would serve you -right if I went to that wretched uncle of -yours to-morrow, and claimed you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped short and confronted him. -The moon, breaking through the driving -clouds, shone full on her face. Beautiful, -corpse-like in its sombre, set expression, -there was that in her great, shining eyes -which gave him, hardened worldling though -he was, a slight shock. He felt he had gone -too far.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drop the tragedy queen, do, and be my -own little darling once more!" he wheedled, -and would have embraced her, but she slid -away as he approached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen!" she began, in clear, determined -tones, in which there was neither fear -nor hesitation, "unless you treat me with -consideration, decency, respect--unless you -can give me time to arrange matters so that -to avow myself your--wife--will not ruin -me, body and soul, I swear before God that -I will put a barrier between myself and you -which will separate us for ever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pah, pah, pah, spitfire!" he sarcastically -said, swinging his umbrella and beginning -to walk onward. "I know what you -mean! You have some romantic idea of -suicide. You are not the kind of girl who -kills herself, I can tell you that--so that -threat won't hold water with me. Come -now, don't let us waste time quarrelling. -What do you propose to do? Before I tell -you my ideas, let's hear yours. </span><em class="italics">Place aux -dames</em><span> was always my motto."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During her long vigil, scheme after scheme -of escaping him and of belonging irrevocably -to Vansittart, one plan wilder than another, -had agitated her mind. She had at last -arrived at one set conclusion--Victor Mercier -must be cajoled into giving her time. Events -would decide the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All I ask of you is to wait," she pleaded -earnestly, vehemently. "Give me time to -find some way of introducing you to friends, -and through them to uncle and aunt--then -I can begin seeming to encourage you, and -feel my way----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He burst into a derisive laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rats!" he cried brutally. "That sort -of thing won't do for me, my dear wife, I -can tell you! I see you are as big a baby as -ever--you need some one badly to teach you -your way about! No, no! I want you at -once--who and what's to prevent me from -taking possession of my lawful property? -There is only one thing for us to do: to bolt -together--and to leave them completely in -the dark as to your fate. I hear that those -two old prigs who wouldn't give bite or sup -to your father when he was a dying man are -dead nuts on you. We must make 'em suffer, -my darling! We must madden them till -they are ready to do anything and everything -if they can only find you alive. And -we must talk it over--so that your -disappearance may be a regular thunderbolt! -Can you come to my lodgings to-morrow -evening? I want you to myself--it's natural, -isn't it? This road, quiet as it is, is hardly -the place for husband and wife to meet, is -it? What? You can't come?" His voice -hoarsened--he clutched her arm so fiercely -that she gave a faint cry. "You don't want -me?" he exclaimed, in tones which to her -strained ears seemed those of deadly menace. -"If you don't--I know you, you see! I -have not forgotten your kisses, if you have -mine--it means another man! And if it -does, I will have no mercy on you, do you -understand? None!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dare you?" Once more she faced -him, this time in an access of desperation. -"How dare you accuse me of crime? My -coldness, my absolute refusal to listen to any -man is so well known that it has been common -talk in society! More than once I have -felt that uncle has suspected me--and, indeed, -he has sounded me----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her earnestness she was off guard, and -drawing her to him, he suddenly threw his -arms about her neck and kissed her lips--a -long, violent, almost savage kiss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There--go home and think of that!" -he said, with a triumphant chuckle, as she -staggered away and almost fell against the -fence. "And take this address. I shall be -here every evening at the same hour. And -if you don't come--well, you had better -come, that's all! I am not in a very patient -humour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made her way out of the Park at his -side, dazed, trembling. When at last he -consented to leave her, and hailing a hansom, -she clambered in, she leant back, and for a -few minutes was barely conscious. She came -to herself with a sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will God have mercy on me?" she -wailed. "I was so--so--very young!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vi"><span class="large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joan made her way home--how, she hardly -knew. In the confusion of thought -succeeding that terrible interview which had -successfully shown her she was in the power -of a merciless tyrant, instinct guided her. After -Victor Mercier had put her into a cab, and -she had alighted from it in a thoroughfare -near her uncle's house, she let herself in -with the latchkey she had playfully annexed, -little dreaming how she would need to use -it--and meeting no one as she made her -way up to her room, locked herself in to -face her misery alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she tossed and writhed through the -long, miserable night she almost despaired. -Perhaps she would have utterly and entirely -lost heart, had not a thought flashed upon -her mind--an idea she welcomed as an inspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is only one way to escape the grip -of that savage tiger--flight!" she told -herself. Although the sole tie between them -was the hasty ceremony in a Registrar's -office he had cajoled her into years -ago--although she had met him but once -afterwards before he absconded and disappeared, -and that was in the very spot where -their interview a few hours before had taken -place, she believed, indeed she knew, that -for her to try to undo that knot would entail -publicity--disgrace--even shame--that if -she endured the ordeal, she would emerge -unfit to be Vansittart's wife. If </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> forgave -her, even her uncle--society could and would -never overlook the smirch upon her fair -girlhood. She would bear a brand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Victor gave me the idea, himself," she -told herself, with a bitter smile at the irony -of the fact. "He--the man who is legally -my husband until he chooses to renounce -me"--in her ignorance of the law she fancied -that Victor Mercier might divorce her quietly -in some way, if he pleased--"proposed that -we should disappear together, and frighten -my uncle into a concession. What if I -disappeared alone--and only allowed one -person to find me--Vansittart?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That Vansittart loved her passionately, -with all the fervour and intensity of a strong, -virile nature, she knew. Whether the love -was mad enough to fall in with any wildly -romantic proceeding, she had yet to discover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He will seek me as soon as he can!" she -correctly thought. As she was crossing the -hall after breakfasting with her uncle, who--in -his hopes that his only niece and adopted -daughter and heiress was thinking better of -her aloofness to mankind, and melting in -regard to his favourite among her many -admirers, Lord Vansittart--had been -unwontedly urbane and affectionate, a telegram -was brought to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I may see you at twelve, noon, do not -reply.--Vansittart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At noon her uncle would be at his club, -and her aunt had, she knew, an appointment -with her dressmaker in Bond Street. She -went to her room and spent some little time -in deciding upon her toilette. How did she -look best, or, rather, how should she be attired -to appeal most strongly to Vansittart's -imagination and senses?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most women are born with subtle instincts -in regard to the weakness of manhood, -especially the manhood already to a certain -extent in their power. Joan hardly knew -why she felt that a certain dishabille--a -suggestion of delicacy and fragile helplessness -in her appearance, would place Vansittart -more entirely at her mercy; but it was with -this conviction that she attired herself in a -white, soft, silken and lace-adorned tea-gown, -with lace ruffles about her smooth, rounded -throat and wrists--a robe that fell away -from a pink silk underdress which, fitting -tightly about her waist, showed the rich, yet -girlish curves of her beautiful form to the -fullest advantage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her hair had been wound somewhat -carelessly but classically about her small head -by Julie, who was rather excited at having -received an offer of marriage. Joan had -listened sympathetically--she had encouraged -the girl in her love affair, more, perhaps, -because it would serve her own interests, -being one which was to remain a secret from -"his parents in France" until they had -seen Julie, and therefore subject to -mysterious "evenings-out" and holidays taken, -with other explanations to the housekeeper. -Altogether there was a certain softness about -her whole appearance, Joan considered, as -she anxiously gazed at her reflection in the -many mirrors she passed proceeding to her -boudoir, which was on the same floor as the -drawing-rooms, and opened upon a small -balcony full of flowers, with a peep of the -enclosure and the Park beyond, just under -the red and white awning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was eleven when she entered her room -and set herself to write a whole host of letters. -She had barely finished three before a brougham -dashed up to the hall door. She started -up, her heart beating, her cheeks aflame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It cannot be--why, it is hardly a quarter -to twelve," she thought, glancing at the -Dresden china clock. But even as she spoke -she heard his voice--those musical, resonant, -manly tones she loved--and in another -moment the groom of the chambers announced, -"Lord Vansittart," with an assurance -which seemed strange to Joan, unaware of -the freemasonry below stairs which enlightened -the domestic staff as to the wishes and -opinions of the master of the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he came in, tall, his fair, wavy hair flung -back from his broad brow; his large, frank -eyes alight, his cheeks aglow with passion; -some suggestion of a conqueror in his -mien--his very fervour and exultation were -infectious--she could have fallen into his arms -and abandoned herself to his embraces as -if there were no obstacle to their mutual love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As it was she merely gave one limp, chill -hand into his eager clasp, and cast down her -eyes as he said: "I am early--I could not -help it--Joan, Joan, what is it? You are -not glad to see me"--his voice faltered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down--won't you?" she said, and -she sank into a low chair and motioned him -to one out in the cold--but he would not -understand--he drew a light low chair quite -near to hers, and fixed her with an intent, -anxious gaze.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Last night you behaved--as if--you -cared a little for me," he began, almost -reproachfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Last night--I was a fool!" she bitterly -said. "I let you see too much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why too much?" he drew eagerly -nearer. "Joan, my beloved--the only one -in the whole world I care for--for, indeed, -you have all my love, all--I am yours, body -and soul!--what can come between us if -you love me? And you do! I know you -do! I feel you don't want to--and I don't -wonder, I am not good enough, no one can -be--but if you love me, I and no other man, -ought to be your husband!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Understand--I beg, pray, implore you -to understand," she began, slowly, painfully--this -holding her wild instincts in check -was the most terribly hard battle she had -ever fought--"I have sworn to myself never -to marry. Years ago my uncle was hard, -cruel to my parents: they literally died, -half-starved, because he would not help -them. When he adopted me I did not know -this. I had some work to accept his -kindness after I did know. But never, never -will I accept a dowry, a trousseau, from -him--yet I will not explain why--nor will I go -to any man a pauper. Now perhaps you -can see why--I feel--I can only do justice -to myself, and show mercy to him--by -remaining as I am!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean to allow this folly about your -uncle to come between you and me?" he -cried imperiously. His compelling grasp -closed upon her wrists. "Joan, Joan, do -not throw away my life and yours by such -an absurdity--such a whim!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gazed into her eyes with his so brimful -of intensity of passion that they seemed to -draw her towards him. She struggled against -yielding to the appeal, the yearning in his -face--and he, he watched the struggle--and -as she gave a little sob, which was virtually -a cry for mercy, he drew her to him--he -took her in his arms--she was on her knees, -in his embrace, her heart beating against his, -their lips clinging to each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Long--so it seemed to Joan--was she -enwrapped in that delirium of bliss she might -have imagined, weakly, but had never felt -in all its fierce, oblivious ecstacy. Then she -held him from her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, what shall I do?" she wailed--and -clasping his knee she leant her face upon her -cold trembling hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dear, innocent child! Do, indeed!" -he almost merrily exclaimed, stooping and -kissing her fair wreaths of shining hair. "Why -exactly as you like! I don't care a fig for -your uncle--at least, as regards what he can -give you--I have enough for you and a family -of brothers and sisters, too, if you had one. -All I want is </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>, do you understand, you! -You have only to dictate terms--I surrender -unconditionally!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-vii"><span class="large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You have only to dictate terms--I -surrender unconditionally!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Could she have heard aright? Joan lifted -her pale, miserable face--miserable with the -woe of reality after the delirious joy of being -clasped to her lover's heart--and slowly shook -her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no terms to dictate," she slowly, -dismally said. "I cannot go through a secret -engagement! It would be impossible to -keep it secret, either. Uncle will guess! -Why, I have hardly been decently civil to -any man who seemed as if he had ideas of -marriage--he will know at once--and -then--every one else would know--oh, I could -not bear it! It would drive me mad!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke vehemently--and there was a -wild, dangerous gleam in her eyes which he -did not like. Perhaps the mental trouble -it must have been to the sensitive orphan to -accept bounty from the cold-blooded man -who had let her father, his brother, die -unsuccoured, had brought about hysteria. He -had read and heard of such cases. It behoved -him to come to his darling's rescue--to -cherish and care for her--ward off every -danger from one so beautiful, so helpless, -so alone. As he gazed at her, an extraordinary -idea flashed upon him--like lightning -it illumined the darkness--the way he must -go seemed to stand out plain before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dearest, there is a way out of our -difficulty so simple, so obvious, that it seems -to me a waste of time to discuss anything -else!" he said, tenderly, gravely. "You -are of age--you are entitled to act for -yourself! Let us be married as soon as possible -and start in my yacht for a tour round the -world! I can manage everything secretly: -you will only have to walk out of the house -one fine morning and be married to me, and -we will take the next train to wherever the -yacht will be waiting for us, and be off -and away before your absence has been -remarked and wondered at! I will leave -explanations to be sent to your uncle at -the right moment, acknowledging ourselves -eccentric, romantic, blameable, perhaps, but -not unforgivable--saying that we knew so -long a honeymoon would be unpalatable, so -we took French leave--why do you shiver -dearest?" He bent anxiously over her. -"Joan! Won't you trust me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust you!" she gazed up at him with that -startling expression of mingled love and woe -into his face--a look he had seen in a great -picture of souls suffering in Hades--an expression -too full of agony to be easily forgotten. -"Only it seems too much to expect! It -cannot possibly happen--those good things -don't, in this miserable life!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are morbid, dearest, if I may dare -to say it," he tenderly said, drawing her into -the arms with which he vowed to shelter and -defend her from all and every adverse -circumstance which might ever threaten her peace -and content. And he set himself to comfort, -hearten, encourage her drooping spirits, as -he painted the joys of their future life in the -most glowing terms at his command, during -the rest of what was to him their glorious hour -together. To a certain extent he thought he -had succeeded. At least, Joan had smiled--had -even laughed--although the tragic look -in those beautiful eyes--absent, hunted, -terror-stricken, desperate--was it only one of those -things, or all?--had not been superseded by -the expression of calm satisfaction it would -be such relief and joy to him to see there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something is wrong--but what?" he -asked himself, after he had stayed luncheon, -and at last succeeded in tearing himself -away. "Is it only that fact--a miserable -one to so tender yet passionate a nature--that -while she is loaded with luxuries by her -uncle, her parents died almost in want because -he withheld the helping hand? It may be! -Well--anyhow--the best thing for her is -absolute change--as soon as possible--and -that she shall have!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Victor Mercier--it was his real name, his -father, a meretricious French adventurer, -had married his mother for a small capital, -which he had got rid of some time before he -ran away and left his wife and infant son to -starve--had left Joan the eventful night of -their meeting after long years--in a towering rage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His was a nature saturated with vanity -and self-love. From childhood upwards he -had believed himself entitled to possess -whatever he coveted--the law of </span><em class="italics">meum and -tuum</em><span> was non-existent in his scheme for -getting as much out of life as it was possible to -get. Naturally sharp, and with good looks -of the kind that some women admire, he had -not only made a willing slave of his mother, -but when, some years after, the news of his -father's death came to her, she married again, -a widower with a charming little daughter, -step-father and pseudo-sister also worshipped -at his shrine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he ingratiated himself with an -employer so that he was entrusted with the sole -management of the branch business at C----. -Here, he "splurged"; spent money freely, -and--when he heard that the pretty schoolgirl he -had succeeded in establishing a flirtation with -was the only surviving member of the weakly -family represented by the wealthy Sir Thomas -Thorne--he grew more and more reckless in -the expenditure of his master's money and -in his falsifying of the accounts. Like many -others of his kind, he overreached his mark. -When he paid a flying visit to London to -marry Joan before she was adopted by her -uncle--her mother had just died--it occurred -to the head of his firm to "run over" to C---- -and audit the books. The day of Mercier's -secret marriage he heard that "the game was -up," and his only means of escape, instant -flight and lasting absence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was quite true that his firm failed a -couple of years later. But he had then just -established himself as partner in a drinking-bar -in the unsavoury neighbourhood of a -gold mine in South Africa. The lady of the -establishment had fallen in love with him, and -there was, in fact, money to be made all round -about by one who was not too particular in -his morals and opinions. Suddenly, the -neighbourhood grew too hot for him, and he -found it convenient to remember that the -rich Miss Joan Thorne must now be -twenty-one and ready to be claimed as his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he returned with money enough to make -a show, later on, of being rich, at least for a -month or two. The first thing was to find -Joan: the next to meet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An acquaintance made in his comparatively -innocent boyhood happened to be now -confidential valet to the Duke of Arran. He sought -him out, flattered, and--without confiding his -real story to him--made him his creature by -using a certain power of fascination which had -helped on his unworthy career from its beginning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Paul Naz got him engagements as "extra -hand" on state occasions in noblemen's -houses; he had fulfilled three of these before -he attained his end and encountered Joan -at the Duke's--Paul consented to pay court -to Julie le Roux, Miss Thorne's maid, so as -to keep his old playfellow informed as to the -doings of the family, who, he told him, owed -his late father a considerable sum of money, -which he wished to recover privately to save -scandal. That very night Paul was taking -Julie to see Mercier's so-called half-sister act -in a transpontine theatre. "Vera Anerley," -as she had stage-named herself, had been on -tour with a popular piece--was absent at -the time of Victor's return--and had appealed -to his vanity by her wild emotion when they -met. He was to see her on the stage, and -to have a word with Naz, who had had to -probe Julie in a certain direction, after he left -his "wife" in the Regent's Park.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had watched Joan's hansom speed -away in the darkness, Victor Mercier walked -along, then--hailing a passing cab, was driven -to the theatre. As he went he anathematized -Joan in the strongest of mining oaths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like all the rest," he bitterly thought. -"Always another man--they must have a -man hanging about them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alighting at the theatre, he met Naz, a -fair, innocent-looking Frenchman, coming -out. He joined him, saying "Come and have -a drink."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have lost much by being late, your -half-sister is adorable!" said Naz, as they -stood together at the bar of a neighbouring -public-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No doubt!" said Mercier carelessly. "So -is your Julie, eh? By the way, how is Julie's -mistress? Any news?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As I said," returned Naz, in an undertone. -"The beautiful creature is trapped at -last, by a lover who has been out of the -country to try and forget her, shooting big -game! They ride--meet--he was with her -when I posted you in the corridor that night. -They passed me, you must have seen him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Him--who?" muttered Mercier. There -was a gleam in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Vansittart," replied Naz. "The -Duchess has been heard to say it was a -settled thing!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-viii"><span class="large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The Duke's valet prattled on until the -second and third liqueurs had solaced -his being. Then Victor glanced darkly at the -clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us go," he roughly said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The softspoken Naz only thought that the -delightful fluid which warmed and comforted -his gentle self had had a reverse effect upon -his old friend, so--following him gently as -Mercier stalked gloomily into the theatre and -up to the dress circle, which was well-packed -with honest citizens and their wives in their -ordinary habit as they lived--he returned to -his seat by Julie, and left him to his own -devices.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The third act was over. In the fourth -Mercier's so-called "sister" had plenty to do. -She was a peccant wife, revisiting home in -disguise, and seeking her husband's pardon. -It was a pathetic scene, when she sought her -husband and discovered herself. Throwing -off her disguise--she was got up as an old -woman--she emerged sweet, fascinating, -in a white dress, with her black hair in -Magdalen-like confusion, and sinking at his -feet, alternately implored and adored with -such passion and intensity that tears rolled -down the feminine auditors' cheeks, and the -house literally rose to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And all that passion is mine, to take or -leave as I please," was Victor's saturnine -comment, as he leant back in his seat with -folded arms and frowned darkly at the stage. -He well knew that his amorous dalliance with -his step-father's daughter, when he had had -nothing more to his taste to dally with, had -succeeded in inspiring her with so violent -a devotion to him that, if he had not pitied, -he might have come to loathe her. When she -was a mere pretty, stupid schoolgirl, going to -and fro to her middle-class girls' school, -satchel in hand, he had had but little patience -with her absorption in him and his career. -But now that he saw her on the stage, -beautiful with an undeniable beauty, full -of grace and spontaneity, and possessed of -that power which passion gives, he thrilled -with mingled desire and satisfaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Strange ideas rose up in his mind--ideas -of a subtle revenge upon Joan--of intense -and vivid gratification to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Joan will be my wife--my bondslave, to -be dealt with how I please, and when I please; -and as long as I kiss and caress her no one -dare interfere, if I choose that she shall spend -almost her life in my arms with my lips on -hers," he grimly told himself. "But--Vera -loves me--and if I am Vera's lover while I am -Joan's uxorious husband, Joan's pride will not -allow her to accuse me, even if she suspects! -And how her proud, snobbish soul will hate -my giving her half my love--as an Eastern -potentate gives it to his appointed spouse, -while his real devotion is his favourites'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The idea gave him a peculiar and -indescribable pleasure. It seemed, indeed, to -restore his equilibrium. As the curtain fell, -he left the auditorium and made his way -round to the stage door, as he had promised -Vera to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish to see Miss Anerley--which is her -dressing-room?" he asked, when, after -cautiously traversing a dark, unsavoury alley, -he had pushed open the swing door, had -entered a dimly-lit corridor where a sickly -gas flame was flaring in the draught in its -wire cage, and met a man coming towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are her brother? Come this way, -please." The good-natured acting-manager -of the touring company, an eager little man -in shabby evening dress, escorted Victor -along a passage to a door on which "Miss -Vera Anerley" was pasted, and knocked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's your brother, Miss Anerley," he called out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks! Wait one moment, Victor, will -you?" cried a pretty, girlish voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right." Victor paced the narrow, -damp-smelling corridor, hearing the thumps -and shouts from the stage, intermingled -with a murmur of melodramatic music now -and then from the orchestra--making way -occasionally for a stage carpenter in -shirt-sleeves, or an actor hurrying from his -dressing room--until Vera looked out. "I am -so sorry to have kept you--come in," she -said caressingly, and she pulled him gently -in and closed the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me, how do you like me?" she -eagerly cried, clasping his hand with both -hers. There was no reserve between these -two--if, indeed, propinquity had not -established complete freedom from what Victor -termed </span><em class="italics">gêne</em><span> long ago--and she gazed up -into his face with eyes transparent, shining, -darkly blue as sapphires, eyes so brilliant -that in admiring them he hardly noticed the -coarse red and white grease paint which -thickly coated her delicate skin, or the bistre -rings around those beautiful orbs. "Victor! -Speak! If you are not satisfied, I shall -chuck the profession--dearly as I love my -work, I couldn't stand it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Silly child!" He patted her hand, and -looked round for a seat. There were two -broken chairs in the large, bare, cellar-like -"dressing-room," with its high window -shrouded by a torn and dirty red curtain -and its dresser-like table with looking-glasses -the worse for wear under the flaring gas jets. -But he shook his head at them. "I'll sit -here," he said, perching himself on one of -the big dress-baskets under the pegs hung -with feminine garments. "By George! what -a room for a future Lady Macbeth to dress -in, to be sure! My dear, don't gasp! That's -your style, tragedy, melodrama, bloodcurdling! -You're a damned passionate little -witch, that's what you are--and I expected -as much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him a rapturous glance as she -drew a deep sigh of relief and satisfaction, -and sank in a graceful, unstudied attitude -upon one of the crippled Windsor chairs; -and he dryly lighted a cigarette, and gazed -critically at her. She was very fair! Small, -with an oval face under glossy masses of -dark silken hair; slight and graceful, with -a child's hands and feet, and a tiny waist; -yet the shoulders rising from her blue -ball-dress with its gaudy wreaths of pink flowers -were softly rounded--and the contour of neck -and bust he considered "simply perfect." He -ground his teeth and spat viciously on -the blackened boards--there were only pieces -of old carpeting here and there--as he -remembered his wife--and her supposed lover, -"Lord Vansittart." "What a cursed shame!" -he thought. "They wallow in wealth--and -I and this child--bah! there is something to -be said for anarchy, after all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look--well, I feel I should like to -kiss you," he grimly said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She blushed under her paint. Since her -woman's love had waxed so strong, all the -former boy-and-girl intimacy went for -nothing--she was shy of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you did you would spoil my 'make-up' -and would get a dab or two of paint on your -nose," she said, with slight embarrassment. -It was just that coy fear of him in the -abandonment of her passionate love which fired -Victor Mercier when he was near her. Fierce -though his mingled desire of, and hatred for, -Joan had been, and still was, she had never -thrilled him, stirred his whole nature, as -this girl, the companion of his youth, had -the power to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean to say that is greasepaint on -your shoulders?" he said, rising. He crossed -the room, and, although she laughingly -expostulated, he bent and kissed them--then -lifted her chin and kissed her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you angry?" he said mockingly, -gazing down into her eyes with an intent, -triumphant expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know--very well--I could not be -angry--with </span><em class="italics">you</em><span>!" she murmured, lifting -them, dewy with tenderness, with fervour, -to his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Victor started, and stepped suddenly away. -The door was flung open, and a young woman -dressed in nurse's costume rushed in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Vera, what are you about? You'll keep -the stage waiting! I beg your pardon, I'm -sure," she exclaimed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera sprang up, and with a glance in a -glass and a wild pat of her hair, ran off. The -young woman turned to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a near go that time; but I think -she's saved it," she said, somewhat dryly. -"You're her brother-in-law, or step-brother, -or whatever it is, ain't you? She's been all -on wires to-night because you were in front! -She's a good sort, is Vera! We all cottoned -to her when she got the post. But the -stage-manager's got a grudge against her, and that's -why I ran off to get her on in time. He'd -have fined her as soon as look at her! You -see he's taken a fancy to her, and she won't -have anything to say to him. I tell her she's -a fool for her pains--he's a young fellow with -plenty of brains, and his people have loads of -money. But there! She won't hear of it! -I hope you're pleased with us, Mr., Mr.--a'Court? -You are? That's a good job!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Victor Mercier left Vera's colleague a few -minutes later with the understanding that -he would wait for his "sister" at the stage -door. When Vera came out into the dark -alley he met her, drew her hand under his -arm, and marching her out into the thoroughfare -hailed the first hansom he met.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get in!" he commanded. Then he gave -the address to the driver.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-ix"><span class="large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The hansom drove swiftly along through -the muddy streets. Victor sat silently by -his companion. His nature was strung up to -its fullest tension. First had come the -exasperating blow--the discovery that his jealous -surmise had been right--the wife he called -wife because of those few words spoken in a -registrar's office, alone, loved another -man--perhaps was even secretly his. Then had -come the surprise of Vera's -beauty--grace--talent--and the conviction of her great -passion for himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will secure her," he grimly told -himself. "I must tell her--something! To -know there is 'another woman' will make -her irrevocably my own." It was thus he -correctly or incorrectly judged womankind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera leant back in the corner of the cab, -and gazed--rapt, if anxious--at his dark, -handsome profile, visible now and again in -the moonlight which flashed white radiance -upon the puddles and silvered the wet slates -of the roofs. Did he love her? Could he -care for her? She was ready to follow him -like a little dog through the world--if -necessary, through disgrace unto death. For, as -her sex will do, while she had worshipped -him as her hero, she had acknowledged that he -could err. When he had been "wanted" by -the police she knew that he was "in trouble," -if through folly rather than ill-doing; and -while he had left his broken-down mother -without a hint as to his fate, owing her the -money she had borrowed that he might not -starve while in hiding, it was Vera who had -kept a roof over her widowed step-mother's -head--who had toiled and slaved for the -lodgers all day, and danced and "walked on" -at the theatre all night. Yes--unconsciously -she avowed that her idol had feet of clay. But -as she sat at his side, the blood raced madly -through her veins--her heart beat so strongly -against her chest that she could hardly -breathe--she had to clench her hands so that they -should not clasp his arm--bite her lips lest -they should play her false in furtive kisses -of the shoulder so tantalizingly near hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a fool perhaps," she bitterly mused: -"But--he is so splendid--so delightful!" She -gave an involuntary sob--it was so -terribly, cruelly convincing that her passion -was unreciprocated, that while she was -trembling and palpitating with emotion he should -sit gloomily gazing out into the darkness with -arms folded like Napoleon at St. Helena.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He heard it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You little darling, what is the matter?" -he suddenly said--then his arms closed about -her, she was clasped to his breast, her cold -lips were warmed into life by a long, close -kiss; and there she lay, in an earthly heaven, -until they crossed a bridge over the Thames, -now a fairy river like quivering, molten silver -in the moonlight, flowing between mystic -palaces whose windows glowed red in the -shadowy façades, and the cab halted at the -end of the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On his sudden and unexpected return, he -had occupied the rooms vacated by a lodger -called away to his mother's deathbed in -Wales, in the house which was really Vera's, -for she paid the rent, but which his mother -literally lived by. All the rooms except a -parlour and attic she let to students of the -huge hospital in the neighbouring thoroughfare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The windows of the little house all glittered -white save one--that of the "front parlour."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother is still up," said Vera -disappointedly--to cool down and behave as a -sister after that kiss was a terrible prospect! -But let into the silent house by Victor's -latch-key, they found the little parlour silent -also, and empty, although one burner of the -gasalier above the little dining table neatly -laid for supper was alight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the table was a slip of paper: "Excuse -me, I am so tired--Mother," was written on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera trembled a little. "Come, Victor, -you must have some supper," she said coaxingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Presently," he said, looking her over with -a proprietary glance. "Take off that cloak! -Wait, I will do it for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went to her. As he unfastened the -clasp of the old evening cloak she felt his -touch upon her throat--it seemed to make -her weak, almost faint. Then he flung it -aside--it fell on the floor--and seating himself on -the horsehair sofa he drew her down upon -his knee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are all mine! Do you understand?" -he imperiously said; and his dark eyes had -a sinister, commanding expression as they -gazed into hers which frightened her a little, -in spite of her unbounded faith and -adoration. "All mine! I could take you--or -leave you--as I please! You acknowledge it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She nodded. To know he cared enough -to make love to her overcame any poor scraps -of pride that fluttered idly in the wild gale -of her passion for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she murmured humbly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kiss me, then--let me feel there is one -woman in the world worth the taking!" -he said, with scathing irony. At that -moment he told himself scornfully that they -might all be everlastingly banished to Sheol -except this one, and he would not turn a hair. -He could look coolly over the edge of space -and watch their torments with less compunction -than he had felt gazing at the -disembowelled horses in a Spanish bull-fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She threw her arms about his neck, and -gazed adoringly into his eyes, before she fell -yieldingly into his embrace and allowed him -to kiss her again and again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I love you, I love you!" she -murmured in her ecstasy. Unlike poor Joan, -she had no burdened conscience dragging -her back from the reciprocation of her lover's -passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do, do you?" he asked suddenly, -with one of his swift changes of mood, -loosing her, and rising to his feet, taking out his -cigarette case. "Suppose I were to test you, -eh? Frankly, I don't believe in one of your -sex!" He gave a sneering laugh, as he -struck a match, and, lighting a cigarette -stuck it between his lips. "Little wonder, -considering that the old gentleman below -sent one of his hags to work my downfall! -Surely you--a woman--guessed that -a woman was at the bottom of all--my--trouble?