An Interrupted Revenge

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 1107, 21 November 1917, Page 3

An Interrupted Revenge

1 ByTOHMOAITOM |

Ittojnpiititt, imt, br Authpra tsrwUMtM **TXTHO 16 the dietingtiisliad lookYY iaf man who earn* in then urittMr. Campbell?" Tie person to whom the question was addressed glanced across the reception hall and replied: "Bobert Gordon. He is the fellow about whom the newspapers are saying so lobbyist from New York who has succeeded in gettingthe Consolidated Telephone ordinances through the council. Handsome, isn't he?" "Remarkably so. Still, on a closer view his 1 expression is not entirely pleasant, and I should say that he bears marks of dissipation—notgrossly, but there is something that suggests wine, women and song at unholy hours—or am I mistaken? Is that pallor natural?" > A woman standing nearbent a keen glance at the man as his name was mentioned, and the slightest suggestion of a flush appeared on her cheeks. It was the first time she had laid eyes on him since the night shei had jilted him for Frederick Markham. That was 19 years ago. U'hey were both young —about 18—and had been sweethearts from childhood. He was still in college, a brilliant boy and a career predicted for him. But the career was a long ways off and Gordon had little other than expectations.

Frederick Markham was rich and and ten years her senior. He offered her all the things so dear to the girl just budding into society, and she had accepted him and thrown Gordon over. She had not anticipated such a scene, however, as followed when she told him that she was to marry Markham. He accused her bitterly of heartlessnes* and of deliberately leading him on for the sake of amusement. He swore that she hail ruined his life and for the wreck that would follow she was responsible by •very law of God and of man. He told her that he would never again believe in the sincerity of a human creature. He would live, he declared, solely to gratify his senses, and he wished her much joy in the eale she had made of herself. It was the speech of a hotheaded, high-spirited, disappointed boy. It all came up before her this nigtit many years later with startling vividness a» she looked at him across the reception hall.

And it had eventuated much as he had predicted. He had finished his col-; lege course and studied law, Awhile plunging into extreme dissipations. His great natural abilities had carried him through and he had settled in New York, where, instead of devoting himself to his profession, he had used his brilliant qualities to forward a'.l sorts of questionable scheme*. He had become a very successful lobbyist. He had never visited the home city since his interview with the woman until this time, when he had come to force through the city council the most audacious and notorious measure that had ever been attempted in the city. And he had succeeded ami it was whispered that he had secured a small fortune for his work.

She was surprised at the great •hange in the man, and still more surprised at the unchanged resemblance to the ingenuous, enthusiastic youth she had known. He looked scarcely older, excepting for the prematurely gray hair, although the face had lost its roundness and the cheeks -were white with pallor. While all this flashed through her mind Robert Gordon and Mr. Campbell we're surrounded by a merry party of ladies and gentlemen, to whom the former was being presented. When Mrs. Markham glanced toward the party, Gordon was being presented to her daughter, n tall, handsome, vivaci6us girl of 18. The mother noted the look of startled recognition in his eyes (the girl was a perfect prototype of her mother at the same ftge), and noted also the slight flush in his pale cheek. The mask of indifference had vanished from his face and he entered at once into an animated conversation with the girl, An expression of anxiety 2ame into the face pf Mrs, Markham and the shadow of a great apprehension crossed her heart. Then she straightened herself haughtily and muttered to herself: "What an idea. I must be going into second childhood." During the entire evening Gordon monopolised Miss Markham'* attention, and at the close handed her to the carriage—all to the eoh#ider.able discomfiture of her mother. Kobert Gordon did not return at ohoe to New York as he had announced previously. The weeks faded into months and still he occupied the handsomest ftiite at the Koyal and hung over the dainty hand of the young heiress of ihe Markham fortune. Mrs.Markham fretted and stewed,.but her erpostulaJfioh* fell,on unheeding ears. The girl felt the strong attraction toward :thY handsome man of the world ever felt by daughters toward the men who hare been the unsuccessful suitors for their mothers' hands; snd as for Mark* ham, he was charmed by the dominant personality*of the New Yorker. The mother's apprehensions were not unfounded, however, and one day the father Awoke to the situation and there was a most serious talk between Clare's parents. It was fully evident that the girl was madly in love! with the brilliant lobbyist; 'and when the matter was talked. PVep Frederick M'n'r.khaftf saw at.once" that it was not a proper' match for the daughter. Then 'there wu a Hrio«i

■• . ' '<■■ ' .'; '.. •■ .* ■> ' - interview wftb the girl, wle wa tdtS plainly; the character of the : man. She resented it passionately, and the reitult was that'a ,I'ew.days later Robert .Gordon -formally proposed to Markhaui for the hunt] of his daughter, in/reply to the , indignant rer fusal of the father (Jordon coolly informed Him that he already had the consent bf the girl and proposed to marry her in .any event—with the parental consent if possible, without it if necessary. Clare when consulted east her lot with Gordon. All revelations concerning Gordon's career and record were without avail.

