THE DRAMA of a LIFE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIII, Issue 30, 5 February 1892, Page 3

THE DRAMA of a LIFE.

BY JEAN KATE LUDLUM.

Author of 'John Winthrop's Defeat, • Under a Cloud,' 'Under Oath.

CHAPTER XXII.

ACTORS IN A DRAMA. But, plot as I may. I can find no way How a blow should fall, such a a tails on men. Robert Bkownii«g. Walker Paling reburned bo the ciby sooner than he expected when he started UDon his summer's vacation. He had travelled through the West for recreation, and also for subject-matter for a novel. _ He met a few of his friends in different cities where he stopped, and made many new ones, but he was restless and dissatisfied. Nothing pleased him for long. The people and tho scenery—delightful people, beautiful scenery—lost their interest to him after the very first. His nature, his character, his life itself, seemed to have changed with the completion of that, last novel. Ib filled his thoughts —haunted him continually. He could not, shako ib off, try as he would. It was planned for a purpose. He knew ib. This was as true bo him as was bhe fact that the appearance of the novel had increased his reputation. It was read and criticised, and ho was criticised. Ho knew thab, too. At times he believed that ib was no novel; bhab ib was real life ; bhab he was bhe hero. Ab such times ho felb a morbid certainty bhab ho could only dispel with a fierce struggle that he was going mad; that his overtaxed brain could endure no more, and had given way before the intensity of this blow. Physically he had changed very much as well as mentally. ■ The easy conversational powers that made him such a charming companion before wero replaced by a gravity that was almost depressing. Sometime? ho would even start when he was addressed, _as though his mind was wandering so far that it was painful to recall it. These things were noted and criticised, as well as tho peculiarities of his novel. And' in this way he grew to shun society, and by degrees drifted back to New York much sooner than he had planned to do. The greater number of his friends were among the mountains or at tho seashore, and the popular novelist lived very quietly in his suite of rooms at the Fifth Avenue Hotel. But it would have been much better for him to have continued in his travelling, for the quiet life increased rather than diminished his gloomy train of thought and his excessive nervousness. Ho prepared notes for a new manuscript, but did even this in such a spasmodic, disjointed fashion as to tend to intensify his already unsettled mind.

Ho was growing irritable in temper and difficult to please. Downing often assured himself that he would endure such a life no longer; but Downing was attached to hi 3 master, and the threat passed harmlessly. Then, one day, as late summer was almost imperceptibly merging into autumn, a new shock changed the entire course of Walker Paling's life. And yet, when it came upon him, it seemed to him that' it was for this he had been waiting all summer. Ib fell upon him suddenly, and loib him sbunned for a bime, but he rose out of ib a new man, sbrongor, nobler and more self-rolianb. It was berriblo, bub necessary to his future happiness. Paling was sitting at his desk, aimlessly turning over the neatly-cut slips upo.i \\ hich 1113 notes wero written ; he was reading fragments of them as ho ran them over in his hands, adding to this one or that as he thought advisable. Ho was arguing with himself whether or not he should begin upon this new manuscript at onco or leave it until his mind was more clear. As tho latter thought came to him he smiled bitterly, thinking how hopeless it was that over his mind should clear become of the shadow upon it. And then it was that Downing entered, announcing thab there were callers for his master.

Paling frowned impatiently, and bade his man say that he was engaged and would not bo disturbed. They were no friends of his, Downing assured him—no one whom he had ever seen so far as ho could remember, and why should he be troubled by strangors when he could scarcely endure bho presence of his friends under such circumstances ns bhe presenb?

But Downing found it rather more difficulb bo debaiii tlie callers than such a simple duty had seemed. They firmly refused to leave without seeing Paling, and hearing tho continued conversation at the door, Paling himself, greatly annoyed, passed into his eitbing-room that he mighb inform bhese troublesome callers bhab he could nob bo dobained from his work. But as he entered from his inner room, those at the outer door would nob be pub off by bhe valeb. bub en bored very quiebly and with an authority thab ho dared nob resist. The astonished and rather angry novelist paused half-way across the room, eyeing the intruders.

' I beg your pardon,' said one of bhe sbrangors, courteously, bub wibh bhat peculiarly impressive air of aubhoriby bhab made ibself felb from bhe first. ' This is Mr Paling, I believe ?'

'' Thab is my name, sir,' was the cold reply. 'May I inquire whab broughb you horo in my private room in bhis sbrange manner ?'

The stranger bowed. Ho made a deprecating gesture with one hand, and hi 3 groy eyes darkened.