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During that silent drive in the cab he had -resolved what complexion he would put -upon "that wretched business," as he termed -his defalcations and consequent flight: in -other words, what lies he would tell this -trusting, devoted girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"W--What?" she stammered--turning -deadly white and gazing at him as if in -those words she had heard her death-sentence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old game! A woman pursuing a -man," he said, with scornful irony. Why -would these women be so terribly tragic? -It spoilt sport so abominably! "Don't be -jealous! I called her a hag--and she was -one! I won't tell you who she was--it -wouldn't be fair. But she made a dead set -at me--and I kept her at bay until my good -nature let me into one of those beastly traps -good-natured fellows fall into. I backed a -bill for a chum, and he played me false, and -left me to pay up. I borrowed money from -the business, and then the governor suddenly -came down upon me for it. I had to take -her money and her with it. Nothing would -do but I must marry her! Well, I did, -and before I had had time to replace the sum -I had borrowed, the governor stole a march -on me, and found it out! I begged her to -settle matters, but she refused! So there -was nothing to do but to bolt--and remain -away--live with the old cat I would not! -What is the matter? She is less than -nothing to me--more, I hate, loathe, and -despise her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had sunk back with a groan and covered -her face with her hands. He seated himself -and drew her passionately to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, come, there is no harm done! -I mean to have you, d'ye hear? And soon! -And as my wife! What else do you think? -I heard to-night there is a man in the case. -I mean to be free, with a capital to make -merry on for the rest of our lives! I've only -to play my cards properly, and you've only -to keep </span><em class="italics">mum</em><span>. Can you, do you think? -Can you keep everything I do and say to -yourself, and help me a bit now and then? If -you can, you'll be my wife! If you can't, -you won't. That's flat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know what I think of you!" she -moaned, gazing piteously at him. "You -know you are the whole world to me--that -I would be tortured and killed rather than -betray you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is there to groan about, then?" -he cried impatiently, springing up. "Upon -my word, you are enough to rile a man into -chucking you, that you are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is there to groan about?" she -repeated bitterly. "What a question to -ask--when you tell me--you are married--when -there is a woman alive who has the -right to call--you--husband!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for long, make your mind easy about -that!" he grimly remarked. He had made -an unalterable resolve that in some way or -another this girl should atone to him for -Joan's shortcomings--yet should herself -benefit to Joan's loss: and he set himself to such -a lengthened course of cajolery and fascination -of his admirer then and there, that the -veils of night were shifting and lifting, furtive -nightbirds crept from their lairs and fled -along the streets as if scared by the dawn--and -the light still glowed in that window -of Number Twelve, Haythorn Street.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-x"><span class="large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At first Joan had been almost fearful in -her new-born hope. The prospect of -flight with her lover, the idea of marrying -him secretly, and starting for a tour round the -world, about which no one would know -anything definite, seemed too splendid a prospect -to be true! Then, as the days passed, and -after writing an enigmatical letter to Victor -at 12, Haythorn Street, the address given -her by him--a letter promising to meet him -in a week's time "with all prepared -according to his wishes"--she had no tormenting -reply, she took heart. Vansittart, in their -constant, but seemingly accidental, meetings--riding, -driving, at parties, and at the -opera--encouraged her by promising that in one -fortnight from the day they had "settled -matters" their plan should be carried out. -All seemed to promise to her the dawn of -emancipation from the consequences of her -past folly; when, awakening somewhat -suddenly from sleep one morning, a terrible -idea flashed upon her--she was unexpectedly -confronted with a truth she had overlooked -in her unreasoning passion for deliverance -from Victor Mercier and freedom to belong -to Vansittart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">Her marriage with Vansittart would be a -bigamous one</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh! Surely that was not a real marriage--that -short ceremony at the registrar's," she -told herself in anguish. "At all events, my -uncle will make it worth Victor's while to -undo it--never to take any steps to assert -that he has any claim upon us. Uncle will -manage it. He will have had his will--I -shall be Lady Vansittart--he will be ready -to do anything, proud man that he is, to -prevent a family disgrace!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a mean way of emancipating -herself--to run away with Vansittart, deceiving -him as to the reason of her strange desire -for what was practically an elopement--to -leave Sir Thomas Thorne recipient of her -confession that Victor Mercier was legally -her husband, and must be bribed to ignore -the fact!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--if I cannot extricate myself in one -way, I am driven to use whatever means -remain," she sadly told herself. "I wish I -had not got to tell lies all round! But if -I must, I must!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Every day she proposed to herself some -plan of "managing" Victor Mercier, so as to -keep him quiet. She hardly liked that silence -of his. Although she had no idea that -he had instituted inquiries, and was -enlightened as to her intimacy with Vansittart, -she felt as if that cessation of hostilities -on his part was the calm before the storm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her brief encouragement was past and -gone. She spent hours of silent anguish, -pacing her room, cold drops upon her brow, -her nervous hands wringing her gossamer -handkerchiefs to shreds. Julie, finding them -in wisps when she sorted the linen, wondered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the day before the date upon -which she was to meet Victor, "with all -prepared according to his wishes." There -was an afternoon fête at the riverside -residence of the Marchioness of C----. Sir -Thomas was to drive her down, together -with Lady Thorne and some friends. Joan -had expected that her uncle would propose -that Vansittart should make one of the -party. She knew nothing of a brief but -crucial interview which had taken place -between her uncle and her lover, almost -immediately after their mutual understanding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Vansittart's honour demanded that, -while respecting the confidence of his future -wife, and acceding with entire self-abandonment -to her wishes in regard to their matrimonial -affairs, he should at least defer in -some way to her guardian </span><em class="italics">in loco parentis</em><span>. -So he sought a </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with his future -uncle-in-law--he contrived to put himself -in his way at the club.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the ordinary luncheon hour, and, -after beguiling him into the empty reading-room, -he began without much preface.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you know--at least, I mean, I -know you are aware, that I love your niece," -he said. "You also know she rejected -me--more than once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my boy--and I think you know I -was deuced disappointed that she was such -a silly little idiot!" warmly returned Sir -Thomas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I have some reason to flatter myself -that if every one will only let everything -alone, and will not interfere, I have a very -good chance of making her Lady Vansittart!" He -looked boldly at Joan's uncle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear boy, no one has the slightest -wish to interfere! What do you mean?" -asked Sir Thomas briskly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vansittart sighed, and shrugged his -shoulders. "My dear Sir Thomas, your -niece is a very extraordinary girl," he -slowly said. "Once married, she will, I -believe, settle down to be more like other -people in her ideas, which at present are -extravagance itself! But I will tell you -this much--the man who refuses to fall in -with them will never call her wife! Now, -what am I to do? Am I to appear to -outrage you by not deferring to your opinions -and feelings in regard to our engagement and -consequent marriage, or am I not? Dearly, -passionately as I love her, I would rather give -her up than behave dishonourably to you -and Lady Thorne!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good Lord, what nonsense!" cried Sir -Thomas with a short laugh. "D'ye think -I don't know that Joan is so soaked in -romantic folly that she isn't capable of one -single, reasonable, common-sense idea? Go -on and prosper, old boy! You have my -blessing upon whatever method of courtship -you think best to adopt, even if it is to roll -her in the mud and kick her, or climb up to -her window in the middle of the night and -carry her off down a rope-ladder! Upon -my word, I am jolly glad that I am not the -fool that every one thinks me, when I stick -to it that Joan has read that Shelley and -Swinburne rot until she can't tell black from -white! Make her your wife your own way, -Vansittart, and it shan't make any difference -in her dowry, here's my hand on it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After such trust on the part of the man who -had the giving of his beautiful niece, -Vansittart continued his arrangements for the -fulfilment of Joan's wishes, feeling as if -treading on air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day of Lady C----'s garden party was -showery at first. But at noon out had come a -brilliant June sun, and the rain had only -succeeded in freshening the rich foliage and -luxuriant flowers of Wrottesley Lodge, on -the Thames--a somewhat older house than -the usual run of riverside dwellings can lay -claim to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The party on the top of the coach were -extremely lively. But Joan sat silent. The -beauty of the day was not for her. The -summer breeze stirred the chestnut blossoms -and diffused their perfume until the air was -honeyed with it--the suburban gardens were -gay with their beds of summer bloom. As -they drove into the road where the gables of -Wrottesley Lodge peeped up among the -sombre pines and firs which screened the -house from the vulgar gaze, the Thames -came in sight, its wavelets dancing in the -sunlight. All seemed careless happiness--even -a boy with a white apron and basket -on his arm stood whistling gaily as he watched -the four-in-hand tool into the drive. Only -Joan's heart seemed like a stone in her breast, -and all around was to her a ghastly -mockery--with that wretched hopelessness -flooding her young soul.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vansittart had arrived early, been -welcomed, fussed with, and introduced to -specially charming girls by his amiable hostess. -But their society talk was to him like the -chatter of the apes he had seen in the jungles--he -gazed at their pretty patrician features -and wondered where the beauty was which, -with other things, had gone to make them -successes of the season. When he caught -sight of Sir Thomas' well-known team of -roans, he muttered an excuse to the girl he -was talking to, and hurried off to help his -beloved to alight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a bustle--Joan was almost the -last to descend the ladder. How exquisite -was that high-bred little foot, he thought, -in the white shoe and delicate silk-lace -stocking--already he was giving lavish secret -orders for a whole trousseau to be on board -the yacht for her use--there must be still more -costly stockings and slippers to clad those -dear, pretty feet! How lovely she looked -altogether--her slight, beautifully curved -form draped in a thin muslin robe dotted with -purple heartsease, with silken sheen -showing beneath--a big black hat with feathers -and pansies crowning her proud little golden -head! But when he met the startled, -awe-stricken, "lost" look of those great eyes, it -was as if some one had given him an ugly -blow on the chest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled, as he welcomed her with a -passionate ecstatic gaze in his kind, devoted -eyes--but the smile was a miserable imitation--and -he felt it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come away--from the crowd--I have -something important to tell you," he whispered. -She gave him a glance of horror, and -turned pale. "What?" she stammered.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xi"><span class="large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>That terror-stricken gaze of Joan's -chilled Vansittart with a vague new -dread--a fear impalpable, indefinite--still -deadly in its effect upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed as he said, encouragingly, "I -can assure you you need not trouble yourself -that I have bad news--everything is going -most swimmingly!" But as they threaded -their way through the groups of brightly -dressed girls and young men in all kinds of -costumes, from whites to the severest frock-coat -permissible at such </span><em class="italics">al fresco</em><span> gatherings, -he gave a name to his misgivings in his own mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not believe it is her brain--she is -keeping something from me--she has a secret," -he thought, as he talked gaily to her, the -current small talk of the hour, while they -traversed the rich, smooth green turf -to reach the path which ran along a terrace -by the river and led to the pleasance--"Lady -Betty's pleasance" it had been -called since the days when a Lady Betty -walked there in hoops and pannier, a little -King Charles spaniel waddling in her rear. -"I must get it out of her! However much -we may deceive our fellow creatures, we -must not deceive each other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where am I taking you?" he repeated -brightly, in answer to her inquiry, although -to him it seemed as if a sudden darkness had -chased all summer brilliance from the day. -"Oh, to a favourite spot of mine--a bench -overlooking the river under some tree--a -hawthorn, I fancy! We can talk there -without any fear of being overheard. My -darling--are you quite well? Are you sure -you are?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they left the open, and were under the -trees--a belt of well-grown shrubbery divided -the spreading lawns from the pleasance--he -stopped, and placing his hands lightly on -her shoulders, gazed with such honest worship -into her eyes, that she flinched and glanced -away. Her lips paled and trembled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I kiss you, dearest?" he almost -pathetically asked--his voice faltered. -In return she flung herself into his arms, and -lifted her lips to his. It was a great moment -to him, that abandonment of passion in his -beloved--but even as their lips met, and -he felt her heart beat against his own, a -horrible sensation of despair mingled with -the relief her spontaneous outburst had been -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She still clung to him after the embrace--her -cheek against his shoulder--and he heard -her groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My love, this won't do!" he cheerily -exclaimed. "You make me feel as if I had -injured you somehow--that I must be a -tyrant--a monster--if you repent of your bargain -there is time yet, you know! Although I -have the licence, and we could be married -to-morrow if you chose, you can draw back. -If you repent of your promise to marry me--I -do not hold you to it! And remember, no -one knows----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stirred--and rose. "No one knows?" -she feverishly asked. "You managed it -all--without--telling </span><em class="italics">anybody</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except the people I was obliged to tell -to procure the special licence," he answered -lightly, as he walked along at her side. "And -they--well, one would as soon suspect one's -lawyer, or doctor, or banker, of betraying -one's confidence as the Doctor's Commons -fellows! It would be absurd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bench he remembered was there, under -the hawthorn, which was still a mass of -bloom. Below a stone balustrade the river -ran, wide, flowing, hastening seaward. They -seated themselves. He took her hand, drew -off her glove, and kissed the pink, soft palm -of her delightful, delicately slender hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How soft it is, dear little hand!" he -said tenderly. "Do you know what the -supposed experts say of a soft palm, or skin? -That the possessor is morbidly sensitive and -sympathetic! I have thought that of you, -darling! I have wondered, sometimes, -whether you are not indulging in melancholy -retrospect--thoughts of your dead parents' -troubles, or something! If so, nothing could -be more foolish and useless! Can we recall -the past? No! it is dead--there is nothing -in this world so dead! Are we not taught -that our great Creator Himself will not meddle -with it? Darling, you make me cruelly -anxious, and that is a fact, by your gloom! -Do you think I do not know--feel--share -your secret suffering? While I cannot guess -what it is, I can hardly endure your evident -unhappiness--I could bear it, if I only knew! -Joan, Joan--I am almost your husband; as -we are to be married so soon, you might -confide in me! Child! My dearest--my almost -wife--tell me! I can help you, I must be -able to help you, and I will! Don't you, -won't you, believe me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His words--his passion--pattered harmlessly -upon her preoccupied being. She had -an idea--by a subterfuge to place her awful -position before him, and hear what he would -say to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course I believe you!" she dreamily -said. "I know you would help me if you -could! But how can you? It is a foolish -and stupid, rather than a wrong, action of -mine, in the past! You yourself say that -God Himself does not meddle with the past! -No! He does not! We have to suffer the -consequences."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--one may deal with the consequences, -darling," he tenderly said. "Tell -me--all--exactly as it is! Won't you? I -knew there was something rankling in your -mind. I can assure you we shall both be -the happier for trusting each other. Come, -out with it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can I put it to you without -betraying--</span><em class="italics">her</em><span>?" she mournfully began, her -strained eyes fixed on a beautiful clump of -lilies, which seemed to mock her with their -modest stateliness, their spotless purity--she, -in her own idea, irrevocably defiled by -her tie to Victor Mercier--her body smirched -by his embrace, her poor cold lips fouled by -his detested kiss. "It was--a dear, intimate -friend, at school. I loved her so, that I -believed in her feelings. I helped her in a -secret love affair--with--a young man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, that was quite natural--there was -no great harm in that, I am sure!" he -exclaimed, heartily, beginning to be half -ashamed of his secret doubts, and telling -himself he ought to have remembered with -what difficulty a girl brought up in a -boarding-school learns life and its meaning, how -a school-girl is handicapped when she starts -real existence in the world.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was harm in it, although I did not -think so at the time!" she went on, bitterly. -"For she married him secretly--and no -sooner had she done so, than he was taken -up by the police for something or another--and -ran away. She never heard anything -of him until the other day, when he turned -up. Oh, poor, unhappy girl! What is to -be done for her? Cannot you understand -that I, who helped to her undoing, am -miserable?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dearest child, we cannot go about the -world bearing the consequences of other -people's folly. It is not common sense, we -have plenty of troubles of our own!" he -said, almost chidingly. He felt just a little -hurt that his love had not been strong enough -to balance her vicarious suffering. The -terrible truth that she was speaking of herself -never once occurred to him. "Your friend -married this man, not you! She must suffer -for it. She had better make the best of her -bad bargain--and really must not worry you! -It is positively inhuman to do so!" He -spoke with slight indignation. She -shuddered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But surely--there must be some way to -rid her of him?" she asked, striving with all -her might to still her inward anguish, and -speak collectedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes, if she does not shrink from a -public scandal," he said, somewhat dryly. -"The young lady can apply for a divorce. -How long since his desertion? Four years?" He -shrugged his shoulders. "She had better -employ detectives to find out his doings -during those years. But she ought to consult -lawyers!--What? She would not do that? -Why not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She will kill herself rather than do that--and -her death will be on my--soul!" said -Joan, solemnly. She looked her lover full -in the face. Why was it that at that moment -in imagination he seemed to hear a bell tolling -and to see a churchyard with a yawning -grave--towards which a funeral procession -was making its way? He gave a -short laugh, which was more a sob. What -a grip this girl had upon his emotions!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What power you have over me, you -girlie!" he said, chokingly. "You seemed -to make me see all sorts of things ... Darling, -if money is of any good to your friend--I -should only feel too thankful to be of any -help----What? It is of no use?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is of no use!" cried she, in a helpless -tone. "None! ... And you mean to tell -me--that that few minutes in a registrar's -office--can only be undone--publicly--in the -divorce court?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is only one other thing that can -free her, my dear child--death!" he said, -seriously. "People seem to forget that when they -rush into matrimony. But--my darling--" -he looked anxiously into her half-averted -face--"do you mean to say that this -entanglement of your friend's is all you have -on your mind--all? Joan"--he grasped her -hands--"trust me--your husband--almost -your husband--anything you may tell -me--will be sacred!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joan shuddered. To hear that fiat of her -lover's--that only death or the divorce -court could free a girl in her position from -that slight yet deadly tie--and to hear it -uttered with such seemingly heartless -barbarity--was almost too ghastly to be borne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hardly understood his last impassioned -appeal to her to confide in him--all--all that -was troubling her. She stared miserably -out upon the river. A steam launch went -puffing up stream. Some one on deck was -singing an apparently comic song to the -strumming of a banjo; for shrill feminine -laughter, mingled with ironic "bravos" was -borne upon the breeze as the verse came to -an end. Then the band engaged for the -afternoon struck up a bright little march -on the lawn the other side of the shrubbery. -The mockery of the careless gaiety of ordinary -life jarred her beyond endurance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us go away from here," she exclaimed, -starting up, and glancing wildly at -Vansittart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His heart misgave him. This meant--he -felt--that she was concealing something from -him. Well! he must have patience, and -bide his time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Presently," he said, in tender, but -authoritative tones--and he drew her gently, but -firmly, back on the seat by his side. "You -must recover yourself first, darling--telling -me of this wretched affair of your friend's has -upset you! And really a girl who would be -so reckless and foolish as to damn her whole -life in advance by linking it legally with that -of the first adventurer who came across her, -is hardly worth your sympathy, by the way! -Come, cheer up, or people may, will think--well, -they will make a shrewd guess that there -is something going on between us, and you -don't want that, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just now, I don't seem to care!" she -replied--and her glance was one of slight -defiance. "You are too hard upon my poor -friend--she was a dupe rather than--what -was it? 'reckless, foolish'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid I must plead guilty to having -scant sympathy with dupes," he said, -somewhat slightingly. Her manner had hurt -him unconscionably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that is why you fell in with -my idea of making dupes of my aunt and -uncle!" She gave a shrill laugh, so unlike -her ordinary sweet, pleasant laugh--the -laugh that had haunted him those lonely -nights and days in strange foreign lands, -when he had striven to forget her--that his -temporary annoyance gave way to concern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is hardly kind!" he exclaimed, -reproachfully. "Remember, it was not I -who wished for this extraordinary secrecy! -However, let that pass. One of the things -I brought you here to tell you, dearest, is -that I have hinted broadly to your uncle -that I mean to make a dead set at you, and -conquer all your various objections to -marriage--and that I have his entire concurrence -and sympathy! Is not that comforting?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may be, to you," she said. "Honestly--dear"--she -suddenly softened, and gave -him a pathetic, beseeching glance--"I am -good for nothing to-day--the past seems to -have its clutch upon me, and I cannot feel -with the present, or believe in a future! You -must have patience with me----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall believe in a future, my angel!" -he said emphatically--that look had swept -away the cobwebs of doubt and vague -suspicion, and he was once again the lover alone, -as he drew her towards him and seemed to -devour her with his eyes. "Listen, dearest--you -have only to fix any day after a week -is at an end, for our marriage, and the yacht -will be ready. It is looking delightful--and -I have already stocked it with a lot of things -I think you will like. All I want now is one -of your old frocks--to have some made by -the pattern--and just one little shoe and -glove"--he spoke hurriedly, somehow he -shrank from such husband-like allusions as -irreverent until she was actually and -irrevocably Lady Vansittart--"may I, can I, have -them, do you think? You see, I want you to -be thoroughly, completely comfortable! And -I do not mean the yacht to touch any port -until we are absolutely compelled to--and -then I shall choose some little station where -one could not get ladies' dresses and things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long shall we be able to wander -without people knowing anything about us?" -she asked eagerly. He was pleased--reassured--to -see how the idea of a lengthy, secret -honeymoon revivified her. She must love -him! How else should she wish to sail the -oceans of the globe with him, alone, as her -companion?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest, that will be for you to say," he -fondly returned, gazing rapturously at the -exquisite profile, waxen and delicate against -the drooping black feathers of her picture -hat. If only the lines under those beautiful -eyes were less sharply defined, and the droop -in those soft, sweet lips less ominous of secret -sorrow!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, as he himself termed it, at that -juncture in their </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> Joan seemed to -"take a favourable turn." First, seemingly -roused from her melancholy mood by talk of -their approaching flight and consequent life -on the high seas, she became steadily brighter -as the afternoon progressed. Returning to the -augmented crowd of Lady C----'s fashionable -guests, they mingled with the rest, Lord -Vansittart behaving with a decorous respect, and -comporting himself admirably as a rejected -suitor returned to the fray. Only when, by -Sir Thomas' special invitation, he made one -of the party on the coach, and throughout -the home-going sat as close into Joan's pocket -as he dared, did he permit himself to drop -the carefully-assumed manner it had cost -him such pains to maintain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, later, he was rewarded. After dining -with Joan and a few guests of Sir Thomas', he -spent a delightful half-hour with her on the -balcony, among the flowers under the -awning. No one could see them from -below--opposite, the trees in the enclosure were -dusky masses in the starlight. The summer -night seemed charged with love-murmurs--the -glittering heavens to twinkle joyously of -the great emotion which brought forth the -Universe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only a few days--and you will belong -to me for ever!" he said, rapturously. Almost -as alone in their sought-for seclusion as if they -were already riding the waves of the southern -seas in the ship that was to see their first -matrimonial bliss, he held her in his arms, -and tenderly, reverently--with almost the -passionate devotion of an anchorite kissing -cherished relics--kissed her pale cheeks, her -sweet mouth, her beautiful, thoughtful brows. -"Darling--I will make you forget all your -troubles--your self-reproach--everything that -can possibly detract from your happiness! -I promise you I will! Do, do say that you -believe that I am capable of doing it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If any one is, you are!" she murmured, -clinging to him. "Somehow, to-night, I -feel happier than usual--as if life had -something in it, after all! And it is you who have -made me cheer up--a few hours with you -has given me a certain confidence--or rather, -I should say, a hope--that perhaps the day -may come when I shall be able to -forget--everything--but my life with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God grant it!" he piously exclaimed; -and for that night at least his prayer seemed -answered--for after he and the other guests -had departed, Joan retired to her room and -seeking her couch, slept more tranquilly and -dreamlessly than she had done since those -evil days when Victor Mercier cajoled her -into marrying him--and when almost on -the morrow, she had learnt that her husband -was an absconding criminal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She awoke, too, with a new sense of -safety--and of the very present refuge in her -trouble--Vansittart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even if he got to know--he would not -turn against me, I am sure he would not!" -she told herself, as she lay and thought of him, -smiling. For once she looked at peace and -happy. "I feel it! How strange it would -be if it turned out that he would have to -fight my battles with uncle? But such things -do happen--in real life as well as in fiction."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She lay and mused happily on the delightful -subject--Vansittart, and the coming days -when they would be all in all to each -other--until Julie came with the hot water and -the letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then--it was as if death itself laid a cold -hand on her heart--for there was one -in the detested writing of Victor Mercier. -He had dared--risked--writing to her openly -in her own home, under her uncle's roof!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What did it mean?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The latent sense of being arbiter of a -beautiful young woman's fate--which -had been perhaps Victor Mercier's only -sentiment in Joan's regard during their -separation--developed, on that evening they met in -the Regent's Park, into a certain passionate -exultation in possessing her for his own, -evidently against her wish. But when he -felt convinced, from Paul Naz' innocent -betrayal of society talk, that the girl who was -legally his wife had a lover, and that already -their names were coupled together, the -smouldering resentment that her girlish passion -for him was dead, burst into a fierce flame -of absolute hatred.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He had enjoyed abandoning himself to the -enjoyment of Vera's love with a double -zest--because it was a secret revenge upon Joan. -He had gone about after he had received -Joan's letter postponing their next meeting, -making subtle and refined plans for the -long-drawn-out punishment of his "faithless wife," -as he termed her. He told himself he was glad -of a week's interlude. If he had seen her -then, he might have betrayed his wrath and -desire for revenge. His tactics were quite -the opposite of that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"First, I must compromise her," he decided. -"I must have her actions now, at the actual -moment, in my power--she must have been -alone with me in such a way as to turn this -noble lord who wants her against her, should -he know of it! Yes--if she had refused to -see me, she might have gone in for a divorce! -But if I have her condonation for the past on -my side, she will have no case--even if she -would not have entirely damned herself with -this cur of a lover!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This accomplished--something tangible in -the present to hold over her head--he would -take her away and make constant and -passionate love to her. He told himself grimly -that there would be a fantastic delight in -this uxorious enjoyment of a wife whose -heart was given to another man, which fell to -the lot of few. The secret ecstasy would -be the knowledge that he had left the loving -arms of a devoted girl who was ready to die -for him, and could return to them at any -moment--for he well knew that Vera's -infatuation for him included wholesale -acceptance of any lie he chose to invent to account -for his absence, or any detail of his life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then--I can play upon them all in turn, -as upon a set of musical instruments," he -promised himself. "The uncle will do what -I ask--snob as he is, parvenu, beggar on -horseback!--to hide what he will think -disgrace! The lover--well, he shall be neatly -disposed of by-and-bye. He shall see me -with her in my arms, somehow, somewhere, -somewhen! Upon my word, that will be -almost as much torture to them both as the -old-fashioned, out-of-date revenges. It is a -poor revenge upon people to kill them! Let -them live--and thwart them, make them -writhe in their impotence to do what they want!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And during this week Vera must be plunged -more hopelessly and abjectly in love, so that -she would become such a mere echo of -himself that she would do, or not do, whatever he -suggested, without so much as a second thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he devoted himself to her, and spent his -money freely in the process. He bought -her pretty trinkets, and some ready-made -costumes and becoming hats--and almost -every day took her some excursion. They -had a day at Brighton, one at Windsor, one -in Richmond Park, one up river. That was -the day before the one in which the crucial -interview with Joan was to occur; and he -chose to assume a portentous gravity, and -to tell her that he must go away for a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My sweetest pet, this being with you -is pretty well driving me mad with -impatience to get rid of that cat of a woman who -keeps us apart," he told her, as, after they -had had a little </span><em class="italics">fête champêtre</em><span> of cold chicken -and champagne, he lounged at her side in a -boat drawn up under the willows of a little -creek. "So I have made up my mind to set -about it at once! What do you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest!" was all she could reply. Her -beautiful blue eyes gazed at him through a -mist of emotion. How deliriously dainty -she looked--flickering shadows cast by the -willow branches on her </span><em class="italics">petite</em><span>, white-clad -figure--the heat of a mid-summer noon -bringing a rich rose glow to her rounded cheeks, -so much more delicately pretty without -war-paint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will necessitate my being absent for -a little while, but that you must not mind," -he went on, judicially, resting his head on -her shoulder and thinking what a wonderful -provision of Nature it was--this unbounded -credulity of enamoured women. Did they -really believe in their men, he wondered, a -little contemptuously--or did their frantic -desire for their love to be returned swallow -up everything that stood in its way? "When -one wants a good thing, one must be content -to make a little sacrifice for it, eh, darling? -I don't think you are as selfish as most of -your sex, I will say that for you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced at him gratefully. One word -of praise from his lips recompensed her for -all the drudgery, hard work, and mental -suffering of the past years--when, not -knowing where he was or what had become of -him--whether he was dead or in prison, or -fallen among thieves in some unreachable -country--she had slaved and toiled nearly -the four-and-twenty hours through to keep -a home together in which, some day, to -welcome back the wanderer, or even the total -wreck of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now you must help me in something," -he went on, sliding his arm about -her slender waist and looking up into her face -with those sinister, penetrating black eyes, -which were, perhaps, the deterrent when dogs -growled and snarled at, and children fled -from, him. "I am not one of those silly men -who talk about their business--who chatter, -prate, prattle, and do nothing!