Then the mother in desperation went to Gordon's apartments at the Royal and made a pathetic appeal to him.

"There can be no happiness in such a match," she said. "When she awakens to the,realities she will be heart* broken—as you well know. There is no happiness in such a marriage either for her or for you. I do not know what you are after. 1 will not insult you by intimating that ,you seek her money. If you do it shall be yours without a marriage. In any event I conjure you by a mother's love; by the memory of the old times when we were friends—more , than friends, do not destroy my daughter's life.". . . ■

Rising from his chair where he had sat nonchalant and unconcerned during the interview, Gordon advanced directly in front of the excited woman who stood with elasped hands and flushed face pouring' out her heart, and said in a. voice hoarse with emotion: "It has been my dream for 10, years to m« you in front of roe pleading for something dear to your heart. I never dared to hope the dream would come not in the manner it has. Let me tefl you, I wijl give you your heart's desire just as you gave me mine" 39 years ago. You ehose deliberately to ruin my life. You were merciless—even scornful. What 1 am. lam as a result of your heartlessness. What I am not is the result of your faithlessness. All th* reasons that make me in your estimation an unfit husband for your daughter are the result of your ambition and your advice. I was not a man of bad in-, stinets in the old dnvs. I was not void of ambition. All this you deliberately killed. You sapped all the good ou|; of my nature arid thr«*w me aside, a mere husk. Now yon appeal to the moral nature yoK destroyed. I never dreamed of so perfr'i a revenge until I saw the girl—your very second self, and then I saw the way'to make you suffer even as i have suffered. And you must suffer to the end. I will not spare you. Go | and tell the girl what I have said—and that I am your old lover, if you please. She will not believe it and I will deny }t. It is your turn to walk the floor now. I have done ft for 19 years. Oh, I will lead your proud nnd sensitive girl a pretty dance, I promise you." He caught her as she fainted, and nfter applying restoratives showed her to her carriage. The wedding was a swell affair and the newly-wedded pair went abroad for a honeymoon *our. . *' * • .' It was ten months later at Venice, when the crisis eame. They had lingered for five weeks enjoying the soft languor of the Italian skies. The months had been a revelation to Gordon. JTevcr had he supposed earth held such joy as he had found in! the golden weeks that had slipped by since his marriage. ~As he penetrated further and further into the nature of the woman who had married him despite warning, and evil report, he sounded depths of tenderness that he never expected had existed. Tar. from carrying out his threat and intention to break her heart, he be(•niue inspired day by day with the deepest reverence for her. This soft evening in Venice the climax came. ' He crossed over to where his wife sat and said: "Clare, I have a confession to make, I cannot go on in this way with a He in my heart. I did not marry you with a clean soul and from a pure love. All they have said about pie is true, Your mother knew me better than any living person, and she told you the truth. .Since I have known you as wife I have come ,to learn somewhat of your real worth, and a great loathing of myself has taken possession of me until life seems only tolerable on;the condition that I cease to act a lie and that you know me as I am. Forgive. in*?.';> I was cruelly, hurt by a woman one* and I charged it to all womankind. J will make any amends yo«: say. I will leave you if you will U—anything, anything, ha matter hbW hard so 11 stand at least honest in your sight.'V . ■■ '"'■<. ' '. With a broken sob he sank on one knee and buried his face in hie hands. In an instant she was beside him with both arms about his neek. "I knew yon better than you knew yourself," she whispered, '. rtxelas aia H*tinar It was on the beach at Southampton. A number of children were playing and digging in the sand in charge of two nurses and governesses. Two little fellows in immte- ', ulate white duck sailor suits had scraped up an acquaintance. If either of them was muih over three years old." --. , ; ', ' "I live te'>Niew',;To>k,'':i'-s)aid'i'.;'o«eV-!' with somewhat of an air of superiority, "and where do you live?" ' The; other ,«fhop 160ke4 him over ' for a moment a^d'then retorted: "I live at Tuxedo' Park. ■'; IJpw many horses. father ; ;keep,?" v -:. : '• . This last was a crusher, but i it .showed-the spirit of the rising nionfeyed generation.---X. Y. Tunes; ■■//,.'