* I came to explain my errand,' he said quietly. 'If you will grant us a few moments' private conversation wibh you, you shidl hear whab broughb us bo you.'

The angry frown deepened upon Paling's brow. Half scornfully he mobioned toward the inner room.

' What possible private conversation you can have with me,' he said, haughtily, ' I cannot imagine, gentlemen. Bub you aro ab libcrby to make your errand known.'

' I shall make it known in as few words as possible,' said the stranger, quietly. ' I have mob you, Mr Paling, bub doubtless you have forgotten me. it was only during one evening, and you me6b too many poople to remember one. My name is Graham-Doctor Graham, as you will see by this card.' With the same quiet, courteous authority, ho laid a strip of card upon the desk noa* which he stood, for lie would not accept Paling's cold request for them to be seated.

'My friend is Doctor Farwell, Mr Paling. Wo are residents of the town in Connecticut where a friend of yours has an eababe. I think, even though you have forgotten me, you have not forgotten Lee Price?'

A slow, deep rod dawned in Paling's face, and for an instant his eyes wavered before Doctor Graham's flashing, steady gaze. Then in a tide came over him the remembrance of what ho had endured, how much he had suffered through the sister of Lee Price, and with clenched hands and eyes burning with anger he turned upon them.

' Have I forgotten Lee Price ?' ho demanded, wibh sternly suppressed passion. ' Ask me if I have forgotten the brother of bhe devil, and I shall answer :"No !" Ask me if I have forgotten the subtle poison of a serpent that once has stuns me, and "No 1" and '* A'o '." I shall still reply ! The name signifies to me the culmination of every evil under the sun!' The two physicians stood silent and motionless during this outburst of passion. They had anticipated possible anger upon the part of the novelist, but anger toward themselves, not toward the woman who had left her home for him.

' I regret if I have wakened unpleasant)

memories, Mr Paling,' ?a> _ Graham, gravely, bub wo have a mystery to clear up, and you arc the one to whom' to come, I behove __„ have recenfcly isaucii a novel, under the peculiar title of " The Drama of a _ ife » Q{ __„__. k _ ow bhab it has created a good deal of criticism I have nob come to tell you this. Bub I understand that ib was written under strange circumstances. Also'—very distinctly and slowly ho spoke-'thab ib was written >r „ purpose. Is this true, Mr Paling ?

For a moment the novelist's face turned deadly pale, and he reached oub his hand to steady himself at the desk • then, with a strong effort, ho regained his self-control, and answored them. His voice sounded Strange and constrained, even to himself. ' One s works always should be for a purpose. Doctor Graham,'he said. 'In that respect, I trust that my work is nob different frdin thab of obliers, and 1 fail bo recognise your right to interfere with either my work or myself.'

Doctor Graham bowed gravely. 1 1 have asked yocr pardon, Mr Paling,' he said. 'We come under peculiar circumstances. Lee Price has been ill, from tho effect o! most subtle poison admiuisbered by a member of his household, who was bribed by Olive Price, bhe woman who ha 3so long passed as your wife—' ' Who w my wife,' interrupted Paling, in a low bone, his hands falling bo his side, a painful expression of pride and humiliation and sorrow in his eves.

Graham's face changed instantly. Hi 3 gesture of entreaty for pardon was swift and kindly. % ' I regret my hasty words,' he said, in a voice peculiarly gentle. ' i judged from rumour, Mr Paling. Bub whab I wished to say'is very simple truth. Wo are led to believe, from this novel of yours, whose plot is so remarkably like bhe real plot, thab you planned this act, or wrote it, under tho influence of—' slightest hesitation, tho faintest pause — 'your wife ! This latter charge is made by one who has reason to know her power, and we call upon you to hear what you have to say in answer. It is a grave matter, in which a lite lay in tho balance againsb death, but we grant, you the opportunity to clear yourself, if you can. I trust that ib will be possible for you to do so.'

' The evidence is unmistakable, regarding tho attempted poisoning,' added Doctor Farwoll, quietly. ' The proof must be as powerful, to clear- those who arc accused of the ac,t.'

Paling drew himself up haughtily. His eyes were dark with anger once more. All trace of humiliation was gone.

' Why should you accuse mc of such an act?' he demanded, fiercely. 'Because I write of murder and plan such deeds in fiction as any novelist does, is it necessary ttiab I should abbempb them in real life? Pardon me, gentlemen, but your zeal overbalances your good judgment.'