--I say little--but -act! (The secret of successful life, my -dear!) I have not been idle since I returned -with the hope of winning you for my wife. -Already I have found out much of the woman -who was my ruin for a time with her -unscrupulous devilry, which will help me immensely -to free myself from that obnoxious tie. But -I have still to see a very important witness -against her, and I can only see the man at -my leisure at home. Do you think that if I -appoint to-morrow night, you can persuade -mother to go to the theatre with you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you know? She is going to the -entertainment given for the patients at the -Hospital," returned Vera, eagerly. "That -will be the very thing for you! You will -have the house to yourself. Mr. Dobson is -going, of course!" (Mr. Dobson was a -student lodger).</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything smiles upon us, my love," -he said, tenderly, grimly congratulating -himself on his good luck. And he gave himself -up to love-making for the remainder of the -summer afternoon--returning earlier than -he had intended, though, to write that letter -to Joan: the letter which Julie brought among -others to her bedside, and which she read -with blanched cheeks and sinking heart:--</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You must not go to the old place, but -come to me here, to-morrow night, -Wednesday, at nine. If you fail, I intend to -call upon you without demur, and at all risk. -Take a cab to the corner of Westminster -Bridge, the other side of the river, and then -inquire for Haythorn Street.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<ol class="upperalpha simple" start="22"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><span>a'COURT."</span></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xiv"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The tone of the missive seemed to half -paralyse poor Joan. For a little -while she lay prone on her bed, unable to -think, answering Julie mechanically as she -hovered about, pulling up the blinds, getting -the bath ready, placing the dainty garments -ready to hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, with the first returning pang of -despair--for that letter told her that she need -not imagine she was in the least secure--a -sword of Damocles hung over her unhappy -head--she cast about what she must do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Go, of course! that was certain. And -make terms--or, rather, accede </span><em class="italics">in toto</em><span> to -anything he might propose for that flight of -theirs which was never to take place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had better take money with me," she -told herself. "And--to a certain extent I -must take Julie into my confidence." "Julie, -I have no money by me, do you know," she -said, irrelevantly, as Julie was dressing her -golden hair, and wondering why her young -mistress' beautiful face was so pale and -</span><em class="italics">triste</em><span>. Julie usually cashed her young lady's -cheques drawn to "Self" for pocket-money.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I go for madamoiselle--after breakfast?" -asked Julie, sweetly, as she vigorously -combed the glistening hairs from the jewelled -hair brush, one of Sir Thomas' frequent gifts -to his niece. She had always liked her -beautiful young mistress, but since Joan had -sympathized with her love affair with Paul Naz, -she had been ready and willing to fly to the -ends of the earth to do her bidding, if need be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I am going shopping in the carriage, -and you shall come with me. I don't like -your taking much money into omnibuses, -Julie, so I think I shall draw a large sum -at once. It is perfectly safe locked up in this -room."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Julie readily acquiesced--and during the -morning drove with Joan to several shops, -and to the Bank, where she cashed a cheque -for a hundred and fifty pounds in rouleaux -of gold, which she carried in a bag to the -carriage. As they were driving home Joan -told her she wanted her to help her in an -errand of charity that very evening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mais certainement, mademoiselle!" the -girl readily exclaimed. "To-night? I can -easily go out another evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want you to do that," returned -Joan. "What I want is this. My uncle -knows nothing of this poor person I am -helping, and I do not want him to know. I -thought that I might take a sudden fancy -to go--say, to Madame Tussauds', which -I have not seen for years--that we might -start together in a cab--my uncle and aunt -are going out to dinner, and have the landau--and -then I will drop you at a certain spot, -and meet you there again when you are -returning home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Julie acquiesced with acclamation--and -flushed with pleasure at being admitted to -share a secret with the sweet, proud girl who -would, she was certain, very soon be a great -lady. If she had her doubts about the "poor -person," and imagined, from what she -knew by experience of Joan's eccentricity--as -she considered her mistress' coldness -hitherto in regard to the opposite sex--that -the nocturnal escapade meant an assignation -with the charming milord who intended to -make a great lady of Miss Thorne--she kept -it to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress and maid carried out their plan -without hindrance. Sir Thomas teased his -niece a little slily about the sudden fancy for -waxworks--he had, like Julie, some </span><em class="italics">arrière-pensée</em><span> -not unconnected with Vansittart--but -he made no objection to the expedition. -Nor did Lady Thorne, to whom, after his -talk with Vansittart, he had said, after giving -her some broad hints--"my dear, understand -this once and for all--if we give Joan -her head, and don't interfere in the least, she -will be the Viscountess Vansittart before we -know where we are!" Shortly after Joan -had had a solitary tea-dinner in her -sitting-room upstairs--a meal she affected when -she preferred not to accompany Sir Thomas -and Lady Thorne to a long, dreary, dinner-party -of old fogies--mistress and maid started -off in a four-wheeled cab to which a man-servant -pompously gave the address--"Madame -Tussord's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Julie had admired, with a French girl's -admiration, her young lady's </span><em class="italics">savoir faire</em><span>, -when she had suggested that they should -actually make a tour of the exhibition and -take an opportunity of slipping quietly out -when others likely to absorb the door-keeper's -attention were coming in, and had -readily acquiesced in the idea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They alighted at the entrance, paid their -money, walked leisurely in, strolled about, -apparently examining the effigies with interest -then steering unostentatiously towards the -door by which they had entered; they waited -until a number of lively children were -flocking obstreperously upstairs and had to be held -in check at the turnstile, when they issued -forth, and walked along the Marylebone Road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they came to a church, Joan stopped. -"Will you remember this place?" she asked. -"You are sure? Then I will leave you here, -and meet you again at the exact spot at -eleven o'clock. If you are here first, wait -until I come. On no account are you to go -home alone--without me! Do you understand?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Julie's protestations that she understood -were sincere and hearty. Joan said no more, -but took the bag from her--Julie had -mentally commented upon its weight, and -wondered who was the lucky person to be -benefited by its contents--and with an easy -"</span><em class="italics">au revoir</em><span>, then," was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sped along the street as much in the -shadow as she could, lest a glance of -recognition might by any possibility be cast upon -her from any of the carriages which drove by -almost in numbers, for it was the climax of -an unusually gay London season. Then, -when she began to meet crawling cabs and -hansoms, she hailed one, gave the order, -"Westminster Bridge--the Southwark end," -and sank back in the corner a little spent -and exhausted by the first part of her -escapade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So far, so good," she told herself, -drawing a long breath of mingled anxiety and -disgust. Although she had steadily pulled -herself together, willed resolutely to go through -the tragic farce with Victor Mercier, as her -only alternative--her loathing of the part -she had to play was so intense that at times -she felt tempted to take a leap into the black -waters of the great river instead of -submitting to his endearments. As the cab drove -briskly towards Westminster, and her eyes -rested miserably on the familiar landmarks -of the great city, so beautiful in its nightly -robe of the mingled light and darkness which -is so typical of its very soul--she said to -herself in a wild moment--"death or -Vansittart--which?" and the memory of her -beloved one's fine frank face, glorified into -absolute beauty by the strong tenderness of -his deep love--won.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even Victor's touch--his kiss," she grimly -told herself, "are not too much to pay for a -lifetime with </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A clock informed her that it was considerably -past nine o'clock. So much the better! -The shorter that hated </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with -Mercier would be, the more thankful she -would feel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The air blowing freshly down stream as -they crossed the bridge, revived her. She -alighted, paid the cabman, and taking her -bag tightly in her hand, passed some roughs -who were shouting noisily as they came -along, by stepping into the road; then -seeing the helmet and tunic of a policeman -silhouetted against the sky--still dully red -after the sunset--she went across the road -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can you direct me to Haythorn Street?" -she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haythorn Street? Yes, miss. Straight -along that road, and first to the left."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evidently the street where her bugbear -at present lived was an ordinary one, and -respectable. The policeman's tone of voice -suggested that! She went along the road, -which was rather dark, until she came to a -neat-looking street of small, uniformly built -houses. Yes, this was Haythorn Street--she -read the name by the light of the gas lamp -close by. Now to find the number! The -corner was number one, so she went on at -once, and then her heart gave a dull, leaden -thud against her chest. She saw a dark -figure on a little balcony a few houses up, -which disappeared as she advanced. When -she came up to number twelve, the street -door stood open--Victor came out, took her -hand, and led her in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome, my dearest wife!" he exclaimed, -embracing her. Then he closed the -door. She saw an odious, triumphant smile -on his sharp, handsome features, and in his -bright dark eyes. He was carefully dressed. -Although only half a Frenchman, he had the -southern taste for fantasy in costume. A -diamond stud shone in his embroidered -shirt-front, a button-hole of some white, -strongly-scented blossom was in his coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are frightened, my own!" he caressingly -said, with a suggestion of proprietorship -which made her inwardly shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be! We are quite alone in the house, -you and I! And I will take precautions to -keep us so," he added, returning to the door -and putting up the chain.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xv"><span class="large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Joan staggered against the wall with -sudden horror as Victor walked away -and adjusted the chain which shut out -possible intruders. Alone in the -house--with him--and he was legally her husband! -Could she face it? "I must, I will!" -she said to herself, clenching her teeth and -summoning all the fortitude she possessed -to her aid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he turned, he noticed her pallor, the -wild glitter in her great eyes. "At bay," -he thought. "Mad with passion for another -man--hates me--what a delicious situation!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come upstairs, dearest," he said, in the -new, abhorrently caressing tone which seemed -to curdle her blood. "What? The staircase -is too narrow for us both? Then I will go -first." He tripped lightly up the steps, -which were covered with oilcloth, and after -turning up the gas on the landing, stood -smiling upon her as she slowly, reluctantly, -ascended. As she reached the top, he opened -a door, and she saw a well-lighted room -with a book-case, good, solid chairs, and a new -Kidderminster carpet. But a curious odour -floated out to meet her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an odd smell of drugs!" she -exclaimed, standing on the threshold. It -seemed to take her back years, that pungent -odour, to the schoolroom--when she went -into the schoolmistress' little medicine-room -to be physicked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry, but I happen to be on -sufferance in these rooms--their real tenant -is a medical student, who has got leave -because of a series of catastrophes in his -family. Look here! This looks like -business, doesn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He opened a cupboard door, and she saw -a skeleton hanging on a peg. "Oh!" she -cried, shrinking back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed. "I thought you were strong -minded," he said. "But somehow I am -rather glad you are not. But you are not -going to stand there all the evening, are you, -because there are a few harmless bones in -the cupboard? There are worse things in -creation than skeletons!" He spoke meaningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She watched him as he seated himself in -a revolving chair by a writing table. There -was a certain insolence in his manner and -tone, as well as in his depreciatory stare, as -he gazed slightingly at her and twisted his -small black moustache. A diamond twinkled -on his little finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Somehow she took courage from his shallow, -careless attitude--and she was strongly -stirred by a wild idea that flashed upon her. -She would make use of her own scheme with -Vansittart to cajole him into waiting until -the mine was sprung, and he had lost her for ever!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not strong-minded, more's the pity, -or I should not be here to-night," she said, -firmly, and she entered and seated herself -opposite him, once more mistress of herself -and her emotions. "Why not? Because -I should have been with you long ago, if I'd -had the spirit some women have!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You would--have followed me?" he -asked, a little taken back, puzzled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would! Because I believed in you!" -she said, honestly. "I thought you more -sinned against than sinning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is right! A woman's first duty is -to believe in her husband," he exclaimed, -leering at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her husband!" For a moment she -was off guard, she spoke with scathing -contempt. "A husband, who leaves his wife -month after month, year after year, without -a word!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A real woman would have searched for -me the world through, when she had money -to command as you have had!" he said, -leaning back, folding his arms, and contemplating -her with a savage, vindictive expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Money? I have only an allowance!" -she exclaimed, bitterly, and with a real -bitterness. It had sometimes maddened her -since his return, when she thought of what -she might do if only her uncle had given her -the control of a small fortune, instead of -doling out an income. "And that is -where our difficulty lies, Victor. I have -taken a week to think hard about it. Suppose -we hire a yacht under another name, and -wander about for a time, and then I appeal -to my uncle? I think he would be inclined -to forgive--everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you remember, my dear, that was my -idea, not yours," he said, leaning back in his -chair, puzzled. Was it possible that Paul -Naz, and the people who coupled Joan with -that "milord" Paul had spoken of, were -mistaken, and that she cared for him -still--only her pride and vanity had kept her from -showing it? "Not a yacht--bah, I detest -the sea--and to be shut up in a boat! Not -even with you, my beautiful wife, could I -stand such </span><em class="italics">gêne</em><span>! No, no, I have a better -idea than that. Let us lose ourselves in -Paris! You know nothing, you are still a -baby, if you have not seen and enjoyed life -there! But you are a baby--hein? I must -teach my child-wife what life really is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slightly exhilarated by his new view of -Joan, as possibly as potentially great a -victim of his fascinations as poor deluded -Vera, he sprang up, and going to her, took -her in his arms. The instinct to fling, thrust -him violently from her, was cruelly strong. -But she--in an agony of woe and -love--remembered Vansittart, and mentally thought -"for his sake, for his sake," as she willed -passively to endure, while Victor kept his -lips long and firmly on hers. At last she -could bear it no longer, and freed herself -with a sudden frantic effort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will suffocate--choke me!" she -gasped, and her eyes seemed as if starting -from her head--her voice came thickly from -her quivering lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I will be gentler, my tender dove!" -he said a little satirically. He doubted her -again. If she had had "any mind of him," -would not that kiss of his have effectually -broken down all barriers of pique, and -launched her on a sea of passion? But -there was charm to such a </span><em class="italics">gourmet</em><span> in love, as -he considered himself, in appropriating what -she disliked to give. He took her hand. -"Come and sit with me on our friend the -medico's sofa under the window there!" -he coaxingly said. "I want to look at my -wife, to kiss her, embrace her after these -years of longing, of waiting!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him an involuntary glance of -horror and terror. "Presently," she -stammered. "First let me give you the money -I have brought you--let us settle about our -journey, when it is to be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stood still for a few moments, gazing -steadily at her. That look had told him -much--the mention of money when he asked -for love told him still more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well," he said, after a pause, during -which she wondered whether it would end -in his killing her--in that lonely house she -was at the mercy of any sudden outburst -of anger of his. Just then she felt that death -would be preferable to another kiss of the -kind which still stung her icy lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose the money is in that bag?" -he went on, going to the writing-table and -lifting it. "You want me to take care of -it for you, as your contribution to our -honeymoon?" He spoke sneeringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," she said, watching him as he seated -himself before the table. Then she went to -him, took up the bag, and shook out six -common leather purses she had bought at -the bazaar in a great emporium that morning, -and filled during the afternoon. Purses -and gold alike were untraceable. "There -are a hundred and twenty-five sovereigns. -Count them, won't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! I will trust you," he said, with a -sinister smile. "I may be a fool for my -pains, but I trust you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sat as if spellbound, watching him take -a small bunch of keys from his pocket and -open a worn old travelling desk on the table. -It was his own, that desk, she mechanically -thought, as she noted the half obliterated -letters "V.M." on the flap, and wondered -what was passing within his mind to cause that -dark frown, that cruel look in his black eyes, -as he slowly packed in the purses one by one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is a beggarly sum that you have -brought me, do you know?" he said, turning -to her with sudden fierceness--and his lips -were drawn back, his teeth gleamed white -under his moustache. "I am too good to -you! I have that here in this desk with -which I could coin thousands to-morrow if -I pleased. I have only to show your letters, -the certificate of marriage, to your damnably -miserly old uncle, and he would at once -make terms. And you--you would precious -soon find me as much money as I wanted if -I threatened you to take the lot to your -lover, Lord Vansittart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If a bomb had suddenly fallen upon the table -before her, Joan could hardly have had a -greater shock. She staggered back and fell -limply into a chair, staring at him. Her -lips opened to speak, but no sound came. -She was livid as a corpse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was frightened. If she should choose -to have a prolonged faint--such as he had -known some women to have--and Vera -returned before he could get her away!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't make a scene here, d'ye hear?" -he savagely cried--and he went to the -cupboard, and after a clinking of glass, he brought -out a bottle half full of brandy, and two -tumblers, and poured some into each.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take some of that, it'll pull you -together," he said, not unkindly, as he held -the glass to her lips. But she kept them -firmly closed, and faintly shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! Water!" she whispered, hoarsely. "Water!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be so silly! It's not poison! It -wouldn't suit my book to get rid of you, my -love!" he scornfully exclaimed, reassured -by her being conscious, and speaking. Then -he set down her glass on the table, and taking -up his, drank off its contents at a gulp. -"There! You see it is not! However, -I'll get you some water, if you like."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He crossed to the door, opened it, and went -downstairs. She sat up, listening to his -footsteps. A new idea had flashed upon -her. She glanced first at the desk, hungrily, -wildly, then at the cupboard. Then she -rose, stepped cautiously, supporting -herself, for she was giddy, by the chairs, and -peered eagerly in at the half-open cupboard -door, where the skeleton hung. She had -seen shelves of bottles. Scanning these, she -selected one marked "Morphia--Poison"--shook -it--it was half-full--and returned to -the table. Taking out the stopper, she -poured the contents into the bottle of brandy, -swift as a flash returned the morphia-bottle -to its place on the shelf, then, going back to -her chair, leant against the wall in the -exhausted attitude she had been in when he -left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He drinks," she gloomily told herself. -"He will take more. I must make him fall -asleep. Then I will secure those letters."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvi"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She closed her eyes and listened to the -patter of his footsteps, running up the -oilcloth-covered stairs. He came in evidently -breathless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't say I didn't make haste," he -said, pantingly, as he poured some water -from the glass jug he was carrying into his -own tumbler, which was empty. "You won't -mind your husband's glass, of course." He -handed it to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Joan, who felt sternly apathetic--with -but one dominant feeling--to circumvent -this fiendish being, and possess the -letters and certificate with which he -threatened her. And she drank the water off at a -draught, even as he had drunk the brandy. -The glass must be empty to hold the drugged -spirit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great Scott!" he laughed, contemptuously, -as he took the empty tumbler and -looked curiously at it. "To see any one -gulp down water like that gives me the -shivers! Pah, I must positively warm my -nerves after seeing you do it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She watched him, fascinated, as he poured -out another half-tumbler of the now drugged -brandy, and dashed a few teaspoonfuls of -water into it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is how I take my liquor--like a -man!" he said, after a long drink, setting -the nearly emptied glass down on the table. -"Ah! I feel better of my temper already. -You must not pay attention to what I said -just now, old girl! I didn't mean it, really -I didn't! Some one said something to me -about a Lord Vansittart or somebody having -boasted he would have you, or die. You -doubtless know of the fellow! But you must -be accustomed to that sort of thing by this -time, eh? Your uncle has a big fortune to -leave." He smiled sardonically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She thrilled--a curious, cold thrill, at the -insult. But she controlled herself. "Victor--I -have always remembered that I was your -wife," she solemnly said. "My uncle has -teased me to marry. I have never--encouraged--any one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you have a sneaking liking for -your 'darling,' as you used to call me, eh!" -he said, a little thickly. The brandy was -already making him feel less critical and -sceptical in his mental attitude towards Joan -and mankind in general. "Come and sit -on the sofa under the window. There is -hardly a breath of air in this blessed little -room. How I hate tiny rooms! I hope this -is the last I shall ever be in!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held out his hand. What was she to -do? After a swift query to herself, she -determined to dare all--to woo him to that -drugged sleep during which she would abstract -his keys, open that desk, and steal those -incriminating documents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She allowed him to lead her to the sofa and, -seating himself in the corner, encircle her -with his arm. The evening air came in -through the window which opened upon the -little balcony where, coming along the -street, she had seen him, a dark figure in -the twilight, awaiting her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is pleasant here, is it not?" he said, -with a sigh, telling himself that he must have -taken a bigger "dose" of that brandy than -was prudent at this juncture, for it seemed -to have affected his speech. His tongue was -not so ready in its compliance as usual, and -his eyes felt stiff, his eyelids heavy. "Perhaps -it was running upstairs so fast, not knowing -what she might not be up to," he thought, -remembering a caution given him by a doctor -that his heart was weak--a timely warning -he had derided at the time, but which often -crossed his mind when he "felt queer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it is very nice," said Joan, nerving -herself to act--to conceal her violent loathing -of him. "But as you like plenty of air about -you, why not do as I suggest? Let us start -in a steamer--a sailing vessel if you please--so -that all trace of us is lost for a time, and -uncle and aunt will not be able to imagine -what has become of me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She talked away, pitching her voice in a -slumberous, monotonous tone, as she had -learnt to do from a nurse, when Lady Thorne -had a serious and tedious illness after her -first year with them as their adopted daughter. -The terror of the crisis, the tremendous issues -depending upon whether the brandy she had -drugged would send Victor to sleep and allow -of her stealing her letters from that desk, -lent her eloquence. She painted her uncle -and aunt's state of mind when they would -find her flown, in vivid colours--she held out -the prospect of unlimited wealth they two -would eventually enjoy--all to gain time -until the morphia should hold him powerless. -It was a big dose he had taken, she hopefully -thought, even were he one of those unhappy -mortals addicted to the use or abuse of -narcotics. And as she talked on and on, she -stealthily watched his face, his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is all--very fine--and large, as they -say," he vulgarly returned--and wondered -in a vague, stupefied way why his voice -sounded so far off--an echo of itself. -"But--but--well, I--like--Paris--Paris--d'ye -understand--Paris--you fool--what 'yer -starin'--at--? Can't ye get--me--some--no, -no--water--water--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something heavy was gathering in his -chest. He felt breathless. He tried to push -her away, but he could not move.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She jumped up, startled by his pallor, his -sunken look--the gathering purple round his -eyes. His nose stood out sharply from his -face. She poured the drugged brandy into -her untouched glass of the spirit, and filling -the empty glass with water, brought it to him. -He seemed to squint curiously at it, but -allowed her to hold it to his lips. He swallowed -a little, but it trickled from his mouth. What -was this horrid feeling--this -weight--powerlessness?--he asked himself--stupidly--then -he thought suddenly of Vera, and the dread -of Joan's being found with him by her brought -a temporary rally from the strange, helpless -drowsiness which had him in its grip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go--go! Now! You--mustn't be -found here--d'ye hear me? Go!" he -spluttered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me stay till you are better," pleaded -Joan. But he gave such a choking oath -that, remembering she could feign leaving -him and return, she pretended to obey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will write and tell me when to come -again, won't you?" she said; then, as he -staggered into a sitting position and -stammered out another terrifying oath, she fled, -with a backward glance of terror and misery -over her shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down the narrow stairs, along the hall she -went. Unchaining the door, she opened it -for an instant or two, then closed it with a -slight bang, as one might do from the -outside. Then she leant up against the door -silently and listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was not a sound in the house into -which she was shut, alone, with the man she -had drugged. She could hear her quickened -pulses as they ebbed back into a more normal -beat. From below came a steady ticking--a -kitchen clock, she thought, sounding -loud in the empty, sparsely-carpeted dwelling. -Then it struck; listening, fascinated, -she counted eleven strokes.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xvii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Merciful Heaven--it can't be that!" -mentally exclaimed the unhappy -girl. "Why--people will surely be coming -in--I shall be found--and he--like that--with -the drugged brandy in the bottle--and -I shall not even have got my letters out of -that desk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She silently wrung her hands; then, -determined to dare or lose all, she crept slowly, -cautiously back, along the hall, up the stairs, -and peeped in at the half-opened door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was lying almost prone on the sofa--his -head thrown back--slowly, slowly snoring.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stole in and gazed fearfully at him. He -looked corpse-like, but she thought he would -naturally do that after that dose of morphia. -Insensible! Peering into his face, she saw his -eyes, filmy, fishy, between the half-closed -lids. She touched his breast pocket, -cautiously--her heart beating fast and strong. -Nothing there but the white handkerchief, -arranged in dandified fashion. As she stooped -the scent of the flower in his buttonhole -turned her deadly sick. All seemed to surge around.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This won't do!" she told herself, wildly. -Then, with a violent effort, she lifted the hand -that lay limply upon his knee across his -trouser pocket. It moved easily. She laid -it down with a light, almost tender touch, as -she remembered she had seen him return his -keys to the very pocket where she now saw -them bulging, and putting her fingers gingerly -into the pocket, she drew them out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God!" she murmured, almost -hysterically, and, telling herself that if only -she could hold witnesses in her hands to that -absurd, so-called marriage of him with her, -and could dictate terms, every farthing she -might inherit from her uncle should be his, -and more--she went to the table, found the -tiny key in the bunch, and opened the desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as she was beginning to remove the -leather purses of gold she had brought him -from the well of the desk, so as to search -beneath, a prolonged, curious, hissing snore -seemed to arrest her very breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and went to him. The hissing -sound was barely over--how curious it was, -that half-snore, half breath! He lay still -still--still as----</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, no! It cannot be that! He -looks asleep, and as happy as if he were an -innocent little child!" she assured herself, -returning to the table and to her task. Out she -quickly took them, one by one, those silly -purses--how puerile money and all those things -seemed, she told herself, at such a moment--and -then peered anxiously at the packets of papers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Eureka! Her girlish handwriting! There -was a package--she drew it out, and in the -middle projected a paper--she could not -undo the knots--there was no time--but she -turned down a corner and saw printed -letters--a margin----</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seizing her little bag, she thrust them in, -and rapidly restoring the purses to their -place, locked the desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I put the keys back in his pocket?" -she asked herself. "No! I can leave them -on the table. It is of no use trying to hide -my having taken the letters. He will discover it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She glanced round the room. What else -must she do? She frowned and bit her lip -as the brandy bottle caught her eye. There -was still remaining a certain quantity of the -drugged liquid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any more would certainly make him -very ill, if it did not kill him--and he will -very likely start drinking again when he -wakes up," she mused. "Can I pour it -away?" She looked uncertainly at the door. -No, it was too hazardous. Then she remembered -she had seen some brown paper in that -cupboard where the skeleton hung.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more she went to the cupboard and -took out a crumpled sheet of brown paper, -smiling almost derisively at the grinning -skull of the hanging skeleton.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How true you were when you said -there were worse things than skeletons," -she thought, inwardly apostrophizing the -sleeper, as she quickly wrapped the bottle in -the paper. Then, mentally wishing him a -better and more generous spirit in her regard -when he awoke, she ran rapidly downstairs -with bag and bottle, and in another moment -was in the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her success, her escape, filled her with a -joy which made her feel almost delirious. -Still, she noticed a hansom with a lady in it -drive past, and with an almost contemptuous -mental comment--"she cannot be living at -Number 12," she looked back over her -shoulder, then stopped short, and leaning -against the rails, watched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hansom did stop at the house she had -left. More, the lady alighted--briskly, as -if she were as young as she was slim and -alert--looked up and down the street, as if, indeed, -Joan thought, she, too, had noticed herself, -and wondered what she was doing in Haythorn -Street at that hour, and then, after -paying the driver, ran up the steps and let -herself in with her latchkey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A lodger," thought Joan. "I wonder -if she knows him!" Then she turned and -almost fled along the street, for the cabman -had turned and waved his whip. To take -that cab would be madness! Besides, she -meant to lay that bottle quietly in a corner at -the very first opportunity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It came a few moments before she reached -Westminster Bridge. She saw a doorway -in the shadow, and quick as lightning she -had deposited her bottle there and had gone -onward. Almost a slight unconsciousness -possessed her after that. She hailed a cab, -drove to the spot where she had left Julie, -and alighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been here since eleven, mademoiselle!" -exclaimed Julie, coming forward after -she saw the cab drive off. She had been -confiding in her lover--or rather, Paul Naz, -as his friend Victor Mercier's honorary -detective, had been worming matters deftly from -her--and his advice had been to her to be -very, ah, most exceedingly discreet, and the -young lady would for her own sake prove -their best friend in the future. "It is nearly -half-past now--shall I call a cab?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A crawling hansom was hailed, and before -midnight a sleepy man-servant of Sir Thomas -admitted them. He was just going to bed, he -said, in a drowsy and somewhat injured tone. -"I told Sir Thomas and my lady you was -in and gone to bed, m'm," he said, almost -reproachfully. "They come in half an hour -back! I am sure I thought you was, or I -shouldn't have said it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It doesn't matter in the least, Robert," -Joan cheerfully assured him, and she went -to her room with Julie, feeling more elated -than she had done since the awful morning -four years ago when she had to accept the -fact that she was the grass-widow of a -blackguard. Julie speedily dismissed, she spent -a couple of hours over her letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The printed paper was her marriage -certificate. The letters were six in number, -nearly worn into shreds, and black with dirt. -She read them through, she made a note of -the dates on the certificate, then she burnt -them under her empty grate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Once more I am free!" was her last -exultant thought before she slept. "If I -keep Victor at bay for a few days, I shall be -off and away with </span><em class="italics">him</em><span>; and without those -documents Victor is practically powerless! -If he gets another certificate, Joan Thorne -might have been any one--some one married -under an assumed name. He has nothing -to support his assertions!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xviii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Joan awoke after a few hours' -slumber, it was to a sense of racking -headache and utter exhaustion. She could -only vaguely feel, rather than remember, -the crucial events of the previous night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A punishment for having dared to -drug poor unfortunate Victor," she told -herself, as Julie, after administering tea, left -her alone in the darkened room. She could -almost pity Victor Mercier, now that she had -circumvented him by stealing those -incriminating documents, and thereby, if not -entirely destroying, certainly weakening, his -hold upon her. "His headache, if he has -one, as I expect he has--he looked awfully -ill lying there under morphia--can hardly -be worse than mine," she mused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a long, weary day of pain. Towards -evening, however, her suffering abated. "I -will get up, Julie!" she said, when her -faithful attendant came in on tiptoe for about the -twentieth time. "But I will not go down. -I will have some tea up here. Yes; you -may bring me a little chicken--I think I -could eat that. And--Julie--let me -see--yes--one or two of the evening papers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the dull weight had lifted from her -weary head, she had begun to think -again--and the dominating as well as tormenting -misgiving she had felt on the subject of -her escapade of the previous evening was -anent that bottle with drugged brandy in it, -which, wrapped in brown paper, she had left -in the darkened entry of a house situated in -some street the other side of Trafalgar Square.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder who found it?" she uneasily -asked herself. What would the finder think -of his or her discovery? Would he or she be -sufficiently idiotic to partake of the -contents--and if he or she did?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shuddered. "No one would!" was -her mental comment. She consoled herself -with memories of the extraordinary accounts -she had read of narcotic-consumers. Still, -of course, those had been the </span><em class="italics">habitués</em><span>, who -had gradually become accustomed to the -drugs. Why, oh, why had she not thought -of pouring away the wretched stuff before -she threw away the bottle? It would then -have been empty and harmless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was interrupted in her self-reproach -by the entrance of her maid with the tea-tray -and the evening papers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle must really eat some-ting," -said Julie, coaxingly, as she arranged the -enticing tray on the table at her mistress' -elbow--Joan was lying back wearily in a -big easy chair. "The chicken is delicious, -I can assure mademoiselle--I saw it cut -myself--and the tea--just as mademoiselle likes it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She poured out the tea and prattled on. -As Joan was just languidly uncovering the -chicken, hardly giving any attention to the -girl's flow of talk--she was speaking of the -actress she had seen perform the night Joan -first met Victor in the Regent's Park--a -certain word half startled her from her -reverie--the word "suicide." Then, in her -strung-up, nervous state, with that bottle -on her mind, she was at once on the alert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who? What suicide?" she sharply -asked. "Not the girl you saw act, and liked -so much?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, mademoiselle, her brother," returned -Julie earnestly. "Poor girl! Such an -awful thing! Robert, who always reads the -</span><em class="italics">journaux</em><span> when they arrive--he airs them, -you know, mademoiselle--told me, for he -knows I admired this Vera Anerley. It seems -she had returned from the theatre to find -her brother lying on the sofa--quite -dead--alone in the house!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan had clenched her hands on the chair as -she listened incredulously. What a horrible -coincidence, she thought, that Julie should -have such a grotesquely parallel tale to tell -her--with such a tragic conclusion, when -only last night she had seen Victor Mercier -lying in that deathly sleep on the sofa, also -alone in the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very dreadful for her, indeed," she -slowly said, striving to recover from what -was almost a shock in the circumstances, and -sipping her tea. "Is the--the--story in one -of those papers you have brought me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, mademoiselle! I can find it--Robert -read it me--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind! I will find it myself, -presently," interrupted Joan. Then she sent -the eager girl downstairs with a message -that "she could not come down that evening; -she had had no sleep, and was going to bed -immediately"--a mission invented more to -get rid of her than anything else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was it which made her spring up -from the door and lock it, almost as it closed -upon Julie? Why did she dart back to the -table, seize the paper her maid had taken -up and laid aside again at her bidding, and -holding it in her trembling hands, scan its -pages feverishly with her strained eyes--eyes -almost blinded by intense fear?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was more an awful sense of certainty -than mere dread. As she found the -paragraph she sought, she fell limply into a chair, -and staring madly at the cruel words, told -herself it was no surprise. No! She had -known something terrible had happened--all -through those hours of cruel physical -pain--she had known it!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew it, I knew it!" she gasped, as -for a third time she read the fatal words, -with a mad hope that she was under a -delusion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">"MYSTERIOUS DEATH IN HAYTHORN STREET, S.W.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A tragic occurrence of more than ordinary -public interest occurred in Haythorn Street, -S.W., last night. The young actress, Miss -Vera Anerley, whose attractive performances -at the ---- Theatre we have already recorded, -returned home to find her only and favourite -brother, Victor a'Court, lying lifeless on the -sofa in his room. The doctor, who was at -once secured, pronounced life extinct, and by -certain appearances, suggested suicide. At -the inquest some sensational evidence seems -likely to be given."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Yes," she thought, as she struggled to the -window, flung it open, and leant against the -lintel, gasping, fighting for breath in her -threatened faintness--her eyes were unable -to see properly, there was a surging and -roaring in her ears--he was dead--dead! And -she--legally his wife--had killed him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I poisoned him!" she mentally told -herself, in a species of dazed, wondering -incredulity. "I sent him to face God--all his -sins on his soul--oaths on his lips! I am -lost--eternally--for ever--lost!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed to her as if a huge, yawning -gulf had arisen between her and all clean, -honest human beings. Her past life lay the -other side. She had done the worst of all -deeds. She had destroyed a fellow creature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And--my own soul with him!" she -groaned, in her extremity of fear and horror. -The climax of her life seemed to her over, -now that she knew--realized--the fact. After -the first awful minutes, a dull, dead calm -took the place of her overwhelming, hideous -agony. She could see and hear again. As -she leant against the wall she noted two -smart young nurses in white, wheeling their -perambulators out of the enclosure below. -She saw one of them turn and lock the gate--she -heard the key grate in the lock, and -the other girl cry out sharply, "Master Dickie, -leave it alone!" as a handsome little fellow -in white knickers laid hold of the handle of -the little carriage. Then a fox-terrier ran -by, barking, and a tradesman's cart rattled -swiftly along. A coster sent up his -long-drawn-out cry in the distance. And--and--she -was a murderess!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laughed aloud, and then, frightened -by the irresponsibility of her actions, she -crawled slowly, miserably, across the room, -gulped down a glass of water, and bathed -her face. As she did so, she sickened--remembering -how he had gasped--"water, -water!" If only that choking prayer had -told her that he was in danger--why, she -would have risked discovery, disgrace, even -the loss of Vansittart, to save the life she -had endangered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She recalled her former fancied love for -the slim, handsome young foreigner. How -she had admired him as he gazed fatuously -at her in church! What a subtle, delicious -excitement there had been in his veiled -wooing, their hardly-obtained, schemed-for -clandestine meetings! Her mother's death -had destroyed the glamour of the pseudo love -affair. Still, he had had sufficient compelling -power over her emotions to bring her to marry -him secretly. Then, of course, the thunderbolt -had fallen which had destroyed her girlish -passion at a blow--the </span><em class="italics">exposé</em><span>--the discovery -that he was an absconding criminal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Still--nothing--nothing--can excuse -me--from first to last," she acknowledged to -herself, in despair. "I am--lost! Fit only -to consort with the creatures who are for -ever the enemies of God."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as she told herself this, with a pitiful -sob, there was a knock at the door. "May -I come in? I have something for you!" -cried her uncle, cheerily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One wild look round, then an almost savage -instinct of self-preservation leaped up within -her, forcing her into self-possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," she said, crossing to the door -and opening it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you better, dear? You don't look -up to much," said Sir Thomas, gazing -critically at her. "Vansittart has just been -here, and left this for you. I had asked him -to come in and have dinner with us. But -hearing you were ill, he would not stay."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xix"><span class="large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Sir Thomas Thorne was sincerely, honestly -attached to his beautiful young orphan -niece--perhaps the sentiment was all the -stronger for being tinged with a latent -remorse for his callous attitude towards her -dead parents in the still unforgotten past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was almost a shock to him to see Joan -look so "awfully bad," as he termed it to -himself. As he placed his paper package, -a round, light one, on the nearest table in -her bright, pretty bed-chamber, and seated -himself by her, he wondered, a little anxiously, -whether she was not perhaps ill with the -insidious family disease which had "made -short work" of his younger brother, her -father. Ill-health would account for most of -what he considered her "vagaries."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you ought to see the doctor, -Joan--really I do!" he exclaimed, with -concern, as he gazed at her. She was white -as her cream cashmere dressing-gown, and -there were deep bistre circles round her more -than usually brilliant eyes. "Let me send -for him----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am all right!" exclaimed Joan, -easily. She wondered at this new, unwonted -self-possession. It seemed to her as if -she--she--Victor's slayer--were standing -aside--apart--and watching the doings of the -better self from which her past actions had -for ever divorced her. "What have you -brought me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Flowers, Vansittart said," replied her -uncle, brightly. "I met him at the club, -and he seemed as if he were to have a lonely -evening--it was just one of those blank -nights when one happens to have a lull in -one's engagements--so I asked him to come -in to dinner. He came, and brought this; -but went away, as I said, when he heard you -were out of sorts, saying he would call round -and inquire in the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He tore away the paper covering and -disclosed a basket of blue and white flowers--a -</span><em class="italics">chef-d'oeuvre</em><span> of a West-End florists. "Pretty, -aren't they?" he said, handing them to -Joan, his head admiringly on one side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very," she returned mechanically, -making a pretence of appreciation. The blue -flowers were forget-me-nots. To her strung-up -imagination they looked like innocent -child-eyes gazing at her with reproach. Once -she and Victor had sat by a stream, and she -had picked some from the bank and fastened -them in his coat--he always liked a -"button-hole"--Bah! These horrible thoughts!--What -was her uncle saying? "He said -he thought you looking ill. He wondered -I had not sent to the doctor before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He--who?" asked Joan, sharply. "Lord -Vansittart? What has he got to do with it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There! You are going to faint," -exclaimed her uncle, alarmed and annoyed, as -she paled to lividity, sank back in her chair, -and thrust the basket into his hands. Oh, -the irony of fate! She had seen the exact -counterpart among the flowers of the thick, -small-petalled white blossom in Victor -Mercier's coat that terrible last night--when -she poisoned him. The perfume -recalled it all--the waxen, deathly face, the -still, silent form--the little room with the open -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is the scent--it makes me feel faint -when I am well, the odour of daphne, or -tuberose, or whatever it is!" she stammered, -forcing herself to speak with a gigantic effort. -"And when one has a headache like mine -it is worse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will put them outside," said he, -consolingly. She watched him as he did so, -clumsily trying to tread softly as he went to -the door. Poor, kind uncle! If he -knew--if he knew!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know," he began, scanning her -livid features with solicitude as he returned, -and resuming his seat, pitched his voice in a -low undertone, which only succeeded in -producing a hoarse croak, so unlike his own -cheery voice that in her hysterical, strained -state she barely repressed a shriek of -agonized laughter. "I am almost sure, indeed, -I may say I feel convinced, that this headache -of yours is a nervous attack brought on by -seeing those waxworks last night. I am -sure you went into the 'Chamber of Horrors,' -and looked at the murderers. I did when I -was about your age, and it got on my nerves. -My opinion is, that that making effigies of -terrible criminals who have dared to take -their fellow-creatures' lives, and exhibiting -them for money, is wrong, and ought to be -forbidden. The law is right when it orders -such human monsters to be buried within the -prison, and their bodies consumed with -quicklime. They ought not to be remembered! -Every trace of their awful crimes ought to be -instantly obliterated--ah! I thought as -much! You shudder at the very recollection -of those wicked faces! A delicate, innocent -young girl like you ought not to go to such -places! What? You did not go into the -'Chamber of Horrors?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think so," stammered Joan -faintly, closing her eyes, and wondering how -long this crucifixion of her soul would last. -All her life? "But--what do you mean--the -bodies consumed by quicklime? In the prison?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind, we won't talk of such -things!" said he, cheerfully. "Oh--poor -little cold hand!" He was startled by the -deathly icy touch of the hand he had taken -between his warm palms. "Ah! There is -your aunt! Come in, my dear! I was just -telling Joan that I shall insist upon her seeing -the doctor----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure you will insist upon nothing of -the kind, Thomas," said Lady Thorne, entering -in her handsome, sober black dinner-dress, -redeemed from too great plainness by the -diamond pins in the black lace head-dress -crowning her iron-grey hair, and the pearl -and diamond necklet and brooches around -and about her lace-encircled throat, and -seeming to bring in a matter-of-fact -atmosphere from the outer world of ordinary -commonplace, which jarred upon and -supported Joan at one and the same time. "Joan -has nothing the matter with her but a little -neuralgia. She wants a good long sleep, -and she will be as well as ever to-morrow -morning. You leave her to me, and don't -meddle with what you men, however clever -you may be, know nothing about!" And -Lady Thorne, who remembered her own -girlish "attacks" during her love anxieties, -and who had no mind for visits from a doctor -who might order change of air and nip the -engagement with Lord Vansittart in the bud, -bustled her husband off, and administered -a tonic to her niece in the form of a -good-humoured scolding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men always want to make mountains -out of mole-hills, doctors too--they are all -alike!" she ended by saying, after she had -chidden her for not forcing herself to eat and -drink. "You did not sleep! Of course not! -Well, I promise you you shall to-night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She rang for some clear soup and wine, -coaxed Joan to consume both, then, after -herself "seeing her to bed" and administering -a good dose of chloral--a drug she had -in her amateur medical studies found was -in the opinion of certain authorities antidotal -where there was a consumptive tendency--sat -by her until she was asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Joan slept--heavily. Only towards -morning was her slumber visited by dreams. -The one which arrived with the grey dawn, -when the birds began to chirp in the trees -below, was almost a nightmare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She dreamt that she was a prisoner in the -dock, being tried for the wilful murder of -Victor Mercier, alias a'Court. The jury were -filing back into the box amid an awful silence -in the crowded court. She saw each one of -her twelve umpires, scanned each sober, -serious face, with a horrible presage of coming -doom. She heard the sentence--"Are you -all agreed upon your verdict?" and the reply--the -terrible fiat, "Guilty." She saw the -wizened features of the aged judge in his -scarlet panoply assume a grim and solemn -expression, as, donning the three-cornered -"black cap"--a head-covering which gave -him a grotesque, masquerading appearance--he -addressed her. At first she was too dazed -to understand; then, the concluding adjuration -seemed to smite her ears, and stab her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This man loved you, and made you his -wife. A wife should be one to stand by the -man she marries 'for better, for worse'; -which means that when she takes the oath -to do so, she accepts the man's sins with the -man--she becomes one with him, half of -himself. There are wives who have died for -husbands as faulty, perhaps more so, than -your unhappy victim. But you! What have -you done? When you had money at your -command, did you seek him out? Did you -even endeavour to discover what had become -of him? No! Instead, you, as it seems -by the evidence we have heard--incontrovertible -evidence of trustworthy witnesses--were -planning a bigamous marriage and secret -elopement with another man; and when, -just before the consummation of your guilty -plot, your lawful husband appeared, you -were tempted to get rid of the obstacle to its -accomplishment, and to kill him. How you -executed the terrible deed we have heard. -You have had every chance which the goodness -of your fellow creatures, and their -kindness to you has been almost unexampled, -could provide. You have had, I fear, more -mercy than you deserve. For myself, I -cannot hold out any hope that your misguided -and guilty life can possibly be spared." Then -Joan listened in mute agony to the sentence -which condemned her to be "hanged by the -neck till she was dead"; she heard the awful -prayer, uttered with deep feeling by an aged -man to whom Death could not long remain a -stranger, "and may God Almighty have mercy -on your soul!" and all became a blank.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A blank--but not for long. She seemed to -be roused by the tolling of a bell, and looking -around, found herself in the condemned cell. -Some one was strapping her with small -leathern straps which hurt her, and in reply -to her miserable, pathetic appeal, "oh, please -don't," the man dryly said it would be better -for her to be submit to be tightly bound--"it -will be over all the sooner." It? What? -Then she saw serious averted faces--they -belonged to men who were forming into -line--she heard the words, "I am the Resurrection -and the Life," she caught the gleam -of a white surplice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She struggled--fiercely--madly--and awoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Awoke--bathed in sweat from head to -foot--her pulses beating wildly--gasping, -choking--but alive--free--free!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was her dear familiar room, grey -in the early morning light; the bell was -tolling from a neighbouring monastic church--she -was alive--alive! But--but--it -might--come--true--that dream--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh God, it must not!" she exclaimed, -flinging herself out of bed and upon her knees. -"It would not be just! You know, my -God, I did not mean it! You know what he -was! You must not let me be hanged!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xx"><span class="large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Vera Anerley had never acted better -than that night when Joan secretly -visited Victor. Some subtle excitement--born, -perhaps, of an unusually passionate kiss of -her beloved's when she left him alone in the -house to interview the man he had spoken -of--was perhaps the spur which had produced -an access of fervour. Perhaps it was the -approaching separation. Victor had -announced that he would start on a journey in -a few days. She herself was leaving for the -North with the travelling company to which -she was attached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In any case, her disappointed would-be -lover, the young stage-manager, came up to -her with a smile at her final exit--a thing -he had not done since she was betrayed into -pushing him roughly away when he attempted -an embrace--and condescendingly said a few -words of praise, adding a proposal to introduce -"a friend of his," who had been "much pleased."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is the dramatic critic of the -</span><em class="italics">Parthenon</em><span>!" he pompously added, surprised -when Vera knitted her brow and shook her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are very kind, Mr. Howard, but I -must be getting home," she pleaded. What -was the critic of the Parthenon to her in -comparison with half-an-hour's </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with -Victor? she asked herself, as she escaped -into her dressing-room, leaving -"Mr. Howard" anathematizing her "folly," and -vindictively prophesying to himself that, in -spite of her beauty and talent, she would -"never rise an inch" in her profession. -"Mother," as she called Victor's mother, -her late father's second wife, was out with -the mild student, Mr. Dobbs, at the hospital -entertainment. She wanted to be home first!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put away all my things for me, won't -you, Polly?" she said to the daughter of the -veteran actress who took old women parts, -and who travelled with the company as -wardrobe keeper. "Thanks! You are a good -sort!" and with a hasty hug of the girl she -darted out of the dressing-room, along the -passage to the stage-door, and into the cool, -quiet alley.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she ran--into the still glaring, thronged -thoroughfare--it was a neighbourhood whose -inhabitants kept late hours, and "did their -shopping" mostly at night--hailed a loitering -hansom, and was driven to Haythorn Street. -Eagerly glancing out at the house, she had -noticed a tall lady with a swinging gait coming -along. She noticed her as hardly the kind of -feminine visitor frequenting Haythorn Street, -and because she seemed to swerve now and -then. When she stopped and seemed to watch -her alight and pass into the house, Vera -wondered if the gentleman Victor expected--he -had hinted that his visitor was one moving -in higher circles--had brought her with him, -and that she was waiting for him outside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I suppose a gentleman would hardly -bring a lady here at this hour of the night, -still less leave her in the street," was her -second and more lucid thought, as she opened -the hall door with her latch-key, passed in, -and closing it, listened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If there was any one with Victor upstairs, -she knew she would hear voices. But the -stillness was that of an empty house. As she -stood, she heard the same loud, sober ticking of -the kitchen clock which had seemed so almost -terrible to Joan in her awful anxiety. Then -came a plaintive "mew" from within the little -front parlour--hers and her step-mother's. -"Why, Kitty! Who could have shut you -in?" she exclaimed, and she opened the -door. The tortoise-shell cat--an old one -troubled with a perpetually-moulting coat, -ran out as she did so and rubbed itself against -her old winsey "theatre skirt," purring loudly. -"Victor must have shut her in," she mused, -as she went slowly upstairs to find him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Where was he? For the door of Mr. Mackenzie's, -the absent lodger's, sitting-room -stood open--and there was no sound within. -Entering, for the first moment she deemed -the room empty. Then she noted the two -tumblers, one half full of dark liquid, and the -glass jug of water, on the table--and her glance -travelling further, alighted on the motionless -form of her lover on the sofa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep?" she wondered. It seemed -strange--the mercurial, ever wide-awake -Victor--so early in the evening, as he -considered evenings, too! Still, she went -towards him on tiptoe. "I will wake him with -a kiss," she thought, with an incipient glow -of passion as she imagined him rousing from -sleep to clasp her close and fasten those -adored lips on hers with that warm, possessive -kiss of his which she felt was unlike every -other kiss which had been given and taken -since Adam's fresh lips first touched the ripe, -yet innocent mouth of Eve in Paradise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When she reached him she gave a cry of -terror. Something was wrong! He never -looked livid, sunken, his eyes half-open, like that!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seized his hand and gasped with relief; -for it was warm and limp; then she stooped -and kissed his brow. It was damp and cold -as clay after a frost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has fainted!" she wildly thought. -"I must call some one!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flew downstairs, intending to ask help -next door, in spite of a disagreement with its -proprietress after a too intimate acquaintance -of the moulting tortoise-shell with some fowls -kept for laying purposes in the backyard; -but as she opened the hall door, her -stepmother and the thin, amiable Mr. Dobbs -had just come up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Vera! You are home early," -began Mrs. Wright, surprised. -"But--why--child! what is it?" She stopped short, -for Vera's eyes looked madly at her--the girl -was deathly white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Victor is ill, I am going for a doctor," she -gasped, distractedly--her efforts to be calm -and self-possessed only seemed to aggravate -her uncontrollable fear and anguish. "Do -go upstairs and see to him, Mr. Dobbs, won't -you? I think he has fainted. I will be back -directly!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank Heaven they came!" was her -thought, as she ran swiftly up the street and -round the corner to the doctor who always -attended them, the kind, shrewd old -practitioner, Doctor Thompson, and springing up -the steps of the house vigorously rang the -bell. She heard it clang within with that -ominous toll some bells have, and peered -through the coloured glass at the side of the -door. Were they all dead? she asked herself -impatiently, staring in at the empty entry, -with its umbrella-stand and grandfather -clock. What miserable mismanagement! -Once more, although only a few moments had -elapsed since the bell rang, she gave a tug to -the bell-pull. A girl in hat and jacket came -in sight within, put her fingers in her ears, -and hurried to the door, looking disgusted. -It was the housemaid, who had been to the -hospital entertainment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry to have rung twice," exclaimed -Vera, breathlessly, as she opened the door--she -knew the girl. "But--is the doctor in? -No? Oh, what shall I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It isn't the old lady, miss?--I saw her -just now in the Priscilla Ward, a-larfin' fit to -split her sides at the comic singing -gentleman--what? Your brother? The smart young -gent with the black moustache? A fit? -My! Why don't you go round to young -Doctor Hampton, who 'as just set up the -dispensary? He's some sort of relation of -master's, and I've heard master a-talkin' of -his cleverness--round there, miss, two doors -up--red lamp--you can't miss it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She do seem put about," thought the -young woman, as she looked out and watched -Vera flit across the road like a black shadow. -"Fancy takin' on like that about a brother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wildly, telling herself passionately that a -moment's delay might mean death--death -was in his face--Vera tore into the still open -entry of the little house with the red lamp -and gave such a violent knock and ring that -the door opened before it was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A young man stared at her, astonished, as -she clutched at his coat-sleeve, despairingly -adjuring him to come and save her brother's -life, he was in a fit. He felt quite shocked -and concerned at being suddenly assailed -with such a pathetic flow of appealing -language from so young and beautiful a creature.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes--certainly--at once! Only let me -get my hat!" he exclaimed; and after he -had seized upon the head-gear nearest at -hand, which happened to be a cricket-cap, -he also set off running at her side, entered by -the open door of Number Twelve, Haythorn -Street, and sprang up after this agile girl three -steps at a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room was light. He saw two -figures--a woman, kneeling by the couch, a man -with his back to him, who turned as they -came in. He looked pale and scared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am afraid there is nothing to be done, -Doctor," he said, in those low, hushed tones, -which even the most irreverent use in the -presence of the dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young man passed him, and going to -the couch, looked down upon the solemn face -of the dead man. He laid his hand almost -tenderly upon his brow--he listened to the heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take the old lady away, please!" he -said, peremptorily, to Vera. Then, after the -girl had, with some difficulty, coaxed her -step-mother out, he turned to the scared and -guiltless John Dobbs. "How did this -happen?" he sternly inquired.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxi"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After that spontaneous, passionate -prayer to Heaven for mercy, Joan -seemed to awaken to a stronger, intenser life. -A new instinct burst into a fierce clamouring -within her--the primary instinct to -live--live--anywhere, anyhow, at any price--but -to live!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I ought not to die--I did not mean to -kill him!" she wailed. Her first mad notion -was to confess everything from first to last. -There would be an inquest. If she were to -go to the coroner and tell him the whole -story, would he not see justice done?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it would only be my bare word," -she thought, as she sat on the edge of the bed, -wringing her cold hands, shuddering so that -her teeth chattered. "Any one who wanted -to kill some one that stood in their way might -do it, and say it was an accident!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No; that Quixotic idea was untenable. -Dead silence--absolute secrecy--these must -be her defensive armour. No one knew she -had seen Victor Mercier since his re-appearance -in London, and only two persons were aware -of the so-called "love-affair." One was the -school-girl go-between, Jenny Marchant, who -on the only occasion they had happened to -meet, at a charity bazaar, had taken her aside -and implored her never to betray her -complicity in that terrible escapade--she had -read of Victor Mercier's defalcations in the -papers, but had not the remotest idea the -consequence of her folly was that her chum -Joan had bound herself to the "dreadful -creature" by a marriage at the registrar's. -She would never say anything! "And Nana -would rather die than betray me!" thought Joan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No--absolute secrecy--to act as if no such -person as the dead man who had come by his -death through her daring to drug him, existed, -as far as she was concerned--that was the -best, the only course open to her to save -herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--but--I must not do anything wild," -she told herself. "The plan to marry my -beloved and start in his yacht must not be -carried out! That would never do! Would -not people suspect I had some very good -reason for flight--for hiding myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the truth suddenly flashed upon her; -there was now no necessity for concealment! -The man who had bound her to him in law -was dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am a widow!" she murmured, shivering. -"How impossible--extraordinary--yet, -yet--literally true! I never was his -wife--except for a quarter of an hour in the registry -office--what a mockery! And all -this--horror--my misery--his wretched, sudden -death--came out of that--those few words -of an ordinary man's--the signing of our -names in a book!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Would the registrar who married them -come forward?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the idea she sickened. Chill sweat came -upon her brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should he? He has enough to do -without making himself more worrying work," -she told herself. "Besides, he may think -I went abroad with Victor and died there, -if he thinks at all!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No. She must find some way of accounting -for her change of ideas to Lord Vansittart, -she mused, as, hearing Julie outside, she -returned to bed, and when the girl entered, -stretched her arms and yawned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I am much better," she told her, as -Julie made anxious inquiries; and with a -violent effort she contrived to act her part -pretty successfully--to dress and seem as -usual--even to attempt to eat some breakfast. -But this latter was a hard task. The -morning papers had the "Mysterious Death" -among their "sensations," and gave ominous -hints as to "Victor a'Court's" career which -threatened her with a return of that -convulsive shivering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, when she went downstairs, her -aunt and uncle seemed so cheerfully -matter-of-fact--her aunt gave her such very -pronounced hints on the subject of Vansittart--"they -would be quite to themselves, because -she was going out, but she hoped Joan would -insist upon his dining with them that evening -as he disappointed them last night," etc.--that -she began to feel as if the tragedy in her -young, unfortunate life were unreal--dream-like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun shone warmly upon the brilliant -bloom of the flowers in her balcony. A canary -sang joyously from its cage outside the -window of the next house. The lively rattle of -carts, the smooth roll of carriages, the shrill -voices of passing children--all meant life--life! -And she was greedy, thirsty for life--she--who -a few hours ago had done a fellow-creature to death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All is not--quite--lost," she mused, as -she leant her tired head on her hands--she -had seated herself at her writing-table, and -was pretending to be busy with her -correspondence. "I can do nothing--any more--for -poor, cruel Victor--may God be merciful -to him! But he has relatives--this actress -sister--he never said a word of her to me, -I may hope he never said a word of me to her. -I may be able to make her life very different--after -all this is over and forgotten--hers and -any other relatives of his--and I will! I -will not spend one single day without doing -something to tend to some comfort or -advantage for them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was still trying to plan her announcement -of her changed wishes to Vansittart, so -as not to excite the faintest suspicion in his -mind that anything had occurred to alter her -ideas between her last meeting and this, when -she heard voices outside--the groom of the -chambers announced "Lord Vansittart"--and -he precipitately entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He advanced, a little pale and anxious-looking, -but so handsome, such a tower of -strength, such embodied manhood at its -noblest, that suddenly she felt utterly -overwhelmed, submerged--she tottered gasping -into his arms, and clung to him as madly -as one drowning cleaves to his rescuer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh--it is you--" she deliriously stammered. -"Don't--don't leave me--oh--what -am I saying? Are we both--alive? Is it real?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her delirious collapse she would not let -him kiss her lips. First she hid her face in his -coat, then she kissed it--wildly, almost -passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My poor, sweet darling; be calm--it is -all right--I will take care of you!" he said, -tenderly, brokenly. To see her thus almost -unnerved him--he was losing command of -his voice--two great cold tears stood in his -eyes, then ran down and lay glistening on -her golden hair. "Come, my dearest love! -Something has upset you, but never mind; -I promise you it shall not happen again--I -will stand between you and trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped short, horrified--for she burst -into a wild peal of laughter. She struggled -to subdue it by hiding her head upon his arm. -He gazed down at her pretty golden head, -speechless with mingled feelings. Once more -the ugly idea crept up unbidden within -him--that Joan was "going mad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No! You are right there!" she cried -her laughter subdued, glancing up almost -defiantly into his face. "What--ever--does -happen again? Did you not talk of the past -being irrevocable, irrecoverable? It is! The -present is bad enough, is it not? That I -should be a hysterical fool like this--all -because of a dream! At least I think my -headache made me delirious all night. I am -not good enough for you, dear. You must -give up all idea of marrying me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed tenderly at him with those dark -eyes soft with the tears brought by that -hysterical outburst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, of course!" he ironically said. -"I am to give up all chance of happiness -because you are not one of those Amazons I -so cordially detest! Come, darling--I can -see that London life is utterly and entirely -disagreeing with you!" He seated himself -on a sofa and drew her gently down beside -him. "That fact reconciles me to taking -you away, do you know--so it is the silver -lining to the only cloud that is troubling my -horizon!