'Our grounds for the accusation,' said Doctor Graham, evenly, still instinctively respecting the proud man before them, 'are tho knowledge that you first planned thisdeed in your novel and that the woman who has assisted you in the compositionpardon me again for referring to your wife —of much of your work is the woman who desires her brother's death. The proof is very clear and looks rather black for you. Where is'—that slight pause between the words—'your wife ?' Paling, sensitive upon this subject very evidently, frowned darkly and his hands again were clenched. ' But I swear to you, gentlemen—' he began, vehemently, yet as chough he was speaking between his teeth. Then he pausod. Speech died upon his lips. His self-defence fell flab before bhe accusing presence of the woman herself. She entered among them, pallid and silent, her eyes looking miles beyond them, utterly oblivious of them as she pausod in the doorway, no sound bttntyfng her presence.

' Mrs 'Paling 1' exclaimed Jack Graham, under his breath, falling back a 6bep as he saw her.

Doctor Farwell said nothing, but quick comprehension of the scene flashed upon

' Olive 1 Olive !' Paling muttered, in a smothered voice, aB though he felt that there was no hope for him when she was near. His pride and anger died away. The gloomy despair on his face was pathetic. It moved even the physicians to sympathy. They knew enough of the woman to give him their pity, unasked. * I have heard your accusation, bhe woman said, in her slow, sofb voice, looking ab no one but Paling, and upon his eyes her own burned intensely. 'I have come, Walker Paling, to prevent your perfidy. Just now you would have sworn to a ho had I not known of your intention and thwarted you ! Listen l' My brother is poisoned ! Perhaps he is dead at this moment! I hope that is so 1 There is no love betweon us—nothing bub habe! Ho habes mo as much as such a weak nature can hate; and I'—she spread out her hands toward them in a passionate gesture, though her oves never moved from Paling's eyes—'l hate him so fiercely thab with my own hands I could poison him—strangle him—be rid of him in any way so that he bo dead ! 'You swore to me that he should die 1 You wrote this novel for me that the world learn the aucienb arb of secret poisoning 1 / learned ib under bhe tuition of a friend! I kept the knowledge to myself until I thought.'the world should know 1 There are many people who would be better dead. Death is easy to arrange if one is patient, I gave you my knowledge of poisonous drugs thab you might know whab bo do when bhe time arrived. You have'your novel; the plot was excellent; bub bhe novel was nothing without the act which followed. You were to be the hero of a real drama—a* yon knew 1 When the act is completed you shall answer the ac-cusation-for you arc guilty I < Paling's face was covered by Ins hands. The old belief that had been with him so constantly that the novel was but a dream, and he was the actual actor in an actual drama, returned upon him, and he had no word bo offer in self-defence-did nob even know to" a certainty whether or nob he were guilty as the woman said. He was utterly humiliated. His hands trembled with agitation. His lips could frame no word. Was that proof, 'he asked himself, that he committed this act ? Bub as she finished, Paling burned upon her in concentrated desperation and humiliation. She was his wife, as he had nfiirmod to these men. The truth was never spoken, for she refused with her tiger fierceness to bo claimed as his wile, but she was his wife, and he must defend her honour against, any slur upon it! His eyes did not flinch from hers now. 'Olive 1 ' he said in a voice that proved his powerful self-restraint. ' Olive, can you not be merciful ? Have I not obeyed yT5u up to the last command ? Could I commit murder oven for you ?' ' Yes ' she said coldly, with a scornful gesture. * If I desire it, Walker Paling. My power over you is always supreme. I came to you from the border of the spiritland ; how could you successfully combat an ambassador of justice from heaven? You accomplished my design, but you are no murderer. My brother poisoned my father. Belladonna is powerful when rightly used. This act was justice, for my father often made my mother unhappy. Should ray brother die would nob that, too, be justice? Did I nob tell you thab the novel wou'-d be useless, did ib nob impel others to like action ?' A smothered groan was his Only answer. Could he truthfully say that this was not so ? Hf.r flaming eyes were upon his ; whab could ho answer? Bub as Doctor Graham, up to this time a silent listener with his companion, stepped forward to lay a detaining hand upon the i woman's arm, she turned without a trace of

hasto, and crossing bho ouber room before they could stop her, she passed through tho door and was gone, leaving them gazing blankly ab tho closed door.

' We shall make no scone,' said Docbor Graham quietly, burning upon bhe mobiouless novoiisb, ' bub we musb hold you to answer bhis charge, Mr Paling.'

(To be Continued.)