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did not like that plan of mine? I -am--thankful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she ejaculated this with evident truth, -Vansittart stared at her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not that, darling! I am ready to do -anything----" he began, alarmed lest she had -seized upon a loop-hole for escape. But she -interrupted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had a dream last night," she began, -slowly, striving for self-possession--the very -mention of that awful vision unnerved her. -"You know--what is on my mind--that I -helped to ruin the life of a friend by helping -her to marry a bad man. Well! I dreamt--that -she came--to awful--grief! And the -dream was so vivid that I take it as a warning. -I do not wish to carry out our plan, dearest. -If you care to marry me, let us be married -openly, before the world!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you really mean it?" He grasped -her hands and kissed them. He gazed at her -with a face beaming, transfigured with joy. -"Thank God, you do! Oh, my darling, my -darling--I would have married you anywhere, -anyhow, I would even have kept our marriage -secret till the crack of doom if you had wanted -to--but I hated doing it. I hated stealing -you like a thief, instead of marrying you -proudly, honourably, glorying in it, before -God and all his creatures! You have lifted -such a weight from my heart that I hardly -know where I am, or what I am about!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For awhile, as Joan sat, her lover's arm -around her, all about them so bright--the -pretty boudoir, decked with dainty gifts of -her uncle's and aunt's, gay with flowers and -sunshine--she was infected by his radiant -happiness. A faint hope stole timidly up in -her crushed heart--a vague idea of -"misadventure"--"the visitation of God"--as the -real cause of Victor Mercier's death, she only -the unhappy instrument. The idea reigned--it -was the melody to the accompaniment of -his joyous talk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then her uncle came in, and without ado -Vansittart asked his blessing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Thomas had hardly kissed and -congratulated his niece, beaming upon her in his -huge satisfaction, when Lady Thorne entered, -and stopping short, placidly surveyed the trio.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am not surprised," she answered, -in a superior tone, to her husband's inquiry, -after he had announced the engagement. "Or -at least, if I am, it is because you two young -people have taken so long to make up your -minds. I never saw two people so fitted for -each other."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an air of subdued gaiety about the -four at the luncheon table. Joan held her -thoughts and emotions in check with a -tremendous effort of will. In the afternoon the -lovers rode out into the country, and she -enjoyed an almost wild ride. She had an -idea that bodily fatigue might weaken her -power of thought. If only she could tire -herself into physical exhaustion, she fancied -she might forget. Oh! only to ignore, to -be able to ignore the past--for a few brief -hours!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vansittart was too madly in love to take -exception to any desire or even whim of his -darling's. He cantered and galloped, raced -and tore at her side, although at last his -favourite horse was reeking with sweat, and -he told himself that he had not felt so "pumped -out" for a long while. The fact that Joan -did not seem to feel fatigue hardly reassured -him. He determined to ask Sir Thomas to -influence her to consent to an early marriage, -that he might take her on a sea voyage. -After they had dined, a pleasant </span><em class="italics">partie -quarrée</em><span>, and he and his future uncle-in-law -were alone, he broached the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope, Sir Thomas, you will not think me -impatient if I suggest that there should not -be a prolonged engagement," he began, -taking the bull by the horns almost as soon -as they had lighted up and their first glass -of Mouton was still untasted before them. -"But, to tell you the truth, I am not -happy about my loved one's health, and I -fancy that some yachting--say in or about -Norway--might brace her a little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Great wits jump, they say! My dear boy, -you have almost taken the very words out of -my mouth!" replied Sir Thomas, confidentially. -"Honestly, I have been uneasy about -Joan for a long time. I told you months ago -about the family tendency to phthisis! -Well, I am not exactly anxious about her -lungs, the medical men say they are perfectly -sound, so far. But tubercular disease has -other ways of showing itself, and there is a -feverishness, a tendency almost amounting -to delirium about the dear girl, which at times -makes me uneasy. I intended to suggest a -speedy marriage, and a sea voyage, knowing -of your delightful yacht. I repeat, you have -taken the words out of my mouth!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan was winding wool for Lady Thorne's -work for her special </span><em class="italics">protégés</em><span>, the "deep sea -fishermen"--winding it with an almost fiery -energy, as the two conspirators entered the -drawing-room. Her eyes met Vansittart's -with the old hunted, desperate look--his -heart sank as he felt how impotent and futile -his efforts to balance the disturbing influence, -whatever it was, had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Thomas had determined to "strike the -iron while it was hot." So, as soon as coffee -had been served, he broached the subject of -an almost immediate marriage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear, it is the only thing to be done!" -exclaimed his wife emphatically. "It ought -to be a function, Joan's marriage! And if -it is not as soon as I can arrange matters, it -will have to be postponed till next season, -when every one will be sick and tired of the -subject. You are our only chick and child, -Joan, and I will have you married properly, -with </span><em class="italics">éclat</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan made no objection. She gave her -lover one tender, confiding glance, then -resumed her wool-winding, and allowed her -elders to settle her affairs for her. Perhaps, -she thought, when she was left alone with -the awful facts of her life in her own -room--perhaps she might learn to live in something -less akin to utter and complete despair than -her present humour, when she was alone with -Vansittart, skimming the ocean in his yacht.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The necessary shopping and dressmaker-interviewing, -too, might distract her from -the terrible, gnawing anxiety of the coming -inquest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Each morning and evening the papers had -some little paragraph about the affair. They -hinted at the identity of "Victor a'Court" -being a disputed one. But until the day -fixed for the inquest there had been no definite -allusion in print.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The night before the inquest was one of -feverish anxiety for Joan. "If only I were -not so strong--if only some dreadful illness -would attack me!" she told herself, as the -hours lagged and dragged. She could not -face her world while that awful inquiry which -might mean a shameful death to her was -going forward; yet she dared not shut herself -into her room to await the evening papers -as she best could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her aunt was, fortunately for Joan, a -"little out of sorts," as she herself termed it. -So, her uncle being out--and having, indeed, -almost entirely relaxed his barely-veiled -supervision of her doings now that in three weeks -time she would be Lady Vansittart and freed -from his jurisdiction for always, she donned -a hat and walking dress and wandered out, -unseen--for the hall was empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Why she was attracted towards the scene -of her "accidental crime"--that was her name -for her administration of the drugged brandy -to Victor Mercier--she could not imagine. -But she was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had intended to stroll about in the -leafy seclusion of Kensington Gardens, dodging -her kind. But no sooner was she in the Park -than she wandered almost unconsciously -nearer and nearer to the place where she had -done her former lover to death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oh, for some cool, dark refuge in which -to grovel and hide during the awful hours of -dreadful suspense! The light of day seemed -too garish--every cheerful sound made her -shrink and wince--every voice seemed to -thrill each overstrung nerve in her aching body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she was pausing, miserably, under a -tree, stopping her ears that she might not -hear the glad voices and laughter of some -children gaily at play, she happened to glance -skyward where the towers of the great -cathedral stood, solemn and noble, against -the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go in there and wait!" she told -herself. She felt unable to return home and -face the evening papers in her uncle's house. -She would wait for them there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She almost fled along, across the road, -into the cathedral, as a guilty, hunted creature -seeking sanctuary. She halted when she -had closed the door. There was a calm, a -rest, in the sacred fane which was as the -presence of the Creator Himself. She slunk -into a corner, and crouching down, clung for -support to the rail of the bench in front of -her and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Waited, half-dazed and stupified, hardly -knowing where she was, mind and brain -confused as if too paralysed to think, to act. -Hour after hour passed. Afternoon service -proceeded in the choir. Almost grovelling -in her corner, she listened. She could not -pray--she was past that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as there was a movement of the -congregation to the doors, she forced herself -to rise and pass out among them. For she -knew the evening papers would be out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She hurried from the Abbey into the street, -bought one from the first urchin she met -shouting "Special Edeetion!" fled across -one street and along another, into the Park. -There she found an empty bench, and, well -hidden from passers-by by a clump of shrubs, -opened her paper with trembling fingers. -Yes! There it was!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">"INQUEST THIS DAY. STRANGE REVELATIONS."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The paragraphs seemed to dance before -her eyes. Joan's mind at first refused -to understand. Then, as she read, she feared -her brain was playing her false.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Victor a'Court was identified by several -witnesses--one a detective, who had failed -to track him when he was "wanted" four -years ago for embezzling monies belonging -to his firm--as Victor Mercier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His old mother was called, but was in so -pitiable a state that his identity was finally -established by the evidence of her -step-daughter, Vera "Anerley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was described as pale, but perfectly -self-possessed. She told the coroner's court -how Victor Mercier's father died in obscurity -some years before her own father, a widower, -met Madame Mercier and married her. She -and Victor, who was ten years at least her -senior, had called each other brother and -sister, albeit not related. She knew nothing -of the particulars of the charge brought -against him some years ago, except that the -firm were subsequently bankrupt. She knew -he had "got on" abroad, but how, or why, -he had not exactly said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then two medical men--one the aged -practitioner who attended the family, -Dr. Thompson, the other the young doctor, his -nephew--testified to the death, and gave an -account of the </span><em class="italics">post-mortem</em><span> examination they -had made by the coroner's order. The -sudden death, which at first had had the -appearance of suicide, especially as some -brandy in a tumbler had proved, on analysis, -to contain a quantity of morphia--was -actually due to failure of the heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cross-examination elicited from both -medical men that there was not much actual -disease. The heart was not in good -condition--it could never have acted strongly--and -failure might have happened, they -considered, at any time, after undue strain, or -shock, or even indiscretion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was the dose found in the stomach sufficient -to cause death? asked the foreman of -the jury. The reply was--and Joan read it -feverishly again and again--not, perhaps, in -a healthy person who was addicted to -narcotics. Those who were accustomed to other -sedatives would possibly escape being -poisoned by the amount of morphia Victor -Mercier seemed likely to have swallowed. -But with a heart like his death might certainly -ensue were the person unaccustomed to -narcotics and the like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the medical student, who had returned -from settling his dead mother's affairs to find -his "diggings" the scene of a recent tragedy, -testified to the amount and kind of morphia -he had left in a bottle among the rest of his -drugs. Probably two-thirds of the half-bottle -had been accounted for by the drugged brandy -left in a tumbler, and by the contents of the -stomach. He identified the empty bottle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here a juror asked if the bottle from which -the brandy had been taken were in court?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not. No bottle had been found -in the cupboard or anywhere in the -sitting-room, although several empty brandy bottles -were in a corner of the adjoining bedroom, -where Victor Mercier was temporarily -sleeping. The student lodger vigorously disowned -these, upon which the coroner asked the aged -doctor whether a man whose heart was in -the condition of Victor Mercier's would be -tempted to resort to alcohol, and having -received a decided reply in the affirmative, -the subject was dropped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Dobbs, the student who had escorted -Victor Mercier's mother to the hospital -entertainment, testified to finding Victor Mercier -dead, as far as he could judge; then Vera -gave an account of how she found him, and -asked to be allowed to make a statement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She told the Court that to her knowledge -Victor Mercier had secretly married a lady, -his senior, wealthy, of good position, who -had behaved shamefully when he was under -a cloud some years previously: that he had -intended and hoped to procure a divorce, -and that a person was expected to call upon -him that night--the night he died--whose -evidence would go far to assist him in his -desire. "I expected the person would be -still with him," she added--"and--I found -him--dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The significant utterance of her statement -appeared to have brought about a perfect -storm of questioning. But, giving an -absolute denial to any further knowledge of the -affair, she adhered firmly to what she had -said, and nothing further could be elicited -from her, except the somewhat defiant reply -to a suggestion of the foreman of the jury -that Victor Mercier might have had some -motive in wishing to have a divorce instead -of claiming conjugal rights. "Yes. We--he -and I--were engaged to be married, as soon -as he could get rid of her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That speech, apparently, brought matters -to a speedy conclusion. The Coroner placed -the "ambiguous affair" before the jury -somewhat diffidently. Their verdict was, -perhaps in consequence, hardly a decisive -one. They disagreed. While the majority -wished to adopt the coroner's hint that -"death by misadventure" might be a safe -view to take, and that it would be easy for -investigations to be proceeded with by other -authorities, should those authorities feel -inclined to dissatisfaction, there were some -dissentients who suspected possible foul play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>These were, however, sufficiently in the -minority for a verdict of "death by -misadventure" to be returned, and when Joan -understood that by this she was still -unsuspected by man of that which God alone yet -knew she had done, the sudden shock of joy -was as bad to bear as her agony when she -read that Victor Mercier was dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not to be hanged, I am not to be -shamed before the world--God is just--He -is merciful--He has heard my prayer!" she -frantically told herself, as in the folly of -ecstasy she clasped and kissed the paper, -and held it to her heart. Was the world all -sunshine, all joy? What was the matter? she -wondered. It was as if she had been -groping through some dark, noisome tunnel, -holding by the dark walls, expecting every -moment that some horror would rush upon -and destroy her miserable, hopeless -being--and--without even a warning ray of -light--she had suddenly emerged into a beautiful -world--ancient, yet new--bathed in glorious -sunshine, awake and alive with joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard, almost with wonder, that the -birds were carolling, that gay voices and -laughter, mingled with the ripple of the -wavelets a few yards away, where little -children were screaming as they fed the -quacking ducks. Little children! Some -day she might be a mother, and in tending -innocent babes she might forget the horror -of her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had no pity for the cruel man whom -she saw now, first, in his true light, as -perjurer, liar, thief--who had stolen her young -affections out of mere wantonness, so it -seemed to her, when he really loved this -"Vera Anerley," who was supposedly his -sister. He had lied to her all through--he -was a mere nobody--he meant to climb to a -position by her wealth: he had lied about -his legal tie to her, this Vera--this love of his. -What had he meant to do? How could he -divorce her?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The answer to her own question was as a -blow, so sharp, so cruel. She closed her eyes -faint and sick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He knew about </span><em class="italics">us</em><span>," she thought. "He -said--'your lover, Lord Vansittart.' He -meant to get a divorce--because of him. -He would have sworn to lies, very likely. -He would have got 'damages'--a decree--and -after he had disgraced me for ever, -would have made that girl his wife! Oh--his -death has been a mercy to every one--may -God grant it has been a mercy to him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as she was equal to the effort of -walking--for she felt unsteady and giddy -even then--she left the newspaper on the -seat on which she had sat to read her fate, -and making her way out of the Park, took a -cab home, and entered without, she believed, -being unduly observed. She found that her -uncle had lunched at his club, and her aunt -was in her room, so, joining Lady Thorne in -her boudoir, where she was lying comfortably -tucked up on a sofa, she excused her absence -very casually. She had been detained -shopping, had lunched out, had attended -service in the Abbey. Lady Thorne smiled -indulgently. "Of course, of course, my -dear!" she interrupted. "But I am glad -you are in. Violette has sent home one of -your </span><em class="italics">trousseau</em><span> evening frocks. It is a poet's -dream--pink embroidered roses, and a -bouquet of pink roses has come from the -Duchess with a little note--they decorate -with roses to-night in your honour! I want -you to wear that frock. It would make such -a nice paragraph in the society papers, and -encourage Violette to exert her utmost with -the rest of the wedding order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan went upstairs, wondering what it -meant--this sudden flow of sunshine. As -she inspected the dress--an exquisite -</span><em class="italics">confection</em><span> of pale pink and white shot tissue, -embroidered with clusters of La France roses -with so cunning a hand that the blossoms -looked almost real--she wondered what she -would have felt, arraying herself in that gala -attire, yesterday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dark, darkest of dark nights, seems -over, thank Heaven!" she told herself as -she went down later on, radiant, to the -drawing-room to receive her lover. As she opened -the door, she saw him standing as if lost in -anxious thought. He sprang towards her -with a puzzled, astounded gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How lovely you look! But--but--oh, -darling, how thankful I am to see you look -almost happy for once!" he passionately -exclaimed, as he kissed her--hands, brow, -lips--with the tender reverence which made -her almost worship him in return. "But--oh, -something must have happened to please -you! Tell me, Joan, do not let us have any -secrets from each other!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You shall know to-night--at the dance," -she said. The dance was given by the -Duchess of Arran.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxiv"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>If Joan had succeeded in fascinating Lord -Vansittart until his passion dominated him -to the extinction of all his ordinary interests -in life, while she was mysteriously enwrapped -in an unaccountable gloom--a gloom which -hid her natural charms, her bright, ready -wit, her spontaneity, her sympathetic -responses to the moods of others, as a thick -mist hides a beautiful landscape--in her -new gaiety and sudden joyousness she simply -intoxicated him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he sat opposite her at dinner, he -gazed fatuously at her in her pink glory, -her sweet face shining above the roseate robe -as the morning star above the sunrise-tinted -clouds--and wondered at the magnificence -of the fate dealt out to him by fortune. -When they were driving to Arran House--Sir -Thomas by his betrothed, and he squeezing -in his long figure on the opposite seat--he -felt that to sit at her feet and worship her -was more happiness than he deserved. What -of being her husband? Of possessing this -delightful being for his very own--half of -himself?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His mood, half deprecatory, half triumphant, -but wholly joyful, seemed reflected -in the brilliant atmosphere of Arran House, -as he followed Sir Thomas, who had Joan -on his arm, through the hall--where heavy -rose-garlands wreathed the pillars, casting -their rich, luscious perfume profusely upon -the air--up the rose-decorated staircase to -the draped entrance to the ballroom, where -the duchess stood, a picture in rose moire -and old point lace, the kindly little duke at -her elbow, receiving her guests, but -detaining the newly-betrothed for a few -warmly-spoken words of congratulation. The -ballroom floor was already sprinkled with -couples dancing the second valse of the -programme.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now we belong to each other publicly as -well as in private, you must dance all, or -nearly all, your dances with me," said -Vansittart, in tones of suppressed emotion, as he -gazed at her white throat, encircled with his -first gift--a necklet of topaz and pearls with -</span><em class="italics">parure en suite</em><span>; then, with a longing, searching -look into her eyes. Half fearful lest the -old enigmatic horror should still be lurking -there, his heart gave a throb of delight as -those sweet brown orbs gazed innocently, -fearlessly, yet with a passionate abandon into his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us join the others--shall we?" he -said. She nodded slightly--a trick of -hers--and encircling her slight waist with his -arm, he made one of the slowly gyrating -throng.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To Joan that dance was like a new, -delicious dream. To feel the one she loved as -she had never imagined it was in her to love, -near her, was in itself an abiding joy. But -to have lost the awful burden--her secret -link to another--to be relieved of the weight -of fear lest she should really be a criminal--that, -mingled with the delight of being the -betrothed bride of her beloved, was in itself -an earthly heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The valse over, they betook themselves to -a couple of chairs placed invitingly under a -big palm. But Vansittart yearned to be -alone with her; or, at least, where they -could talk unobserved. In spite of his -pervading joy, there was just one discordant -note sounding in his mind; there was one -gleam of anxiety anent the cause of the -almost miraculous change in Joan's mood, from -darkest night to sunlit noonday.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a pretty idea of the duchess, was -it not, darling, to decorate with roses in our -honour?" he said caressingly, as he took -her bouquet and inhaled its delicate -sweetness. "The flower of love! But--well, of -course you know the story of the rose? It -seems to me that that also may not be -without its meaning in our case. It was through a -bad member of my sex, was it not, that you -had so much to endure? Why, dearest, -forgive me for alluding to it. I thought you -would not mind!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan had started a little--as a sensitive -horse at the unexpected touch of its rider's -heel. It was only for a moment; she -recovered herself immediately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What story? I don't know of any! -Tell me," she replied, annoyed with herself -at being so "morbidly impressionable." Still, -any allusion to her secret stung her to the -quick. It disappointed her. She had wanted -to bury her dead at once and for ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I hardly like alluding to your -confidences to me," he began, a little taken aback -by her sudden change of humour. "The -story is about a girl named Zillah--a -Bethlehemite--whose would-be lover rejected, gave -out that she was possessed, and had her -condemned to be burnt. But the stake -blossomed into roses! I take that to mean that -no real trouble can come to one who is pure -and good by the machinations of any vile -man, however base----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't talk about it here!" she -exclaimed, inwardly writhing. "Besides, I don't -want ever to allude to--to--that affair of my -poor friend's marriage again. It is not -necessary. She has escaped from her troubles. -It is that which has made me so happy. Do -you understand? I cannot tell you how it -has happened. You must trust me so far. -But it is all over. I have only one, one boon -to crave of you--that you will never, never -again remind me of it. Can you do that much -for your future wife? If you do keep raking -up my past troubles, we shall not be happy. -I promise you that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dearest, I would sacrifice much -rather than ever say one word to annoy you, -give you pain," he began, somewhat hurt -and mystified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," she exclaimed, and once more -she beamed upon him. A brilliant smile -beautified a face which was too flushed for -health; sudden pallor at the tale of the rose -was succeeded by a burning glow. "And -now, there they are, beginning another -dance. I want to dance. I want to live; to -enjoy life. Can't you imagine it? For ever -so long I have been thinking myself a perfect -wretch, not eligible, like other people, for the -ordinary joys of life; and now that I find out -I am not, that no innocent person has -suffered for my absurd and ridiculous folly, -I want to be happy. Oh! let me be, if only -for to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Joan, that is hardly just, not to know -that there is only one thing in this world I -really wish for, your happiness," he said, -with deep feeling. "However, do not let -us have the faintest shadow between us, -when we are on the eve of belonging to each -other for ever--pray don't! Darling, I will -be careful for the future. Do you forgive me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't talk nonsense," she cried, with a -little laugh which sounded so gay and -careless that he led her to join the dancers -somewhat reassured. As they danced onward, -round and round the duke's beautiful -ballroom, the electric light shining through the -softly-tinted Bohemian glass upon the lavish -decorations of roses of all shades, from pure -white to the deepest crimson, they both -almost recovered their equanimity. The deep, -yearning love in each young heart was -sufficiently sun-like to dispel all mists and -shadows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To both the evening speedily became one -of unmixed delight. Once or twice they had -temporarily parted and taken other -partners "for the look of the thing." "Hating -your dancing with another fellow as I do, I -would rather that, than that the frivols -among them should laugh at us," he told -her. "You know, dearest, to be in love as -we are is terribly out of date."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they reluctantly separated for a while, -to enjoy each other's proximity with a -more subtle ecstasy afterwards. The last -dance before supper Vansittart had retained -for himself. "It is more than flesh and -blood can do to give up that; besides, it is -not expected of me, after the paragraphs in -the papers," he said. So, after a delightful -quarter of an hour's gyration to the -charming melody of the "Erste Geliebte" -waltz, he escorted Joan to the supper room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was crowded. As Vansittart led his -beautiful betrothed through the room, her -pink train rustling, the jewels on her fair -neck gleaming, all eyes turned towards them -as they passed. His head held proudly -high, he felt rather than saw that they were -the object of general notice. Meanwhile, -every one of the small round supper tables, -laid either for two or four persons, seemed -appropriated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan had been scanning the crowd about -the tables, feeling an unpleasantly reminiscent -thrill as she saw the ducal servitors in -their picturesque black uniform and powder; -and remembering that horrible shock--her -encountering Victor Mercier in that garb, -in that sudden and cruel way--she was -somewhat startled by meeting the malevolent, -searching gaze of a small, thin man in -evening dress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surely it was the duke's valet--that man -with the steel-blue eyes which seemed to flash -white fire as they met hers? Yes, he was -approaching them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon, milord, but there is a table in the -conservatory, if you would like it," he said. -"It is cooler there, and I will tell some one -to attend to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks, Paul," said Lord Vansittart -genially, and he led Joan through the room -after their guide, following him into the -conservatory, where, among the roses, fuchsias, -and orchids brought from the ducal houses, -a tiny table was laid for two persons. "You -are very kind. But you are not looking well. -How is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mere nothing, milord," said Paul, -lightly. "And now, I will see to the supper -for you and mademoiselle. But Monsieur -le Duc wishes a word with you. He sent me -to say it. You would find him in the hall, -I think, waiting for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will excuse me a minute, darling?" -Vansittart, released with a smile by Joan, -left her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Left her--with the valet, Paul Naz! Joan -wondered to see the man, with a set, stern -face she did not like at all, moving the knives, -forks and glasses about upon the table in a -foolish, aimless fashion. She marvelled still -more when he stood up and faced her suddenly, -an ominous gleam in his brilliant, pale eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A word, mademoiselle," he began -solemnly, his hands clenching themselves so -they hung pendant at his sides. "I wish to -speak to you of my poor murdered friend, -Victor Mercier."</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 63%" id="figure-30"> -<img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""'I wish to speak to you of my poor murdered friend.'" A Woman Martyr. Page 216" src="images/img-216.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"'I wish to speak to you of my poor murdered friend.'" </span><em class="italics">A Woman Martyr</em><span class="italics">. </span><em class="italics">Page 216</em></div> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxv"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>If the duke's pale, wrathful valet had -suddenly changed into the grinning -skeleton which had seemed to Joan to mock -and gird at her that night when she replaced -the poison bottle in the cupboard after -pouring its contents into Victor Mercier's brandy, -she could hardly have shrunk back more -absolutely terror-stricken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first she gazed, speechless, at Paul -Naz's set, ghastly face, with those pale blue -eyes flashing menace and scorn. Then that -up-leaping instinct within her to defend -herself came to her rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you mad, sir, to speak to me like -this?" she haughtily said. "Leave me. If -you presume to insult me, I will call for help."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a moment her daring, her defiance, -staggered Paul. Meanwhile, the sudden -pallor of her beautiful features, the agony in -her dark eyes, had strengthened his gradually -formed, but confident, belief that Victor -Mercier had been merely shielding a woman -when he spoke of the Thornes owing money -to his late father, and that he and Joan were -either lovers, or had been so. Men did not -dress up as men-servants to meet a woman -who merely had some cash to repay. Then, -he had seen other symptoms in Victor. He -believed, when he had read the account of -the inquest, that either Victor held Joan's -promise of marriage, or that she was his -secret and abandoned wife. To the story -Victor had told Vera he attached but little -significance. Men said such things sometimes -to girls to cover unpalatable facts they -need not be told.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, an interior conviction seemed to -assert itself. "This is the woman," cried -his soul. He gazed steadily at Joan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mademoiselle, I am sorry to speak like -this, but I know you knew my poor -murdered friend well," he began in a low tone. -"God forgive me if I misjudge you! But I -feel you have been cruel to him. Time will -show. Meanwhile, I wish to say to you that -I will do nothing against you if you do not -bring this noble gentleman I hear you are to -marry to shame. I leave justice to the -Creator, who invented it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With which he made her a slight bow, -turned, and stalked out of the conservatory. -She sank into a seat breathless, and stared -vacantly at the place where he had stood, for -she seemed to see that white, scornful face -with the pale blue eyes which to her excited -fancy had been ablaze with lurid fire, still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All was over, then! The mirage of -happiness was a mockery. She was once more -plunged, steeped, in the atmosphere of crime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see," she told herself, in her mental -writhings under this new scorch of pain. -"He is a Frenchman; he is--was--Victor's -accomplice, his spy. He told Victor of -Vansittart. He has been watching me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her first insane idea was to tell the duke -that his trusted servant was the -miserable spy of unscrupulous wretches. Second -thoughts said "madness! Keep it to -yourself. What can the man do? He knows -nothing of your visit to Hay thorn Street. -If you say, or suggest, he is a spy, you arouse -suspicions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Upon these second thoughts she acted. -She controlled her emotions, summoning all -her force, her self-possession, to her aid. -There was a long mirror in the corner. She -composed her features and rubbed her cheeks -and lips before it, regaining a semblance of -composure and ordinary appearance only -just in time, for as she leant back in her -chair slowly fanning herself Vansittart came -in, looking grave, troubled, although he -smiled as their eyes met. Had </span><em class="italics">he</em><span> seen or -heard anything peculiar?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it a breach of confidence to ask what -his Grace wanted you for?" she asked, -assuming a sprightly manner which shocked -her even as she did so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," he said, a little abruptly; -"something about a wedding present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a manservant entered with a tray of -champagne and the menu card, and until -she had been revived by the food she forced -herself to eat, and the champagne Vansittart -insisted upon her drinking, she asked no -more. But, in her strained state, her lover's -pre-occupation was unbearable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Desperate, she determined to know the -worst. "Tell me," she began, leaning her fair -elbow on the table and looking pleadingly -into his face with those bewilderingly -beautiful eyes. "You know you yourself -proposed we should share our secrets. And, -from your manner, I know--I am positive--the -duke said something more than about -a wedding present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he did, it was nothing of any -consequence," he fondly returned, gazing -tenderly at the lovely face which was his whole -world. "I would tell you at once, only you -are such a sweet, innocent, sensitive darling, -so utterly unsophisticated, unused to this -rough planet and its still rougher -inhabitants--you would make a mountain of what -is far less than a mole-hill in one's way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it?' I would rather, really I -would, know." She gave him a coaxing glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it is this," he replied, hardly. -"Very little to annoy one. Only I am so -absurdly vulnerable, that the merest breath -which affects the subject of our marriage -seems to shrivel me up. It is those -wretched clubs; at least, the miserable gossip -which the riffraff of the clubs seem to batten -and fatten upon, drivelling, disappointed, -soured units of humanity that they are! -They seem to be prognosticating that our -wedding will not 'take place,' because I have -a secret wife somewhere, who is likely to turn -up. Do you suspect me, darling?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her joyous laugh, born of infinite relief, -almost startled him. When he reached his -bachelor domain that night, and recalled the -events of the evening, the sweetest delight -of all was to remember how his beautiful -darling took his hands, and with eyes -brimming with love, drew him to her and nestled -in his arms as some faithful dove might have -flown confidently to his shoulder. That -ensuing brief--all too brief--half hour, when, -by their world seemingly forgot, and -certainly their world forgetting, they -interchanged tender words and still tenderer -embraces, seemed to his passion-stricken -nature to have so riveted them to each other -that the very machinations of hell itself bid -fair to be powerless to part them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her absolute innocence makes her so -immeasurably sweeter than all the other -women," he told himself, as he stalked about -his rooms in a hyper-ecstatic mood. "It is -that which makes her so unsuspicious, so -trusting. Now, if I had told something of -what the duke said to me to an ordinary -woman, she would have suspected me of -goodness knows what in the past. She might -have concealed it, but I should have known -that she did. I believe it is my darling's -being so 'unspotted from the world' which -influenced me to love her as I do. Oh, may -I be worthy of being her guardian; for my -past is not the fair, white, unsullied page -that hers is! No man's can be."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When the young doctor she had fetched -in her frantic fear the night of Mercier's -death, after finding Victor insensible upon -the sofa, came to Vera in the little sitting -room where she was kneeling at her poor -trembling old stepmother's side and telling -her with the assurance of desperation that -Victor must, would, soon be better--why -should he not be? He had never been -subject to fits. He was so well-knit, so strong, -so athletic--she gave the intruder an -imperious gesture, and, springing up, led him -out of the room, and, closing the door, leant -against the lintel, and gazed at him with -such wild agony that he flinched, alarmed. -She looked uncanny, and at such a crisis it -was disturbing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know. He is dead!" she resolutely -said. "But, for God's sake, have mercy -on his poor old mother. He is all she has -in life. There will be an inquest? So much -the better. Now go in to her, and tell her -he is very ill, and must be left to you and me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young practitioner demurred. His -private opinion was that people ought to -"face their fate." He was fresh from the -hospitals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was something witchlike about -this girl. She commanded the wistful, -shivering John Dobbs, a mild specimen -indeed of the genus medico, to remain and -solace her stepmother with as many white -lies as he could generate at the moment; -then, over-riding the objections of old Doctor -Thompson, who, returning home and hearing -of her wild condition from his house-maid, -had proceeded to Haythorn Street at once, -she insisted on accompanying them into the -room where the dead man lay with that -calm, sphinx-like smile upon his handsome -lips, and remaining there until Doctor -Thompson actually took her by the shoulder -and, turning her out, locked the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, like some faithful dog, she remained -outside. She watched them seal up the -room in a dead silence. After tenderly -assisting her stepmother to bed, weaving -fictions the while--"Victor was in bed and -asleep, the doctors had gone, and their one -direction was he should not be disturbed; -his very existence depended upon his being -kept quiet," etc.--she returned to her post, -and spent the night crouched upon the -landing, her cheek against the sealed door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My heart is dead; my life went with -his," she told herself. "What there -remains of me is left to find the woman who -murdered him, and to bring her to justice."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvi"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Old Doctor Thompson sat up in his -study, smoking and listening to his -nephew's theories anent Victor Mercier's -death, while Vera, sleepless in her anguish, -remained sifting her suspicions throughout -that dismal night, limply leaning up against -the sealed door which so cruelly barred her -out from that silent room where her beloved -lay on the sofa in the mystic sleep of death. -"I have to revenge his murder--for he has -been drugged--poisoned--I could swear it!" -she told herself, over and over again. "That -woman I saw--tall, well-dressed--stalking -off--and staggering--she is the one who has -killed him! It is she I must find--God help me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How impotent she felt, when all Mercier's -belongings were under lock, key, and seal!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she had enough to occupy her. The -unhappy old mother was in a helpless state -of grief--she alone had to "do for the -household," since they kept no regular servant. -Then, when she sent in her resignation, her -admirer, the stage manager, Mr. Howard, -urged the proprietors of the touring company -to refuse to accept it. She had to go off and -almost beg release upon her knees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came the day of the inquest, and her -statement; the grudgingly admitted verdict, -and the consequent release from endurance -of the worst of the bondage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The purses of gold were all that they found -which pointed to any one's visit the night of -Mercier's death; and even Vera, despite her -intense anxiety to find a clue which would -bring her face to face with the wife he had -told her of, the "hag," the "cat," whom he -had spoken of so vindictively as the only -barrier between them, could but think that -the money might have been locked up in his -desk since his return. He had spoken of -possessing ample means for the immediate -present, and had spent lavishly upon her of late.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They searched high and low, the poor -mother clinging to the relics of the only son -whose heir she was, as she had few relatives -belonging to her, and his father, her first, -cruel spouse, had no kith and kin that he had -cared to acknowledge. But while they found -more money--neither in boxes, nor chests of -drawers, or pockets, did they come across any -traces bearing upon the part of his life they -knew nothing about. The letters and papers -in his desk and trunk related to past business -abroad, alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The funeral was a plain, but good one. It -was a wet, gloomy day when the hearse -bearing the brown oaken coffin decorated with -wreaths bought lavishly by Vera, and a few -modest ones sent by the doctor's wife and -some sympathizing neighbours, made its way -slowly through the gaping crowd in Haythorn -Street and the immediate neighbourhood, -and proceeded more briskly northwards. Vera -sat back in the first of the two funeral -carriages--the two doctors were in the second--and -as she vainly strove to comfort her weeping -old step-mother, she gazed sternly out upon -the familiar roads with a strange wonder at -the ordinary bustle and movement. Life -was going on as usual, although Victor -Mercier's strong, buoyant spirit was quenched. -They laughed and talked and screamed and -whistled, those crowds, while he lay still -and white within his narrow coffin under the -flowers, his pale lips sealed for ever in that -strange, wistful, unearthly smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they have not heard the last of him," -she grimly thought. "The last will be far, -far more startling than the first!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Let him be laid to rest, and she would rouse -like a sleeping tigress awakened to the defence -of her young, and finding that wife of his, -bring her to justice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The belief that that woman had secretly -visited him, and that by her means he had -had his death-dose, strengthened every -moment until it became a rigid, fixed idea. All -had seemed to point to it. His careful dress -to receive his visitor, the embroidered shirt, -the diamond stud, the white flower in his -button-hole, a costume assumed after she had -left him in his ordinary day suit. Then his -shutting the cat into the parlour was doubtless -lest she should cover his visitor with -her hairs--and the cat only affected women, -and had a trick of jumping up on feminine laps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is justice in heaven, so I shall find -some clue to her," thought she, as they -passed the stone-mason's yards on the -cemetery road. The words haunted her--"Vengeance -is Mine! I will repay, saith the Lord." They -should be inscribed on his tomb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the horses slackened in their -speed--they proceeded at a funeral -pace--then they stopped. They were at the -cemetery gates. Vera heard the distant -tolling of the bell. It had been like this -when her own father was buried, in whose -grave for two Victor was to lie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must bear up," said the aged woman -who leant against her, with a gasping sob. -"Victor would not like to see me cry." And -she tried to give a broken-hearted smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, mother," said the girl tenderly. But -she was not really touched--it was as if her -heart were turned to stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The funeral train went on with a jerk. A -returning empty hearse scampering home the -wrong way had been the temporary obstruction. -Graves, rows of crosses and headstones--ponderous -marble and granite tombs--the -world of the dead was a well-peopled one. -They halted--one of the solemn undertaker's -men came and let down the steps. There -was the coffin--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The beautiful words fell unheeded on Vera's -ears. She was intent upon a small, pale man -with fair hair, in black, who had joined them. -Who was he? Was he the intimate friend -Victor had casually spoken of?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they stood in the narrow pews of the -mortuary chapel, the first ray of sunshine -which had pierced the clouds that day fell -upon the close-cut hair of Paul Naz, who had -determined not only to see the last of the -friend anent whose fate he had such gruesome, -horrible misgivings, but to offer his friendship -to the charming young actress whom he now -knew to have been more to the dead man than -mere step-sister-in-law; and Vera said to -herself, "It is an omen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they stepped slowly out, following the -coffin, she almost staggered as she vainly -tried to support her half-fainting step-mother. -Paul Naz helped her with a "Pardon, -mademoiselle! I am his friend!" and she gave -him a grateful glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were at the grave. The clergyman -was reading "He cometh up, and is cut down -like a flower--" ... A thrush carolled loudly -on a neighbouring bush. The sunlight broke -through and shone upon the brass handles -of the coffin as it was lowered into the grave. -"My beloved, I will only live to avenge you, -and take care of mother," murmured Vera, -as she left the grave, and following her -stepmother, who leant on Paul Naz's arm, listened -to his affectionate talk of the dead man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I loved him, mademoiselle! And if I -can help you, I beg you to send to me!" he -said, earnestly, giving her a meaning, almost -appealing look after he had helped Victor's -mother into the carriage. Then he stood, -bare-headed, and gravely watched them depart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He suspects!" Vera told herself, -feverishly, as they drove home. "Perhaps--oh, -if it only is so! He knows something!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Back in the empty house, she coaxed her -step-mother to bed, and was proceeding to -give orders to the charwoman about the -tidying-up of the place, when there was a -vigorous pull of the bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will see to it," she said to the woman. -Proceeding to the hall-door and opening it, -she was confronted with the landlady of the -next-door lodging-house--a Mrs. Muggeridge, -whose fowls had been harassed by the -tortoise-shell cat, after which there had been -ructions, and each house had cut its -neighbour dead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure I don't wish to hurt your -feelings, or to intrude, Miss Anerley, but my -mind is that troubled I must speak to you," -said the old woman, who was stout and asthmatic, -and looked pale and "upset." "I hope -your poor mar is all right?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, thanks! Will you come this way?" -said Vera, who felt somewhat as a war-horse -hearing the bugle, for she hoped to "hear -something," and she conducted her visitor -into the little parlour and closed the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Muggeridge pantingly, with many -interpolations, told her tale. She had a -country girl as servant, "Sar' Ann, as good a -gal as ever lived." Still, it seemed that Sar' -Ann was human, and could err. The day -after the murder, "as they did call it, and as -some calls it now, in spite of that there -crowner, Sar' Ann was took with hysterics, -and giv' warnin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Which I took. As I says to Sar' Ann, 'I -don't want any one 'ere as ain't comfortable.' And -she was right down awful, that girl was. -One night I took and made 'er tell me what -it was, and I'm goin' to tell you, now! For -the very mornin' after--I suppose because I -told her what she said to me she might have -to tell to a Judge and jury, she ran away. -She got the milkman to give a lift to her box, -and when I got up, expectin' to find the kettle -boilin', she was off and away into -space--and there she is--like one of them Leonines -as they talk of, but we never sees, Miss -Anerley! It'll take a detective to find her, -if so be as she should be called up to say what -she says to me!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxvii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Mrs. Muggeridge paused, and had -a fit of coughing. Vera waited with -the patience which seemed part of her dogged -resolve to avenge Victor's death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" she said mildly, as Mrs. Muggeridge -wiped her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where was I? Oh! About Sar' Ann -making tracks like that. Well, if I tell you -what she told me, and ease my conscience -like, will you give me your word, Miss Anerley, -as no harm shall come to the girl? Poor, -unfortunate girl! I'm glad as it wasn't me! -You promise? Well, it was like this: My -first-floor front, what corresponds with yours -where your gentleman lodges what's been away -for his Ma's funeral, is occupied by a gent in -the City, what leaves a lot of vallables about -as I don't harf like having the charge of. -So, when I'm goin' out, I locks up his room, -if so be as 'e ain't at 'ome, and puts the key -where he knows how to find it. Now, we was -all out except Sar' Ann the night of the -murd--oh, well, the night Mr. Musser died: I -was at the horspital entertainment along -with the rest. So what must my lady needs -do, but get that key--sly puss! she must -have watched and found out where I put -it--and go up into Mr. Marston's room to fiddle -about with his things. I believe she spent -the evenin' there. At all events, when she -was a-sitting at the window, peepin' out, she -sees a tall lady come along, and disappear into -your house. She did think it queer, knowin' -or suspectin' as you was all out! So she -listened, and small blame to 'er, as I told -the girl! She listens--and she swore to me -she could 'ear two voices in the next room, a -man's and a woman's. She sat there listenin' -for a hour or more after dark, and they was -talkin'--sometimes loud--but she couldn't -distinguish the words. And then there was -quiet-like, and she wondered what had -become of 'em--so she was peerin' out of -window when out comes the tall lady, shuts -the door, and makes off. Your 'ansom drove -up at the same time, and she declared to me -she see the lady stop short and stare at you! -There now!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera's thoughts, spurred by the excitement -of such important, unexpected evidence, -worked with lightning rapidity. Even as -she listened with concentrated attention, she -was warning herself to be cautious. If her -suspicions that Victor was foully murdered -were shared by others, the criminal might be -forewarned, and escape her doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she gave a sad, incredulous smile, and -shrugged her shoulders. "My dear -Mrs. Muggeridge, your girl ran away because she -was a wretched story-teller, and was afraid -of being called to account!" she dryly -returned. "The voices, the tall lady--everything--is -pure invention! Surely I ought to -know? The only fact is that I came home -in a hansom. You said she was hysterical. -It is a pity her perverted ideas were on the -subject of my dear, dead brother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brother? I read as you said at the -crowner's quest that he was your sweetheart!" -exclaimed Mrs. Muggeridge, vulgarly. She -had confidently expected to become one of the -chief </span><em class="italics">dramatis personæ</em><span> in the gruesome -tragedy at number Twelve, and her -disappointment exasperated her. "And as for -my poor Sar' Ann bein' a story-teller, allow -me to tell you as she's never told a lie to -my knowledge! Stealin' the key? Gals -will be gals! Let me giv' you a word of -warnin', Miss Vera Anerley, or whatever you -call yourself. Your best plan'll be to find -Sar' Ann--I can't, my respectable house is -ruined by bein' next door to a disreputable -hole where people comes to sudden deaths -and their friends want it hushed up--I've -to see about movin' as soon as I've got over -the shock it's been to me to be next door to -such a orful thing--but if you don't find Sar' -Ann and let 'er help to discover the lady what -murdered your sweetheart, p'raps you'll find -yourself havin' the cap fitted to you, maybe! -So there! Ere's Sar' Ann's larst address, to -show as I don't bear no malice, and wish your -poor old Mar well--I never had no call to -complain of </span><em class="italics">'er</em><span>--but though I knows as Sar' -Ann come original from Oxfordshire, that's -all I do know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Muggeridge huffily made her exit, giving -a contemptuous little shake of her skirts and -a backward glance of defiance as she issued -forth, and down the steps of the offending house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera closed the door upon her and for some -moments seemed riveted to the spot, her -thoughts awhirl. If she could have known that -where she stood, contemplating vengeance, -fiercely if voicelessly praying for justice, the -girl who had been her lover's legal wife, the -girl who had drugged him and brought about -his death, had stood unconsciously listening -for his last breaths, that she might return -and steal the documents which incriminated her!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But no voices came from out the walls, -the ticking of the clock had no sinister -meaning. She heard the charwoman singing some -common music-hall tune to herself as she -swept. Swish, swish, went the irritating -broom--then an organ began to play aggressively -at the end of the street--a chorus from -a comic opera she had heard one night, -nestling against Victor in the dress circle of a -suburban theatre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shuddered and wrung her hands. Why -was life so ghastly, so full of horror, of terror? -But she must not stand there, letting the -precious moments go idly, fruitlessly by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must have help," she told herself. "Alone, -I can do nothing. I will write to Mr. Naz, -and ask him to come and see me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Writing an ordinary little note, merely -asking Paul conventionally if he could make -it convenient to name some time to visit -them, it would comfort her and Victor's -poor mother to see one who had been a good -friend of their loved one's--then going out to -post it at the nearest pillar-box--restored -her outward, if not her inward equanimity. -She spent the day literally setting the house -in order--assembling all Victor's belongings -in the attic lumber-room, to be thoroughly -searched by her on the morrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Early the following morning an empty -hansom drove up, bearing a little note from -Paul. Would twelve o'clock suit her to see -him? And would she send an answer by -the cab?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She wrote a few lines in affirmative reply; -then, after seeing her step-mother comfortably -established on the sitting-room sofa where she -and Victor had revelled in each other's society -that night of happiness after the performance--the -night he first showed her his somewhat -sudden passion for her in all its fulness--she -stole away upstairs to the attic to put away -the relics of the dead man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She had cleared her two best trunks; and -in these she meant to store everything he had -left--clothes, books, pipes. The money had -been placed in a bank in her step-mother's -name. A lawyer friend of Doctor Thompson -had acted for them, and had simplified everything.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The little room was hot. She opened the -window wide, drew down the tattered old -green blind, and set to work shaking, folding, -and arranging Victor's clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How like him it was to have shirts that a -French marquis would hardly have disdained! -As she laid them away with as tender and -reverent a touch as that of a bereaved mother -storing away the little garments of a loved, -lost infant, she almost broke down. But she -took herself sternly to task, repressed her -melting mood, and reminded herself that a -strong man's work--the bringing a criminal -to book--was hers. Any and every womanish -weakness must be sternly disallowed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One trunk was soon full of linen and odds -and ends. This she locked, and proceeded -to fill the next. The books came first--mere -remnants of volumes, mostly French, with -morsels of yellow paper cover adhering to -them. But--strongly redolent of tobacco, -she put them carefully in a layer beside the -cases of pipes, and the odd-looking curios he -had collected. They seemed almost part of -him, somehow, those pipes. That they -should be there, smelling of the weed he had -smoked, and he should be mouldering in his -grave in that densely populated cemetery! -She shuddered. Her hand trembled: she -picked up a yellow volume, </span><em class="italics">Quatre Femmes -et un Perroquet</em><span>, with eyes brimming over with -tears, picked it up carelessly; something fell out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Something? Two things--one, a soiled -little photograph. As she seized it her tears -dried--her eyes burned. It was the photograph -of three girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evidently an amateur attempt--badly -mounted. Three girls in summer frocks and -aprons, two standing, one seated on a bench--in -front there was grass--at the back, part -of a brick house and some shrubs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Fiercely, with intense anxiety, she stared -at the three faces. Two were round and -plain: these belonged to the girls--fifteen -or sixteen years of age at the utmost--who -were standing. The face of the seated -girl was a beautiful one: full of sweet pathos, -and yet with a tender happy smile about the mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too young to be that awful woman," -she mused, crouching on the floor, and gazing. -Still, one of them might have been her -daughter. The woman, by his account, had -been older than Victor, possibly a widow with -a child, or children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was so absorbed in contemplation that -she forgot the other "thing" which had -fallen from the book, until, as she laid aside -the triple portrait and began to resume her -task, she saw it and pounced upon it--darted -upon it like a serpent upon its prey--for it -was a letter, and in a feminine handwriting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A letter--soiled, its edges worn--it almost -fell to pieces as she touched it. Yet it was, -by its date, written but a few years previously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The hand-writing was unformed. But it -was unmistakably a love-letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest Victor," it ran. "I am longing -to see you quite as much as you are wishing -to see me. You say, if I cannot answer your -question to me the other night you would -rather not see me any more! It has made -me very unhappy. You see, I am so young -to be married. Then, if I did what you say, -it would kill my poor mother, who is so very -ill. But I do love you, Victor! I dream of -you nearly every night. Sometimes you are -Manfred, sometimes Childe Harold, and last -night you were Laon and I was your 'child -Cythna!' It was so sweet--we were lying -side by side on a green hill, your eyes gazing -into mine, and I seemed to hear some one -singing 'Oh, that we two were maying'! -Dear Victor, I must do all you ask: I -could not bear not to see you again! It -would break my heart!</span></p> -<dl class="docutils"> -<dt class="noindent"><span>Your promised wife,</span></dt> -<dd><p class="first last noindent pfirst"><span>JOAN."</span></p> -</dd> -</dl> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxviii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Was the loving, foolish "Joan" the -woman he had married? The woman -she had seen coming down Haythorn Street -as she drove up? Or was she "another -woman" altogether?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gazed fiercely at the sweet face in the -photograph. It seemed to gaze blandly, -calmly, back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, God! What shall I do?" she wailed, -grovelling on the floor in her despair. The -anguish of discovery that another had reigned -over his affections, and so lovely a rival, was -almost unbearable. Still, selfish misery was -soon extinguished by the greater, sterner -passion which possessed her--her grim purpose -of revenge, or as she chose to consider it, the -just punishment of the one who had, she -believed, poisoned her beloved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not like Victor to take a noxious -drug, nor was he suicidal in feeling. He -loved life! He was all gaiety and careless -enjoyment of the passing hour, when he was -not white-hot with passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But could he have lied to her about -the age of his "wife"? Then, gazing once -more at the face in the photograph, she -miserably told herself that that girl could -not be termed "hag" and "cat." No, there -must be two women! And yet--and yet--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She started. There was a knock and a ring. -It could not be Mr. Naz! She glanced -interrogatively at the little silver watch she wore -which had been her own mother's. It told -her that it was half-past eleven. She ran -into the front attic--her and her step-mother's -bedroom--and looked out of the window. -There was a hansom at the door. A man -stood on the step below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ran downstairs and opened the hall -door. It was Paul--pale, serious, -faultlessly dressed in half mourning. He bowed -low as he took off his hat, and apologized for -being early. He was not his own master! -He thought of "wiring to her," but his anxiety -for an interview urged him not to postpone -his visit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come in," said Vera, in a low voice. "My -mother is in there, and I want to see you -alone," she added, as she cautiously closed -the door. "I had better tell her you are -here, though. Do you mind coming up to -the lumber room, where I am looking through -Victor's things? There is nowhere else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere--where we can be alone, Miss -Anerley," he gravely said--thinking that if -ever human agony had been fully seen in a -woman, it was now, in this fragile girl with -the pale face drawn with anguish, the great -eyes luminous with wild desperation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He admired her for her self-possession, as he -heard her ringing voice telling her step-mother, -who was somewhat hard of hearing, that -"Victor's kind friend, Mr. Naz, was here, and -she would bring him to see her presently--she -would first take him upstairs to choose -something of dear Victor's as a keepsake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is an actress, of course," he told -himself, as he ascended the oil-cloth-covered -stairs after her--how strange were these -sordid surroundings of a man who had claims -upon the wealthy, luxurious Sir Thomas -Thorne and his family! "But there is only -a little of the actress--the rest is -woman--passionate woman!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera mutely conducted him into the -disordered lumber-room, amid the dusty boxes -and old baskets, where the two open trunks -were standing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been searching his things," she -began, abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes?" he answered, tentatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perhaps you can tell me who these -are?" She dipped into a trunk and handed -Paul the photograph of the three young girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At a glance he saw the subject. "My -sight is not very good, I will take it to the -light," he said, moving to the window, holding -back the blind, and examining the portrait -with his back to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Heavens! For a moment, as he saw the -lovely face of the seated girl, he felt as if -some one had given him a blow. There was -only one Joan Thorne! To mistake that -face was impossible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Regaining his composure with a stern -effort of will--for he must not "give his -friend away," especially now that he was one -of the helpless dead--he turned to Vera.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand! Who are these -persons?" he asked, as if mystified.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is what I want to find out!" she -cried, passionately. "Mr. Naz--I know, I -feel, my dearest Victor was murdered! He -never took that morphia himself! It was -given him--and--by a woman! I should -know her again--I should, I am sure I -should! It was she I saw coming away -from the house that night. I said nothing -about it at the inquest, for fear of dishonouring -my dearest; it was she the servant next -door heard talking to him, and saw coming -out of the house--the landlady has just been -in to tell me about it! The girl will swear -to it--when we get her--she was so frightened -about it she has run away! Mr. Naz, you -were his friend, surely, surely you will not -rest till his murderess is found and punished? -I demand it of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her great sapphire eyes gleamed--she was -impressive in her intensity. Paul's fair hair -seemed to bristle on his head. Victor had -always fascinated--influenced him--his -mantle seemed to have fallen on his beloved's -shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't understand," he stammered, -taking refuge, for safety, in apparent -bewilderment; although even as she had clamoured -her new evidence with seeming incoherence, -he saw all the damning circumstances in -their most fatal light: Joan Thorne's portrait, -Victor's curious suggestions about the Thorne -family being in his power; Miss Thorne's -secret expeditions with her maid Julie, his -betrothed, whose acquaintance, although it -had led to his really caring for her, had been -made by him at Victor's suggestions; the -admission of Victor's that he was married; -then this new and startling evidence--and -Miss Thorne's ghastly, horror-stricken face -when he, only half believing she was the -woman </span><em class="italics">liée</em><span> with the dead man, only -half-suspecting that she might have been -instrumental in his destruction, boldly taxed her -with it at the Duke of Arran's ball, when -alone with her for a few moments in the conservatory.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand?" She spoke -bitterly. "You are no friend of his, then! -You would leave him--in his tomb--killed, -murdered--his murderess at large!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What good could it be to him, now?" -he said, firmly, almost impressively. "Can -we follow the spirits we have lost, and do -anything for them? Might not cruelty to -others hurt them? How can we tell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cruelty to others!" she cried, wildly. -"Understand, Mr. Naz! I know his love--his -Joan! I will soon be on her track! If -you will not help me, I will go to the -detectives!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In her almost frenzy of mingled love for -the dead man, and hate of her rival, the -woman who had been with him the night he -died, she hazarded a chance shot, and even -as she did so, she rejoiced. For the bullet -had found its mark. Paul's face fell--there -was an expression of dismay in the eyes which -were almost fearfully watching her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no! You must not do that!" he -slowly said. "I do not know what my poor -friend may have told you, but remember a -man is sometimes betrayed into a little -exaggeration----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have her letter," said she, exultant, -yet calm. "I have plenty of evidence to -give the detectives. I will not trouble you, -Mr. Naz!" She glanced scornfully at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What was he to do? Abandon Joan -Thorne to this infuriated, outraged, therefore -unscrupulous rival, and a horde of professional -detectives, who would show little or no mercy? -His whole somewhat chivalrous being revolted -against it. When he left Haythorn Street -half-an-hour later he had pledged himself -by all he held sacred to assist Vera in discovering -the real story of Victor Mercier's untimely -end, and acting upon it, whatever it might -prove to be.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Joan, at the Duchess of Arran's -ball, had, with the most violent effort of -will, played her dismal part, acted, feigned -enjoyment of her last dances with Vansittart, -beguiled him with well-simulated smiles, and -sternly resisted the awful inward fear -awakened by Paul Naz's daring words and sinister -demeanour, she almost collapsed. Then, left -alone in her room, the prattling Julie gone, -her night light flickering, she sat up in bed -confronted by the new, hideous fact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Paul Naz suspected her! He knew of her -affair with Victor Mercier! He had identified -her with the "hag" wife that girl Victor -loved had spoken of at the inquest! </span><em class="italics">What -more did he know?</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cold beads stood out on her brow. -The innate conviction she now knew that -she had felt from the very beginning of her -love for Vansittart--the conviction that it -would lead to her doom--arose within her -like some unbidden phantom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What doom? Public shame and the hangman? -Or the utter loss of Vansittart's love? -One seemed as terrible a retribution as the -other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But--do I deserve such an awful punishment -for what was done in ignorance, my -fancying myself in love with Victor, and -being talked into marrying him at the -registrar's?" she asked herself, with sudden -fierce rebellion against fate. "Do I even -deserve it for drugging him to take possession -of my letters? What had he not threatened -me with? And I never meant to kill him! -I am sure I would rather have died than that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again, a passionate instinct of self-defence -as well as of self-preservation came to her -rescue. As she lay there among the shadows -in the silent night, with no sound but the -distant rumble of belated vehicles, and the -measured footsteps of the policeman as he -went his round upon the pavements below -breaking the stillness, she determined, once -and for all, to kill the past.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shall be dead!" she told herself, -sternly. "I will have no more of it! If -any one or anything belonging to it crops up, -I will defy, deny, ignore, resist to the death! -No one saw me--no one can really hurt me! -I have had enough of misery and -wretchedness--I will--yes, I </span><em class="italics">will</em><span>--be happy--and no -one in the world shall prevent me!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxix"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The morning after the Duchess of Arran's -ball Lord Vansittart was seated at his -breakfast, the </span><em class="italics">Times</em><span> propped up in front of -him, when a ring of the hall-door bell was -followed by a man-servant's entrance with -a telegram.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Since his engagement to Joan, he had been -singularly nervous--her changeful moods -were hardly calculated to soothe a lover! -He regarded the buff-coloured envelope -askance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still his tone was cheerful as he said. "No -answer." The message was from Joan; but -there was nothing alarming in it. The few -words were merely "Come as early as you can."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a very few minutes after its delivery at -his house, he had given his brief orders to the -household for the day, had carelessly said -he did not know when he should return, or -if he would be home before night except, -perhaps, to dress--and without waiting for -a conveyance of his own--there would be -delay if he sent down to the stables--he was -out, striding along the pavement until he -met a hansom, which he chartered with -promise of an extra tip for quick driving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Thorne is in her boudoir, my lord," -said the porter, when he alighted at the -house. Evidently the order had been given -to that effect. The groom of the chambers -bowed respectfully, but was easily waved -aside. Vansittart crossed the hall and -sprang up the stairs as only one of the -family might do without disregard of the -</span><em class="italics">convenances</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Tapping eagerly at Joan's boudoir door, his -attentive ear heard a footstep, the door was -opened by Joan herself. She was in the pink -and white </span><em class="italics">deshabillé</em><span> she had worn the happy -day she had first admitted that she loved -him sufficiently to marry him. But now, -her beauty seemed in his fond eyes increased -by the natural arrangement of the wealth of -beautiful hair which was unbound and, merely -confined with a ribbon, floated about her -shoulders like a veil of golden strands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew him into the room and blushed, -as she said she had not expected him so -early.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had to write to my bridesmaids about -their frocks," she began, nestling to him. "I -meant to have my hair done before you -came----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For answer he seated himself and drawing -her to him, kissed the shining tresses and -held them ecstatically in his hand. Their -soft touch seemed to fire his emotions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know you seem unreal, you are -so beautiful?" he said, passionately, lifting -her chin and gazing intently at her delicate -lovely features and the rich brown eyes which -to his delight looked more calmly than usual -into his. "You make me feel--as if--when -I get possession of you--you must vanish -into thin air--you are an impossibility--a -mocking spirit, who will disappear with elfish -laughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't rave!" she fondly said, returning -his kiss. "Or you will make me rave! And -to rave is not to enjoy oneself! Dear, I -asked you to come early--I want to spend -every moment of my life with you--from -this--very--minute! Why should we be -separated? You know what you told me--that -they were telling each other falsehoods -about you at the clubs--so our being always -together will be like killing two birds with -one stone! It will make me happy, and give -the lie to their wicked calumnies! Do you mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do--I--mind?" He kissed her brow, -lips, hair, again and again. "Am I not -yours--more yours than my own--all yours through -time into eternity?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For worse as well as for better?" She -had said the words before she remembered -her terrible dream--when the judge who -was condemning her to be hanged had -upbraided her for not having fulfilled her -wifehood; as they escaped her lips she -recollected, and shuddered. "You think me -better than I am, dearest! I am human--erring----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I--know--what you are!" he passionately -exclaimed. He was plunged in a lover's -fatuous ecstasy. It was half an hour before -Joan could get away to put on her habit. -She meant to ride to Crouch Hill to hear her -old nurse's opinion of what had occurred. -Mrs. Todd had not known Victor's name--she -would not have identified "The Southwark -Mystery," as the newspapers termed -it, with herself and her wretched entanglements. -She would tell her that Victor was -dead, and hear what she would say to it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While she was dressing, Vansittart went -back to his stables, and waiting while the -grooms equipped his now staid, but once -almost too mettlesome grey horse "Firefly," -returned to find Joan's pretty "Nora" -waiting at the door, held, as well as his own -horse, by her groom. He had barely -dismounted when she issued from the house, -a dainty Amazon from head to foot, and -tripped down the steps, smiling at him. -"Why did you ride your old grey?" she -asked, as she sprang lightly into the saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" he repeated, as he arranged her -habit, and thrilled as he held her little foot -for one brief moment in his hand. "Because -I am so madly in love with you to-day that -I cannot trust myself on any horse but the -soberest and most steady-going in the -stables! I am particularly anxious not to -bring my 'violent delights' to a 'violent -end' by breaking my neck!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They rode off through the sweet summer -morning, he so bathed in actual joy, as well -as fired by the anticipatory delights of life -with Joan for his wife, that in his blissful -mood he could have enwrapt the whole of -humanity in one vast embrace--Joan abandoning -herself with all the force of her will -to the natural instincts that underlay all -ordinary, acquired emotions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During her long self-colloquy she had -deliberately burrowed, mentally, below her civilized -being, and sought these. She had told herself -that the primary instincts of woman were -wifedom and motherhood. For the present--until -she was reassured anent her safety -by time and the course of events--she would -listen to no others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two lovers--so near in seeming, so far -asunder in reality, divided as they were by a -hideous secret--rode gleefully on, rejoicing -in their youth and love, making delicious -plans for their future together, gloating over -their coming joys from different standpoints, -but with equal ardour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And for to-day," said Joan, as they rode -under a canopy of boughs in one of the -country lanes still undesecrated by the -ruthless hands of the suburban builder, "and -not only for to-day, but most days, I want -to see how the other half of humanity lives, -dearest! Before I am Lady Vansittart, I -want to see the life that commoners enjoy! -I want to dine out with you, at restaurants, -and go to the theatre with you, and, in fact, -be alone with you in crowds who neither -know nor care who we are, or what we are doing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vansittart, albeit slightly puzzled, readily -acquiesced. When they drew rein at Mrs. Todd's -cottage, it was settled that they were -to use a box he had taken for the first night -of a new play brought out by a manager -who was an acquaintance of his, dining first -at a restaurant Joan selected as being one -not affected by their circle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan entered the cottage and saw the dark -old woman totter to meet her, eagerness in -her trembling limbs and brilliant, searching -eyes, with a feeling of sickly dismay. Last -time she stood here Victor was alive; since -then she had killed him! Involuntarily she -gave a little moan of pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dearie, my lamb, what is it?" The -aged nurse was terribly agitated as she -caressed and tried to console the only creature -she really loved on earth, who had sunk -crouching at her feet. "Is it--come, tell -Nana--you know I would die this minnit -for you, lambie--tell me if that fellow is -alive and annoying you in any way, for, as I -sit here, if he is, I'll tell of him! I'll set the -police upon him!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't," said Joan, chokingly, clasping -her knees. For the first time she seemed -to realize what she had done. "He is dead!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God for that!" cried the old -woman, in an access of fervour. "He is -just, I will say that, if He's sent that -blackguard to the only place he's fit for, instead -of leaving him here to worry innocent folks -as 'ud do their Maker credit if they was only -let alone! And now you can be my Lady, -and go to Court with as big a crown and as long -a train as the best of the lot, duchesses and -all! And you can bring little lords and -ladies into the world to be brought up proper -by head nurses and then send them to colleges, -and make real gentlemen of 'em! The Lord -knows what he is about! There ain't a God -for nothin'!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the first thrill of something akin to -horror at Mrs. Todd's grotesque rejoicing, -Joan put aside her questioning as to "how -the brute came to his end" by asking her -if she would like to see Vansittart, and he, in -his rapt adoration, eager to have to do with -every detail of his beloved one's life, was only -too ready to be curtsied to and congratulated -and blest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is a good old soul, darling, we must -look after her," he feelingly said, as he waved -farewell presently to the tall old crone -watching them from her doorstep as they rode -slowly up the road. "And now, where shall -we go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After one of Joan's scampering rides they -returned home, spent the afternoon in sweet -talk in her boudoir, then Joan retired to -dress--donning her plainest black evening frock -and simplest ornaments--and he paid a flying -visit to his house to dress also, returning to -fetch her, as she had bidden him, in an -ordinary hansom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean to enjoy myself to-night!" she -gaily said. She insisted on feeling -gay--insisted to herself. Presents were arriving -in battalions, boxes of exquisite garments -were delivered with a monotonous regularity. -She had chosen the restaurant they would -dine at, she was also to select the menu. As -they alighted at the door, a man, who was -about to enter, halted, and smiled as he lifted -his hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is that?" she asked as they went in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very clever fellow, the dramatic critic -of the </span><em class="italics">Parthenon</em><span>," he returned. "I will -introduce him to you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxx"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As Joan went into the restaurant on -Lord Vansittart's arm, she felt a -subtle, exquisite sensation of leaving her -troubled, garish, emotional life on the -threshold, and stepping into another, new existence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The vast circular building, with a dome -where the electric lights already cast a warm -glow upon the bright scene beneath, was -dotted over with white tables surrounded -by diners. Palms stood about it--a grove -of moist, luscious water-plants of -subtropical origin surrounded a rosewater fountain, -that tinkled pleasantly in the centre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had better go upstairs, I think," -said Vansittart; and he led her up a broad -staircase into a wide gallery surrounding the -building, and chose a table next to the gilt -balustrade, where she might watch the crowd -beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is delightful," she said smiling, as a -band began to play a selection from a -favourite opera in a subdued yet fascinating -style. Then a waiter came up, obsequious, -as with an instinct born of experience he -detected a couple above the average of their -ordinary patrons, and after a brief colloquy -with him, Vansittart offered her the menu, -and seated himself opposite to await her choice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is difficult to think of eating with -that music going on," she said, feeling as if -in the enchanted atmosphere coarse food -was a vulgar item; and her selection was a -slight one--oysters, chicken cutlets, iced -pudding. Vansittart, possessed of an honest -appetite when dinner time came round, felt -compelled to supplement it with an order -on his own account. "You do not want -me to be starved, I know," he gaily said, as -the man departed on his errand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The music played, the fountain's tinkle -mingled with the hum of many voices, the -footfalls, the clinking of glass and china. -Then the dramatic critic and another man -took the table a little on one side, near to -them. Joan met an admiring glance from -a pair of intelligent eyes. The oysters were -fresh, and some clear soup Vansittart had -ordered seemed to "pick her up" so much -that she resolved to force herself to eat for -the future.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall fight the horrors of my life -better if I do not fast," she told herself, -immediately afterwards chiding herself almost -angrily for recurring to her "dead miseries." With -a certain desperation born of the -discovery that she had not cast the skin -of her experiences on the threshold, she set -herself to court oblivion by plunging violently -into present sensations. She laughed and -talked, ate, drank champagne, and -Vansittart, opposite, gazed at her with -admiring beatitude. Joan's lovely neck, alabaster -white as it rose from her square-cut black -dress, her delicately-tinted oval face with -its perfect features, now brightened by her -temporary gaiety, her great dark eyes, -gleaming with subdued, if incandescent fire, her -halo of golden hair--all were items in the -general effect of radiant beauty. Vansittart -hardly knew what she was talking about; -he felt that the dreamy music discoursed by -the little orchestra below was a fitting -accompaniment to the melody of her delightful -speaking voice, that was all. He was -plunged in a perfect rhapsody of self-gratulation. -And she? Her suspicions were as -alert as ever. She saw he was in a "brown -study," and, although his eyes looked dreamy -ecstasy into hers, and a vague smile of as -vague a content hovered about his lips, she -would rather he lived outside himself. She -herself was trying madly to live in -externals--to stifle thought!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you thinking about?" she -asked, leaning forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You!" he said passionately. "How -can I think about anything else with you -there opposite me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush, the waiter is listening," she said. -But just at that moment the waiter was -aroused by the dramatic critic and his friend -rising and pushing back their chairs, and -went forward to help them assume their light -overcoats.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your friend is going, and you have not -introduced him to me," said Joan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will," said he, and, abruptly joining -the departing men, he brought back the -critic, in no wise reluctant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Clement Hunt--Miss Thorne, very -soon to be Lady Vansittart," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I offer my congratulations?" -Mr. Hunt's face, if not handsome, was -pleasant. His voice betrayed a past of public -school and college. Joan instinctively liked -him. After a little small talk and apologies -on his part for haste--duty called him to be -at his post at the raising of the curtain upon -the new drama--he departed, volunteering -to pay their box a visit between the acts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a capital good fellow, dearest," -said Vansittart, asking her permission to -smoke as the waiter brought their coffee. -"But you must know that, for I would not -otherwise have introduced him to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He looks it," said Joan warmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you know who that couple -are?" asked Mr. Hunt, as he rejoined his -friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Vansittart, wasn't it? What a -beautiful girl! But if all is true they say, -what an unfortunate creature!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Vansittart is one of the best -fellows I know!" exclaimed Clement Hunt; -and he spent the next ten minutes in -indignantly endeavouring to convince his friend -that if club gossip were not invariably -entirely false, in this case any rumour of a -previous marriage on Vansittart's part was -an absolute and odious fabrication.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Meanwhile, Vansittart had carefully -cloaked his beloved in her quiet, if costly, -theatre wrap, and, after royally tipping the -waiter, had escorted her, followed by -interested glances, down the stairs to the entrance. -A hansom speedily conveyed them to the -theatre. They were just settled in the box, -Joan was glancing round the house through -her opera glass, when the orchestra began -the overture. At first, the music merely -aroused a dormant, unpleasant, shamed -sensation. Then, as it struck up a well-known -air from "Carmen," she inwardly shrank, her -whole being, heart included, indeed seemed to -halt, as if paralyzed with reminiscent horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><em class="italics">It was the air Victor had whistled under -her window at night when he was secretly -courting her, and she had not heard it since.</em></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What demon was persecuting her? Not -only that air sent arrows of pain into her -very soul, but the subsequent melodies -drove them home to the core. It was as -if a malignant fiend had picked out and -strung together the favourite tunes the dead -man had whistled and sung during the -stolen meetings of their clandestine love -affair, to clamour them in her ears when she -was powerless to escape. To rush away -before the curtain rose would be to betray -some extraordinary emotion; yet she had -to fight the desire to do so. It took her -whole little strength to force herself to -remain seated in the box and endure the -consequent performance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By the time the curtain rose she was the -conqueror. She had held the lorgnette to -her eyes, and pretended to scan the -audience while that brief mental battle was -raging, lest, removing it, her lover should notice -her agitation. Fortunately, even as the -curtain gave place to a woodland scene, the -auditorium was darkened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the first act proceeded, she recovered -herself a little. There was less of a dense -black veil before her eyes, less surging in her -ears. She could hardly have told what -the first dialogue between the second heroine -and the first heroine--a certain Lady -Chumleigh--was. The girl was sister to -the heroine's husband, Sir Dyved Chumleigh, -and appeared to cause discomfiture to -her sister-in-law by some innocent teasing; -at least, that was what Joan gathered from -the lady's subsequent soliloquy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"However, it doesn't much matter whether -I understand the thing or not," she told -herself. "It seems vapid and unreal in the -extreme."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thought had hardly flashed across -her mind when a sensational episode in the -play awakened the attention of the house. A -slouching tramp, ragged, dirty, abandoned-looking, -suddenly appeared from behind a -tree, and addressed Lady Chumleigh as "My wife!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan sat up and stared. Was it an awful -nightmare? No! As the interview -proceeded between the aristocratic lady and the -miserable ex-criminal, the husband she had -hoped was dead, and with him her past -degradation and misery, Joan recognized that -the stage play was not only real, and no -bad dream, but the parallel of her own -miserable story. The unfortunate heroine -had met and loved and been courted by -Sir Dyved Chumleigh while trying to live -down her secret past. And just when she -seemed sure of present and future happiness, -the wretch who had stolen her affection -traded on it, and then having been imprisoned -for fraud, perjury, and what not, had appeared -in the flesh to blast her whole life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The curtain descended upon a passionate -scene. The unhappy woman, after a spurt -of useless defiance, fell on her knees to -adjure, bribe, appeal to the man's baser -nature, since he seemed to be in possession -of no better feeling. He listened grimly. -The outcome of the encounter was left to -the next act.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dearest, it is upsetting you, I am afraid," -said Vansittart, as the turned-up lights -showed him Joan pale and gasping. "But -don't think that villain will have it all his own -way. I read a </span><em class="italics">resumé</em><span> of the plot, and she -kills him before the curtain falls on the last act."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" said Joan, gazing at him--very -strangely, he thought. He was about -to propose they should leave the theatre, -when there was a knock at the box door, and -Mr. Hunt came in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how do you like it?" he asked -pleasantly, accepting Vansittart's chair.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxi"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXXI</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Vansittart had spoken those -awful words, in a light, almost reassuring -manner, "she kills him before the -curtain falls on the last act," Joan first felt as -if her whole mental and physical being were -convulsed with a strange, almost unearthly, -pain; then everything surged around her, -and threatened to sink away into blackness, -blankness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Good heavens, she was going to faint! -With an effort of will she fought against -unconsciousness; gasped for breath, struggled -to maintain her senses, and was rewarded by -coming slowly back out of the mists, and -seeing the plain, clever face of the dramatic -critic appear opposite, seemingly from -nowhere. Then she heard that Vansittart was -expressing disapprobation of the play.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I only happened to glance at the plot -in your article in the </span><em class="italics">Parthenon</em><span> just before -we came," he was saying. "It was the very -last kind of play I should have chosen for -Miss Thorne to see had I known the story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed?" Mr. Hunt smiled, but Joan -thought he gave her a suspicious, enquiring -look. It was enquiring; he was wondering -whether this beautiful girl were not the prey -of some latent but awful disease--her -ghastliness, the expression of anguish on -her face, was undeniably the effect of some -secret suffering. But Joan could not read -his thoughts. She was frightened into bravado.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I certainly prefer comedies to tragedies," -she hazarded, and there was slight defiance -in her glance at the dramatic critic. -As for her voice, she wondered if it sounded -as unnatural in her lover's ears as in her -own. "A tragedy is such an exception in -everyday life; and when it does occur, one -would rather not hear about it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You differ from the bulk of humanity, -Miss Thorne," said Mr. Hunt, good -humouredly. "And I cannot agree with you -that tragedy is such an exceptional thing in -ordinary existence. My own belief, and it -is shared by many others, is that the -under-current of most lives has an element of the -tragic in it. There are scores of crimes, too, -that never come to light; myriads of -unsuspected criminals. This I think is shown -to be the case by the interest the public have -for what is called the 'sensational.' They -recognize instincts they possess themselves, -although those instincts may be undeveloped, -or held in check."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hunt! You suggest that we are all of -us potential murderers," said Lord Vansittart, -with an amused laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Hunt shrugged his shoulders. "I -suggest nothing; I assume a Socratian -attitude; I encourage others to suggest," he -somewhat dryly returned. "What do you -think of this much-belauded actress, Miss -Thorne? I confess I am not infatuated, -like the rest. She leaves me utterly cold; -hasn't the power to quicken my pulse by a -single beat, even in her most impassioned -moments. I was wishing just now that the -part had been played by a little girl I saw for -the first time the other night--singularly -enough, on the very night she became the -heroine of a tragedy in real life. You must -have read about it, Vansittart. You are -not 'one who battens on offal?' I -daresay not. Nor am I. I should not have -been so interested in this affair if I had not -been mixed up in it, and if a friend of mine -were not destined, innocently enough, to -become one of the strands of the rope which -will assuredly hang the murderer, or, I -should say, the murderess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please, Hunt, don't let us talk of such -horrible things," cried Lord Vansittart. He -had seen his darling shudder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, pray go on!" said Joan, with a -sudden mad effort to hear what there was to -hear without a shriek of agony. So--so--something -more had been discovered--was known.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have probably followed the case, -Miss Thorne. There was the romantic -element in it which appeals to most ladies," -said Mr. Hunt, smiling at Joan. "Ah! I -see; you know all about it. Well, to put -it as briefly as I can, I was urged to go and -see the performance of a young lady, a Miss -Vera Anerley, who had made quite a -commotion in the provinces. Her company, a -touring one, was coming to a suburban -theatre for a couple of weeks, and already -the reporter of a London evening paper had -fallen a victim to her fascination. Well, I -went, and I was so astonished at the -spontaneity of the girl, at the natural art which, -imitating nature, we call genius, that I -asked to be introduced. She refused; the -manager said she must have a lover waiting -round the corner. True enough, she had a -lover, but not waiting for her round the -corner, as it happened, but waiting for her -at home, on the sofa, dead! He was a bad -lot, it seems, that Victor Mercier. You must -have read the case, Lord Vansittart, it was -'starred' a bit because of its association with -a girl rumour says is bound to make her -mark, sooner or later. But even if he was -the blackest of black sheep, justice is justice. -One doesn't care for assassinations done -in cold blood in the very heart of civilized -London. I know it was brought in 'death -by misadventure'; some of those jurymen -were the densest of idiots. But the ball has -not stopped rolling. As I said, a friend of -mine has come into the case. I must tell -you; it is so odd; it so proves the old -saying that 'truth is stranger than fiction.' A -fellow I know very well, one of your circle, -I fancy, went with me to see Vera Anerley -act, but left me when I went round to the -stage door, and, finding it a fine night, elected -to walk home. As he was making his way -westwards by Westminster Bridge, his -attention was attracted by a feminine figure -in front, because, besides being tall and well -made, there was a </span><em class="italics">cachet</em><span> of belonging to a -smart set about her, or he chose to think so. -Then, every now and then the girl tottered. -Was she drunk? he thought. What was -she doing there? He followed her, and -presently, seeing her peering here and there -and glancing furtively about, felt sure he was -on the track of something peculiar, especially -when she flitted up some steps in the shadow, -stooped, and seemed to deposit something -she was carrying in the corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course he at once jumped to the -conclusion that she had abandoned an infant, -living or dead. He naturally shied off -being identified with a discovery of that sort, -so he, I think, if I remember rightly, did not -walk back, but waited for the first bobby -that came along, and, telling him who he -was, related what he had seen. Well, of -course, when instead of a corpse or an infant -they only found a bottle with some brandy -in it, he felt rather small. But the bobby -was sharper witted than he. 'There's -summut rum about this, sir, or I'm very much -mistaken,' he said; and he was right. There -was something 'rum.' The brandy in that -bottle was drugged with morphia; and there -is a lot of interviewing of him going on which -points, I believe, although he only winks at -me and fences questions, that the detectives -are on the track, and that the brandy bottle -will hang that woman, whoever she is. Dear -me! the curtain is going up. I must return -to my friend below. </span><em class="italics">Entre nous</em><span>, the very -fellow I was talking about is in the house -to-night. </span><em class="italics">Au revoir</em><span>, my lord."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan contrived to return his bow; she -held herself together sufficiently to wait until -he was safely out of the box; then she -clutched at Vansittart as wildly as if she were -drowning in deep waters and he was the forlorn -hope, the last available thing to grasp at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take me home, or I shall die," she gasped.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXXII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Yes, certainly, we will go. Bear up, -my dearest, you are safe with me. I -deserve to be shot for bringing you to see -this cursed stuff," murmured Vansittart, as -he supported Joan to the box door, and, -sending the attendant for iced water, brandy, -salts, anything, tended her lovingly until he -saw a faint colour creep back into her cheeks -and lips, when, thanking the damsel, who -had not been unsympathetic, and slipping a -gold coin into her hand, he took his beloved -carefully down into the open air and once -more drove her home in a hansom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clung feebly to him as she lay almost -helpless upon his breast--the cool night -air, the darkness of the silent street under -the starry sky, thrice welcome after her -agony in that hot, glaring theatre--clung, -feeling as if all else in her life were -shipwrecked, engulfed in an ocean of horror, only -he, her faithful lover, the one rock that -remained. And a word of confession from her, -one damning incident that betrayed her -guilt, and she would lose even that grip on -life and be hopelessly submerged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so sorry--I was so silly," she feebly -began, but he interrupted her with almost -passionate determination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My darling, I know, I understand!" -he exclaimed. "That was your friend's -story in a stage play. Joan, I feel I must -protect you from yourself, for you have -allowed an innocent, girlish freak of yours to -lay hold of you in an unconceivable manner. -It would be absurd, if it were not morbid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held forth eloquently on the folly of -retrospection, of exaggerating the follies of -youth, not only during the drive home, but -when they were alone together in the cool -dining room, for Sir Thomas was out, and -Lady Thorne, not expecting them home so -early, had retired for the night; and when -he left her in Julie's hands, unwillingly -obeying her behest, her demand, given with -feverish energy, that her maid was not to be -told that she had been attacked with faintness, -he felt a little more at ease about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suspect her he did not, except of being -one of the most highly strung and sensitive -creatures alive. And, being sure that this -was so--feeling safe in his unbounded love -and trust--she was able to rally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Through all which might happen--even -if Paul Naz changed his mind, and followed -up his suspicions; if the man who found -the bottle of drugged brandy happened to -recognize her as the woman he had seen; if -"that actress girl" could identify her as the -person she passed in the hansom; if, indeed, -any scraps of her letters or some old -photograph of her had been found among Mercier's -belongings--nothing, she believed, would -altogether alienate Vansittart's love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She clung to the thought; it seemed her -one anchor to life. But even as she gradually -recovered from the shocks of that awful -hour at the theatre, she regained a certain -amount of hope.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The very pomp and circumstance of her -wedding; the accounts in the papers; the -laudation of herself, Vansittart, and their -respective families--all must surely help to -avoid exciting the suspicion that she, the -heroine of the glorification, was a whited -sepulchre; that she had stolen out by night -and, alone in a poor room in a lowly -dwelling-house with her lover, had poisoned him and -then left him to die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Conscience did not soften the facts of the -case. She had to face them in all their -unlovely turpitude and deal with them as best -she might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that night when she had to see her -own story partly enacted on the stage, and, -worse still, hear it commented upon with -unconscious brutality by the dramatic critic, -Mr. Hunt, seemed the climax, the crisis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the night gave place to day--and the -day was full of pleasing incidents as well as -of fresh proofs of Vansittart's devotion; he -arrived early, and took "her in hand," kept -her cheerful, and, with his flow of joyous -content, would not allow her a leisure -moment for her "morbidity," as he called -it--she seemed to settle down a little, as one -respited for a time, who deliberately -determines to make the most of the term of peace. -The days went by quickly, for with such -a function as a brilliant wedding imminent, -there was a perpetual bustle, there were -continual obligatory goings to and fro. -Besides, Vansittart mapped out the days--rides, -drives, receptions, dances, all formed -part of his scheme to entertain her until she -would be his wife, feeling his emotions, -thinking his thoughts. Only the theatre was -rigidly excluded. He avoided even the -subject of the stage, nor did he allow her to hear -much music. He considered that of all the -arts music had the greatest power to -reproduce past sensations, to recall memories, -especially undesirable ones. He was -rewarded for his solicitude by seeing his -beloved outwardly cheerful, and apparently -at ease.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan was, indeed, as the days went quietly -by, encouraged by the lack of disturbing -elements, by the entire absence of any signs -that the tragedy of Victor Mercier's death -had any life left in it to torment her. She -had promised herself that, if nothing -happened before her marriage day, she might -consider that she was practically safe. And -at last the happy day dawned--a glorious -summer morning--and, arising with -gratitude in her heart, she murmured a fervent -"Thank God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The house was crammed full of visitors--mostly -the bridesmaids and their chaperons. -At an early hour these girls, attired -in their delicate chiffon frocks and "picture -hats," were fluttering about the mansion -like belated butterflies; for the marriage -was to be early, for a fashionable one, to -enable Lord and Lady Vansittart to start -betimes for their honeymoon, which was to -be spent on board Vansittart's yacht, but -where, remained the young couple's secret. -The bride was closeted in her room, Julie -alone was with her. "I do not wish any -one to see me before I appear in church," she -had said, so decidedly, that her attendant -maidens subdued their curiosity and started -for the church in a couple of carriages--there -were eight of them--without having -had even a glimpse of the bridal attire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan felt that she could not have borne the -innocent chatter of those bright, unconscious -girls, so happy in their unsullied ignorance -of life and its undercurrent of horrors. Only -in a silent, inward clinging to the thought -of Vansittart--so soon to be her husband, -her mainstay, her refuge, her only hope--could -she endure the few hours before she -would be safe--safe--alone with him on the -high seas, no one knowing where they were -or whither they were going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Julie? Julie was her servant, of late -quite her obsequious slave, with the prospect -of being maid to "a great lady," and -therefore a personage among her compeers before -her. Julie was silent when she was silent. -So no bride had ever been decked for the -altar with greater show of solemnity than -was Joan on her wedding morn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I good enough--do I look good -enough--for him?" she asked herself as she -gazed at her reflection in the long mirrors -arranged by Julie so that she could see -herself at all points--full face, back, profile. -What she seemed to see was a pyramid of -glistening satin, a quantity of lace, and a -small pathetic face with a golden glimmer -about it, under a frothy veil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A bride's dress is very unbecoming, -after all," she somewhat gloomily said, as -she accepted the bouquet Julie handed -her--myrtle and delicate orchids; for she had -told Vansittart, urged by the dread of being -confronted with blossoms like the one she -had seen in Victor Mercier's buttonhole as -he lay dead, that if there were any strongly -perfumed flowers about she might faint; a -threat which had driven Vansittart to the -florist who was to decorate the church to -veto all but scentless blossoms. "It seems -strange, does it not, Julie? that weddings and -funerals should have the same kind of flowers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Julie gave a little shriek. "Mais, mademoiselle, -to speak of death on your wedding-day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are worse things than death, -Julie," said she, with a sigh. And she -proceeded below, Julie carefully carrying her -train, while wondering with some dismay -at her young mistress's extraordinary -</span><em class="italics">tristesse</em><span>, then, met by the somewhat agitated -Sir Thomas in the hall, she drove with him -to the church.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Policemen were keeping back the crowd. -She went up the flight of crimson-carpeted -steps, and, passing into the church, dimly -saw a double line of bridesmaids, with their -pure white frocks and eager, blushing faces; -then the officiating clergymen and choristers -in their surplices. "They meet a bride as -they meet the dead," she thought, with a -delirious instinct to burst into laughter. -Then she heard the sweet, solemn strains of -the wedding hymn, and she felt rather than -saw Vansittart, his manly form erect, even -commanding, standing at the altar awaiting -her, his eyes fixed gravely on her, -compelling her by some mesmeric influence to -be calm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How dreamlike it all was! The serious, -holy words; the sacred promises; the ring -placed upon her finger; the farce, to her -who had lost the power to pray real prayers, -of kneeling on bended knees with downcast -eyes at her husband's side; then the fuss -and fervour in the vestry, the cheery smiles -of the clergy, the excited embraces, the -tiresome congratulations. Suddenly she began -to feel her carefully-accumulated patience -give way, and in a terror lest she should -betray herself, she turned to Vansittart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cannot we go now?" she almost wailed, -with a pathetic, entreating glance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, my dearest!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The registers were signed, the business of -the ceremony completed, and, somewhat -abruptly, bride and bridegroom left the vestry -and the little crowd of their gaily dressed -friends, and went quickly through the church, -to return to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What stares and murmurs she had passed -through, running the gauntlet of the crowded -pews of sightseers! As she emerged on her -husband's arm, the cool air made her gasp -with relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whispers, murmurs, policemen backing the -crowd with commanding gestures. There -was the bridal carriage. She saw -Vansittart's horses; they were plunging a little. -What a monster bouquet the coachman -had! She was passing down the carpeted -steps, she was about to halt to step into the -landau, when someone came right in front -of her, offering her some flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Flowers! Those horribly white, thick-scented -blossoms! She recoiled for an instant, -then, remembering she must appear -gratified, she took them, vaguely seeing a ghastly -face, blazing blue eyes, a figure in deep -black, a figure she did not know.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In another moment she was in the -carriage; they drove off. "Horrible things; -throw them out of window," she faintly -said, recognizing the hideous fact that the -posy was of the very flower Victor had -worn when he died.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Presently, dearest; we cannot let the -girl see us do it," he gravely said. He was -examining a label attached. In sudden terror -she flung down her bouquet, snatched the -posy from him, and stared wildly at the -written words--</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In memory of Victor. 'Vengeance is -Mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxiii"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXXIII</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Joan! What does it mean?" asked -the bridegroom, white, stern, after -the shock, still seeming to see those awful -words, "Vengeance is Mine!" dancing before -his dazed eyes in letters of blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mean? That I am hunted down--that -they are after me, cruel creatures, for an act -you yourself said was only childish folly!" She -writhed, and gave a mad, wild laugh -which seemed to freeze him. But her -explanation--her allusion to that which she had -told him--that wretched affair in which she -had innocently helped to ally her school -friend to an utterly worthless scamp--brought -instantaneous relief from his sudden, over -mastering terror that the label hinted at -some unknown horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That was your poor friend, then, dearest, -that you unwittingly helped to injure!" He -detached the label with the Scriptural -quotation from the bunch of flowers, pocketed -it, and flung them out of the carriage window. -"But I thought she was quit of him? Why -should she persecute you, now? When all is over?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She gave him a desperate glance, and -shrank away into the corner of the carriage. -White, her eyes ablaze--even in his miserable -dread, his anxiety, she reminded him of a -celebrated singer he had seen at the opera -a few weeks ago in "Lucia." Why, why -was her agony so intense about a mere -secondary trouble?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Understand!" she hoarsely said. "If -you cannot take me on trust, we had better -part, we had better separate now, this very -hour, and go our different ways----"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How dare you!" he cried; and almost -fiercely, in his anguish to hear such a -suggestion from her lips, he placed his hands on her -shoulders, ruthlessly ignoring the bridal finery, -and gazed into her strained eyes. "You -are my wife! It is an insult to me, what you -say! I am your husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took her peremptorily in his arms, and -kissed her with mingled adoration and -despair. The despair was involuntary--born -of a huge misgiving that something was -seriously wrong with his new-made wife, and -that he had yet to learn what that something was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And now, here we are at your home!" -he tenderly said. "You must try and pretend -to be the happy bride I hoped you were!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he helped her to alight, and acting the -part of the delighted, joyous bridegroom, -led her through the little crowd of servants -standing about the hall, acknowledging their -murmur of congratulation, those melancholy -words of his--so untrue in regard to her love -for him--to her rejoicing in the midst of her -misery that she was his wife--touched her to -the quick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My poor love!" she gasped, as soon as -they were alone in the flower-bedecked -drawing-room, throwing herself upon his breast, -and gazing adoringly into his face. "I--I -had not the courage to tell you before, but I -must--now! I told you my unhappy friend -was free, but I did not tell you how! Her -husband was that man that died--that Victor -Mercier! Perhaps she had something to do -with his death! That is what has been -eating my heart out--that I had had a hand -in killing a fellow-creature--killing--depriving -some one of life--oh, it is awful! Sometimes -I feel that if that man were alive again, I -would willingly die myself--give up all our -happiness--leave you for ever! Now perhaps -you can imagine what I have been suffering, -and what I suffered at the theatre listening -to that Mr. Hunt talking of the woman with -the brandy-bottle, dreading lest he might be -speaking of her--my poor miserable friend!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My darling!" There was a world of -compunction, tenderness, sympathy in his -voice as he drew her down by him on a sofa, -and lovingly clasped her cold, trembling -hands in his. "But you ought to have told -me before! I quite--see--all--now--and -now I am to bear your troubles for -you--troubles indeed, absurd cobwebs--trifles -light as air! Your real trouble, my dearest, -is being in possession of an over-sensitive -conscience! Come--there is the first -carriage--how quickly they have followed us -up--try and look a little more as a bride ought to -look. Your being pale doesn't matter--brides -seem to be given that way--but unhappy? -For my sake, darling, try to look -a little less as if you had just been condemned -to death instead of to living your life with me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He kissed some colour into her white cheeks -and lips; and then the wedding party began -to flock in. Carriage after carriage drove -up, and the bridesmaids and young men, the -older relatives and friends, crowded the -drawing-room, and there were embracings -and congratulations--not half over when -luncheon was announced. It was a gay, or -a seemingly gay wedding breakfast. Joan -went through it all with a curious feeling -of unreality. She heard herself and her loved -husband toasted, she heard his eloquent yet -well-balanced little speech. She smiled upon -those who spoke to her with the almost -reverential solicitude with which a bride is -addressed on her marriage day, and she -muttered some reply, although she did not -seem to gather the meaning of their speeches. -She cut the cake, she rose and adjourned -upstairs when the rest went to the drawing-room. -Happily, she had to hurry her "going away" -toilette, which was presided over by her -aunt, in the seventh heaven of delight at her -only niece's splendid marriage, and by her -aunt's maid--Julie having already started -with Lord Vansittart's valet and the luggage, -to be on board the yacht with everything -ready when the bride and bridegroom -arrived. Happily there was not a spare -moment to be wasted if they meant to "catch -the train" they had planned to start by. -Before she was quite ready, Vansittart's voice -was heard outside the door, hurrying them. -They were obliged to hasten their farewells, -and drive rapidly to the station--the terminus -they were starting from no one knew but Sir -Thomas, who was bound to secresy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even when the express was rattling -across the sunlit country seawards, Joan -feverishly told herself that she was not yet -safe. Since that posy was offered her at the -church door, since she had read those awful -words written on the label, and had looked -into those menacing blue eyes, a renewed, -augmented fear had seemed to half paralyze -her, body and soul; more than fear, worse -than dread--a horrible conviction of coming doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It asserted itself even when she lay on her -husband's breast in their reserved compartment, -listening to the passionate utterances -of intense and devoted love with which he -hoped to dispel her nervous terrors--terrors -which, although he began to understand that -she had unfortunately been drawn into being -one of the actors in an undesirable life drama, -he regarded as mere vapours which could -be dispelled by an equable, peaceful life -shared by him and ruled by common sense. -Those clear, threatening blue eyes seemed -still gazing into hers, penetrating to the -secrets hidden in her soul. All through -Vansittart's endearing words, the bright pictures -he verbally drew of their coming happiness, -those words repeated themselves in her -ears--"Vengeance is Mine! I will repay, saith -the Lord!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when day succeeded day upon the -yacht; when hour after hour she was calmed -by the tender devotion of her husband; when -sunlit summer seas under blue, tranquil skies -were her surroundings by day, to give place -to a dusky mystic ocean lit by glittering -trails of moonlight, and reflecting myriads -of stars at night--a certain calm, which was -more stolidity than calm, a content which -was more relief from dread than peace--came -to her rescue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They spent some weeks on the high seas, -touching only at obscure foreign ports. At -last Joan's latent fears began to reassert -themselves. She urged Vansittart to make -for a seaport where they might procure -English papers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This led to their return from a coasting tour -of the Mediterranean Islands. The heat was -intense, only tempered by sea breezes and -by the appliances on board the luxurious -craft. Still, Joan would not consent to -go northward, where people would naturally -expect them to be. Vansittart put in at -Marseilles, went on shore alone, saw the -papers, ascertained that there was nothing in -them anent "the Mercier affair," about which -his young wife was, in his opinion, so -unreasonably conscientious, and brought them -to her with secret triumph.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hoped that now she would be "more -reasonable," and to his content, his hope -was so far realized that when he tentatively -suggested a return home, she readily -acquiesced. A week later they arrived at his -favourite country seat--a pretty estate in -Oxfordshire, near the most picturesque part -of the Thames.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>An old stone house which had seen the -birth of generation upon generation of -Vansittart's ancestors, Pierrepoint Court stood in a -wide, undulating park. Rooks nested in the -tall elms, shy deer hid among the bracken -under the preserves. An atmosphere of calm, -of unworldly peace, reigned everywhere, and -seemed to affect the new mistress of the place, -even as she entered upon her duties as its -</span><em class="italics">châtelaine</em><span>.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A day or two passed so delightfully that -she frequently told herself with mute -gratitude to Heaven, that trouble was -over--happiness had begun. She strolled through -her dominion with her husband at her side, -all his retainers and tenants welcoming and -congratulating them. Most of all she enjoyed -driving with him in a dog-cart to outlying -farms, and rusticating among the orchards, -visiting the poultry-yards and dairies. This -was before they had written to announce -their arrival to Sir Thomas and Lady Thorne. -The morning their letters must have reached, -they were starting for a long drive when a -telegraph boy cycled up. Vansittart read -the message, which was from Sir Thomas, -and crumpling it up, thrust it deep in his -pocket. "It is nothing," he said, smiling. -But his heart misgave him. The words were -ominous of trouble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Meet me at my solicitors' as soon after -you receive this as possible. This is urgent."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxiv"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXXIV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"No answer," Vansittart said to the -boy. Then he turned, his face pale, -his lips twitching, and saying, "Come in -for a moment," he took Joan's hand and led -her back indoors, through the hall into the -morning-room, where they had but just been -laughing over their breakfast like two happy -children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must catch the next train to town, -dearest, my lawyer wants me on important -business connected with the settlements," -he said. "Yes! Really, that is all! Am I -pale? I confess that the sight of a telegram -always upsets me--I am not as stolid as I -seem. And now, darling, I must be off at -once, if I mean to catch the next train!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He embraced her fondly, adjured her to -be most careful of herself, suggested that she -should keep to the grounds while he was -away--he did not like her "wandering about the -country alone"--and promising to return as -soon as his legal business was over, he left -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stood at the door watching the -dog-cart speed away through the park until it -disappeared into the avenue of limes; then -feeling as if her heart were a huge leaden -weight within her breast, she went to her -boudoir, a room Vansittart had had -refurnished for her in white and pale blue, and -where they had sat together since their arrival -when they were not out of doors. It was -one of those close, thundery summer days -which encourage gloom; and as she flung -aside her hat and gloves and sank hopelessly -into a chair, she wondered how she would -contrive to get through those hours before -his return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Evidently Vansittart had become not only -all in all to her, but she hardly dared face -life without him. A nervous terror seized -upon her. She felt, as she looked fearfully -round, as if mocking spirits were rejoicing -to find her without his protecting presence. -Faint, jeering laughter seemed in the air, or -was it only a singing in her ears?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I don't fight this awful feeling, he will -find me mad when he comes home!" she -wildly thought. So she rang the bell, and -asked for the housekeeper, who presently -came in in a brand-new, rustling silk, a little -fluttered. But she felt gratified by her -mistress asking so sweetly to be "shown -everything," and the hours before the -luncheon bell rang were whiled away by an -inspection of the mansion and its contents -from offices to attics and lumber-rooms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came luncheon in the big, pompous -dining-room: luncheon alone, with strange-looking -ancestors painted by Vandyck, Lely, -and others, gazing grimly out upon the slim -girl in the white frock sitting in solitary -grandeur at the table, obsequious -men-servants in solemn, silent attendance. After -that ordeal she felt she could bear no more, -and tying on her hat fled into the grounds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here the extraordinary stillness of -everything under the dense canopy of slowly -massing clouds oppressed her still more. She -felt more and more eerie and distraught as -she wandered, until she came to the river. -Here there was movement, something like -life again. A faint breeze stirred the wavelets -as the flood rushed steadily seawards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will get out a boat and have a row. -That may make me feel less horrible!" she -determined. She went to the boathouse, -chose a skiff, and was soon rowing rapidly -up stream. She had learnt to row as a child. -The boat sped cleanly along, as she neatly, -deftly, handled the sculls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her melancholy slightly dispelled by the -exercise, she forgot how time was going--how -far she had rowed out of bounds, when -suddenly an arrow of lurid lightning went -quivering down athwart the dense grey -horizon, followed by a detonating roar of -thunder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am in for it, there's no doubt of that!" -she told herself, almost with a smile. Rain, -storm, thunder, lightning--what items they -were in the balance against a conscience -bearing a hideous load such as hers! As -she turned and began to row steadily -homewards, she realized her mental state almost -with awe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another flash illumined the whole -landscape with a yellowish-blue glare, then a -clap of thunder followed almost -instantaneously. Down came such a deluge of -rain that for a minute she was blinded; -she sat still, wondering whether the slight -craft would fill and be sunk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, remembering her beloved, she urged -herself to make an effort and return home. -Although the downpour beat steadily upon her, -upon the boat and the water around, although -little runnels trickled coldly down her neck, -and her straw hat was already pulp, she went -steadily on and on, until at last she was at -the boat-house, and had moored the skiff -under its friendly shelter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rain had given place to hail, so she -thought better to wait awhile before walking -home. She sat there, wringing the water -from her skirts, and wondering what -Vansittart would say if he knew her plight, until -the clouds parted, watery sunbeams cast a -sickly lemon tint upon the river and its banks, -and a rainbow began to glow upon the -slate-coloured clouds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she stepped from the boat and started -to walk across the park. Her clinging -garments made locomotion difficult. "What a -drowned rat I must look!" she told herself. -"What will be the best way of getting to -my room without being seen? I know! -The side room window!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The side room" was a chamber leading -from the hall, and conducting by a second -door to the offices. It was used for humbler -visitors, messengers who waited answers, -dressmakers and the like. In the hot weather -the window was generally open. "If they -have shut it, I must go in by the usual way," -she thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not shut. With a little spring she -balanced herself on the sill, and slipped down -upon the floor, to find that the room was not -empty as she had expected. A slight person -in deep mourning, who had been seated, rose -and confronted her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan stared at the white, stern, but beautiful -face in sick dismay. This was the woman -who had given her the flowers--the posy -with the strange, awful threat written on -the label, when she was about to enter the -bridegroom's carriage as she left the church -after her wedding.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see--you know me," said the girl. She -spoke with icy composure. "I have come -to speak to you of your danger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two looked into each other's eyes -unflinchingly--Vera with a cold condemnatory -stare; Joan with the apathy of abject despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come this way, please," she said. Her -garments dripped slowly on the polished -floor; she glanced at the drops with a curious -wonder, then led the way along a passage, -and held open a baize door. In another -moment the two were shut into Joan's -boudoir, and Joan waved the girl that her -wretched, so-called husband had loved, -towards a chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook her head, impatiently. "I -meant to wait to see you until you were -in the dock," she began. "Your whole -doings are known, from the first letter you -wrote to poor Victor, to the hour I saw you -in Haythorn Street, coming out of the house -after you had poisoned him and left him to -die! I had meant to tell all I knew to the -detectives, but they came after me. All is -complete--you may be arrested at any -moment. Then will come your trial, your -condemnation--your hanging. I expect you -have dreamt the rope was round your neck; -at least, if you have any feeling left in you. -Murderess that you are, you have ruined my -life, you have killed my dearest love, who -loved me, not you--and I was gloating over -the idea of your being hanged by the neck -till you were dead, when I dreamt of my -Victor. I dreamt a shadow--his shadow--bent -over me, and said those very words that -I thought meant your doom, 'I will repay, -saith the Lord!' I awoke, and knew that -I was to come and warn you, that you may escape."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped short, gazing curiously at -Joan's drawn, ashen features, features like -those of an expressionless corpse. Her eyes, -too, were dull, wandering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Escape?" she said, stupidly. Then she -dropped into a chair, feeling half dead, half -paralyzed. The thunder rolled faintly in the -distance. It seemed to her that she was -still seated in the boat, rowing, rowing, and -was dreaming this wretched misery.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, escape!" the other repeated, bitterly. -"You must confess everything to your -husband--mind! everything! Then, perhaps, -as I, whom you have injured for life, have -had mercy on you, he may! At all events, -he may do something to save your neck. -You have but a few hours' safety--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She started and stopped short. The door -was flung open, and Vansittart entered, -briskly, eagerly. He looked from one to the -other, then went up to Joan, and reverentially -lifting her hand, kissed it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is this lady, dearest?" he asked, -gazing steadfastly at Vera.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="chapter-xxxv"><span class="large">CHAPTER XXXV</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I am Vera Anerley," said the pale girl, -speaking in clear tones of deadly meaning. -"I have come to tell your wife that the -case against her is complete; that she may -be arrested at any moment for the murder -of Victor Mercier!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan gave a faint cry, and buried her wet, -dishevelled head in Vansittart's coat-sleeve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush, darling, I am here!" he tenderly -said. Then, supporting Joan's fainting form, -which was already a dead weight, he looked -with cool scorn, with stern defiance, at the -slender, black-clad figure, at the white, -miserable face with those menacing eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Case, indeed," he exclaimed with scathing -contempt. "A jealous woman's vengeance, -you should say! But your miserable plot -to destroy my injured wife, woman, will -succeed in injuring no one but yourself. I -have this morning learnt every detail of the -trumped-up charge, and given my instructions -for the defence. If, indeed, the affair will -go any further after my deposition on oath -that on the night that--man--died--my -future wife was with me until she met her -maid to return home. And now, since you -have succeeded in making Lady Vansittart -ill, I must ask you to quit the house--I -will have you driven to the station, if you like--"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vera interrupted him with a groan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I forgot!" she wailed. "I forgot--a -man will perjure himself to save the woman -he loves! But your lies will fail to save her, -my lord! Husbands and wives are nothing -in law, in a murder case! If you want to -save her, you must take her away!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a sob she turned on her heel and went -out. Vansittart gathered Joan in his arms, -and sinking into a chair tried to kiss her back -to life. "My darling, I know all! I will -save you!" he repeated passionately. What -could she have been doing? She must have -been exposed to the whole fury of the storm. -Had the vindictive creature killed her? He -had thought himself hopelessly crushed, body -and soul, when he arrived at his lawyers' to -find the distracted Sir Thomas with his awful -tale of the charge to be brought against his -niece, which Paul Naz had in compassion -forewarned him of. But the sight of his -darling--who looked dead or dying--who lay like a -stone in his arms and hardly seemed to -breathe--brought back life and energy, if it augmented -his despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her garments were wringing wet--what a -frightful state she was in! With a -half-frantic wonder what he had best do, he lifted -her in his arms, so strong in his anguish that -she seemed a mere featherweight, and carrying -her upstairs to her room by a side -staircase that was little used, laid her on the -bed, and rang for Julie. While a man was -despatched in hot haste for the doctor, the -two cut and dragged off Joan's soaking -garments, and vainly endeavoured to chafe -some warmth into her icy limbs. But at last -insensibility had come to the rescue of Victor -Mercier's unfortunate dupe. Joan lay inert -and senseless, and when the old doctor who -had attended a couple of generations of -Vansittarts in their Oxfordshire home came -in, his wonted cheeriness changed to gravity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nothing could be done but wait patiently -for the return of consciousness, and telegraph -for nurses. He could make no prognosis -whatever at that stage, but that Lady -Vansittart's health was in a critical condition.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you mean that she may not recover?" -asked Vansittart. They had adjourned to -Joan's boudoir, leaving Julie and the -housekeeper in temporary charge of the patient.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old Doctor Walters shrugged his shoulders -and raised his shaggy eyebrows. Vansittart -was answered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I tell you that I hope to God my -wife will die, you will understand there is -something terrible in all this!" he exclaimed--and -the tone of his voice, as much as the meaning -conveyed by such a speech, made the old -man sit up in his chair aghast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he was still more horrified when the -unhappy man he had known and tended -since childhood told him the miserable story -as he had gathered it from Joan herself, and -from the dreadful tale told to Sir Thomas in -its entirety by Paul Naz: the tale of a -romantic schoolgirl secretly wooed and married -by a man who immediately afterwards -absconded, as he was "wanted" by the police -on a charge of theft and fraud: her foolish -dream dispelled when she learnt that fact, -hiding her secret from the uncle and aunt -who had adopted her; then, as the years -went by and the husband-in-name made no -sign, hoping against hope, and giving way -to her great love for a man who adored her. -Then, just as they were promised to each other, -the man's reappearance with threats of -exposure, his compelling her visits to his -rooms, and her succumbing to the temptation -of mixing morphia in his brandy. The one -item unknown was Joan's motive for drugging -Mercier. So the case looked terribly black -to Vansittart and his friend in need, his good -old doctor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Good--and tenderhearted, for at once he -offered to see them through their trouble--to the end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the police appear with a warrant they -cannot refuse to listen to me," he said. "So -I shall take up my abode here, and leave -my patients to my partner and our assistant."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The honeymoon was waning in the most -dismal of fashions. The house was wrapped -in gloom. Joan had recovered consciousness -to suffer agonies of pain, and fall into the -delirium of fever. The prolonged chill of -being the sport of the storm, with so terrible a -shock to follow, had resulted in pneumonia. -A specialist was summoned from town. He -gave no hope. When his fiat was pronounced -a look of relief came upon Vansittart's worn, -lined features. The specialist went away -wondering, but old Doctor Walters understood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the stricken husband took up his -position at his wife's pillow, and banished -every one. Whatever his life might contain -in the future of hideous retrospection, for -those few short hours left he would watch -his erring darling yield up her soul to the -great Judge who alone knew the frail clay -he had made, without any human soul -witnessing his agony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Joan had been raving, madly, incoherently -of the past and present, tossing and writhing, -now and then clamouring and groaning. But -a few minutes after Vansittart had banished -the nurses and taken up his position by her -side, she seemed to grow calmer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Was it possible that at least she might die -in peace, free from those horrible fantasies, -those cruel pains?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched her anxiously hour after hour. -As the delirium abated the restlessness ceased, -and she seemed to fall asleep. He had come -to her at midnight. When the grey dawn -crept into the room Joan was asleep, and as -he lay and gazed wearily at her, his head -drooped until it rested on the pillow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a succession of wild, tormenting -dreams--a purgatory of horrible physical -sufferings--Joan slept. She was vaguely -conscious of Vansittart's nearness, vaguely -sensible that relief had come. The sleep -was like heaven after hell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then at last another kind of dream was -added to her sense of slumber. She felt -that something greater and nobler had been -added to her life, and that it was all around -and about. In the tremendous vastness and -solidity of the new influence all seemed -petty, small; she knew that she, Vansittart, -Mercier, Vera, all were but dancing specks -in a gorgeous sunlight.....</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Vansittart awoke with a start, a feeling of -guilt, fear, and a pain in his arm from some -heavy weight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then a horrible cry startled the nurse who -was keeping vigil in the next room. She -rushed in and up to the bed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The following day three stalwart men -descended from the quick train from London -and chartered a fly to drive them to Lord -Vansittart's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A fine place," said one, almost -regretfully--he was young, with a fresh colour, and -his errand seemed ghastly to him--as they -drove in at the open gates, past a lodge which -was to all appearance empty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the eldest of the trio. "Dear -me," he added, looking out as the fly passed -out of the lime avenue. "What a melancholy -looking house! All the blinds down, too!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Arriving at the hall-door, the oldest and -sternest-looking emerged and asked to see -Lord Vansittart. The porter looked -impressed, but unhesitatingly admitted him, -and conducted him to the library, leaving -him with a grave "I will tell his lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Strange; he did not ask who I was or -what I wanted," murmured the man to -himself. The silence in the great mansion was -almost oppressive. He heard the servant's -footsteps, distant voices, the clang of a closing -door, then a slight pattering, which grew -gradually more distinct, and seemed to keep -pace with the beats of his pulse. Advancing -footsteps!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have heard, and they have all gone; -the man is coming back with some fine tale -or another," he told himself, exasperatedly. -As the door opened he turned with ready -resentment, which gave place to a startled, -uncomfortable sensation as in the ghastly -man in deep black who entered he recognised -Lord Vansittart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry, my Lord, but I have a -most painful duty to perform," he began, -taking the warrant from his pocket. "I -am compelled to arrest Lady Vansittart for -the wilful murder of Victor Mercier on the ---th of June last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Vansittart bowed, asked to see the -warrant, and then slowly said, "If you will -come this way, I will take you to her ladyship, -who has a complete answer to the charge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The detective bowed, passing his hand -across his lips to assure himself that he was -not smiling--he had no wish to wound the -wretched husband of a miserable murderess--and -followed the proprietor of the -richly-furnished mansion across the hall, up the -grand staircase, and along the corridor. -Vansittart paused at a door, opened it, and entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The detective followed, half suspicious, -half uneasy. The room was hung with -white--everywhere were piles, masses of red flowers. -On the white-hung bed lay more blood-red -blossoms. Lord Vansittart went up to it -with bowed head, and folding back the sheet -that was scattered with the crimson blooms, -showed a beautiful waxen face surrounded -by close-woven gleaming hair: waxen hands -folded meekly on the breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good God! Dead!" The detective -recognized her--he had no doubt as to the -fact--but he felt it with a shock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Lord Vansittart, grimly, -turning to him with a look which he afterwards -confided to his wife was the worst experience -of his hard-working and disillusionary -existence. "Alive! Men may torture and kill -our bodies, man, but who can kill the soul?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">Novels by Guy Boothby.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">SPECIAL AND ORIGINAL DESIGNS.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Each volume attractively Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood and others.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics small">Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt. Trimmed Edges, 5s.</em></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>MY STRANGEST CASE -<br />FAREWELL, NIKOLA! -<br />SHEILAH McLEOD -<br />MY INDIAN QUEEN -<br />LONG LIVE THE KING! -<br />A SAILOR'S BRIDE -<br />A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS -<br />A MAKER OF NATIONS -<br />THE RED RAT'S DAUGHTER -<br />LOVE MADE MANIFEST -<br />PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN -<br />ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE -<br />THE LUST OF HATE -<br />BUSHIGRAMS -<br />THE FASCINATION OF THE KING -<br />DR. NIKOLA -<br />THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL -<br />A BID FOR FORTUNE; or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta -<br />IN STRANGE COMPANY: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas -<br />THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER: A Torres Straits Sketch.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">WORKS BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">E. Phillips Oppenheim.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><em class="italics small">The Illustrated London News</em><span class="small"> says:--"Humdrum is the very last word -you could apply to (a tale by) E. P. Oppenheim, which reminds you of one of -those Chinese nests of boxes, one inside the other. You have plot within plot, -wheel within wheel, mystery within mystery, till you are almost dizzy."</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><em class="italics small">The British Weekly</em><span class="small"> says:--"Mr. Oppenheim has boundless imagination -and distinct skill. He paints in broad, vivid colours; -yet, audacious as he is, -he never outsteps the possible. There is good thrilling mystery in his books, -and not a few excellent characters."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE GREAT AWAKENING.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE SURVIVOR.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A MILLIONAIRE OF YESTERDAY.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE MYSTERY OF MR. BERNARD BROWN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE WORLD'S GREAT SNARE.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A DAUGHTER OF THE MARIONIS.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by ADOLF THIEDE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>MYSTERIOUS MR. SABIN.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>AS A MAN LIVES.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>A MONK OF CRUTA.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Illustrated by WARNE BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">Novels by Joseph Hocking.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, 3/6 each. Each volume uniform.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>GREATER LOVE. Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>LEST WE FORGET. Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE PURPLE ROBE. Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE SCARLET WOMAN. Illustrated by SYDNEY COWELL.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE BIRTHRIGHT. Illustrated by HAROLD PIFFARD.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH. Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN. With Frontispiece -and Vignette by J. BARNARD DAVIS.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>ALL MEN ARE LIARS. With Frontispiece and -Vignette by GORDON BROWNE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>ISHMAEL PENGELLY: An Outcast. With Frontispiece -and Vignette by W. S. STACEY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX. With -Frontispiece and Vignette by GEO. HUTCHINSON.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? Illustrated by LANCELOT SPEED.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>JABEZ EASTERBROOK. With Frontispiece and -Vignette by STANLEY L. WOOD.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>WEAPONS OF MYSTERY. With Frontispiece and Vignette.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Z1LLAH. With Frontispiece by POWELL CHASE.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>THE MONK OF MAR-SABA. With Frontispiece -and Vignette by W. S. STACEY.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">Some Magazines are</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">MERELY MASCULINE....</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Others are</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">FRIVOLOUSLY FEMININE.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">... THE ...</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="x-large">WINDSOR</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="medium">Stands alone as -<br />The Illustrated Magazine -<br />for Men and Women.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>ITS STORIES--Serial and Short alike--are by the leading; -Novelists of the day; Its Articles, ranging over every branch -of our complex modern life, are by recognised Specialists; Its -Illustrations represent the high-water mark of current -Black-and-White Art.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>These features combine to make The Windsor's contents, -month by month, a popular theme for conversation in circles -that are weary of the trivialities of the common-place periodicals.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>In addition to its strong interest for MEN and WOMEN, the -Windsor makes a feature of publishing the Best Studies of -Child-Life that the modern cult of youth has yet produced -in fictional literature.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">The WINDSOR'S recent and present Contributors include:--</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Rudyard Kipling -<br />Mrs. P. 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Nesbit -<br />Guy Boothby -<br />Ian Maclaren -<br />Frankfort Moore -<br />Anthony Hope -<br />Ethel Turner -<br />Robert Barr -<br />Barry Pain -<br />Gilbert Parker</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="large">WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>A WOMAN MARTYR</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41711"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41711</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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