ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXX, Issue 293, 11 December 1899, Page 6

ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE.

By MARY ANGELA DICKERS.

Author of "Prisoners of Silence, "Against the Tide," "Some Women's Way," "Cross Currents," "A Mere "Cypher," "Valiant Ignorance," etc etc., etc. CHAPTER XXV (Continued.) Rachel and .Hamer stood where they had been left, staring- blankly after her. The door swung' slowly to and closed with a click. The sound seemed to rouse them. It brought home to them the consciousness that they were together and alone together, which had been absolutely suspended for a moment by their unspeakable amazement. A dark flush of colour overspread Hamer's face. He turned abruptly without glancing at her, and walked away to the window. He looked like a man to whom returning freedom of thought brings pain which is hardly to be borne. Rachel turned her ej'es as she moved and followed him with them. Her expression was quite undefinable. She watched him in silence, and at last a certain reckless self-defiance seemed to gain ground until it dominated everything else. "So you got the telegram ?" she said, in a hard,'abrupt voice! "How was dt you didn't come before ?" He turned sharply, the flush fading from his face till it was- quite white. " Telegram," he said. " What telegram ?" Rachel looked at him narrowly. ■ " I—that is to say she—sent you a telegram this, morning." She bit her lip fiercely as she corrected herself, and tried to pass over her first word with, an air of careless indifference. But Hamer caught at it instantly. ' "You sent- a telegram ?" he said. " Do you mean that you sent for me— that you sent for me to interfei'e ?" " How did you find us, then ?" said Rachel. She' seemed to be putting aside his words, to be trying- recklessly to draw him away from the truth for which he was groping. " Did you trace us for yourself ? How did you come across —him ? How was it done ?" "We got a clue the night before last," cried ' Hamer incoherently, "We've been following it up ever since. He, Sternhold, as an old friend of mine. When she showed me that picture I knew it. But what does all that matter ? Rachel, don't keep me in suspense. You know what I saw when I came into this room. I saw Violet Drummond in your arms, being held by you, while that scoundrel — Rachel, tell me that it wasn't so. Tell me that you wanted to save her—that you meant to save her. You don't know what a hell I'm in. Tell me." He had crossed the room to her and they were face to face and close together. There was an extraordinary struggle in Rachel's face, and -for a moment the issue seemed doubtful. Then • she turned away with a fierce abrupt gesture. " What does it matter to you ?" she said. There was a catch in her voice. "It matters,this much," said Hairier. "You're everything- in the world to me. I never knew what love meant until I realised, that I loved you—loved you just as you are, with all your genius, all your limitations, all your sweetness, and all your temper. Rachel, if you've done what you seem to have done —if you've had any hand in this diabolical* plan of your brother's—the

light of all my life goes out for ever." " Then it must go," she cried. She faced round on him suddenly. " For it was my plan. Not his at all. I suggested it. I carried it out, T meant to marry her to him. You'd bettor know me as • I really am—at "•'•'.l don't believe you!" he cried/ 1. do know yon. I know you as I've never known another human creature. 1 know you're incapable of doing- what you say"; unless there's something- behind that 1 don't understand. Rachel, I you shall tell me the truth—the truth. 1 mean to have it." He was beside himself with pain and longing1. His impulsive, emotional nature was all let loose, and he caught her in his arms and held her to him. And under his touch the last remnant of Rachel's self-control vanished. "The truth!" she cried. She was struggling wildly' to free herself, and in the futility of her efforts she hardly realised what she was saying. '" Well, here it is then ! I hated her. I hated her because you were a fool about her. You feli in love with a pretty .face, like any shallow boy, and never saw that there Was nothing behind it. You fell in love with her genius!—save the mark. And you never saw that it ■ was your own genius that lay behind. Oh,-1 could have killed you for being so easily taken in. Did you never recognise'your own thoughts, your own ideas your own suggestions when you saw her play Virginie ? Did it never once occur to you that she played it exactly as we had always said it should be played ? Did you never realise for an instant that I taught it to i ier _that I made her our mouthpiece—yours and mine? That I. taught her every word, every tone, look and gesture—that it was I who played the part—l, from first to last, and not that empty-headed girl at all ?" With a last determined effort she wrenched herself out of his hold, and fell back a step. Hamer made no attempt to detain her. I His arms fell'by his side, and he stood looking at her, his deep-set eyes glowing. " She was your mouthpiec ■?" he said. ■'" You taught her ? You were my Virginie, then ! I might have known it !" . " You might," she retorted, " but you never did. You wanted a Virginie—l gave you one. I found out that I could teach her and I worked upon Cecil's need of money to make him take the matter up. We knew who she was —I've told you that before — and we had an old grudge against. her and her father. , Why should she have been born with every chance in life ■ and I with nothing ? Oh, there were j motives enough and to spare to make me do as I did !" She was quivering from head to foot, her face was convulsed with the passion in which all the pent-up emotion of her life was finding expression, at last. And she turned upon him wildly as she broke again into fierce speech, " Then you came back," she cried. " And you fell down at the feet of that beautiful statue and worshipped it. You quarrelled with me about her. You made yourself hateful to me. Do you wonder, then, that I would have done anything—anything in the world, to g-et her out of the way ?" " But you didn't do it," said Hamer. The light in his eyes was growing deeper, moment by moment".1 "What does it matter what wild thing you set your hand to in a■ moment of passion ? You couldn't do it; your nature would not let you. You sent for me to save her. Rachel, don't speak yet. Listen to me. I've been a perfect fool. Biit I knew it before you told me so. I've known it ever since I saw you last. I saw my Vir-

_ . . ginie in Violet Drummond, and V was carried away through that. ,t had an idea that that -kind qf beautiful gentle woman was i Uv .ideal. But I never even thought I loved her until you ■quajltp* led with me. and I deiier! you in i| v own mind and told myself that my Virginie was the woiiiaii I wanted fop my "wife. But 1 knew it wasn't so. [ wouldn't: own it to myself, but I \0& that my ideal was quite a differ^ j woman, and that my Jove for her l W( j i been growing in my heart under. a hundred other names In-Core 1 £$& saw Violet Drnm:nomi. Rachel, won't you forgive me ? We m*^ j made for one another, [ b lieve. ■tyjij you not look into your own heart ay ] see if there's nothing, nothing thgv f I that answers the want in iauffli I Rachel !" I She was still standing opposite *„ ; him, but her'little figure had beguij-ij, tremble as Rachel Cochrnne h:ul nevei trembled in her life before. *Qrifta suddenly she put up her hands whj, an odd fierce gesture and covered || face. "I can't help it." she said. ;'«| must tell you. J did send fo you. '| j i did try to save her. and it was becaiii; jl loved you so. Oh, don't you under. ! stand? It was all because I \ o^ you so." The friends of Andrew Hamer* % ways spoke of the marriage with ''%^\ person," as for some time they insist, ed on calling Rachel, as an irretrievv able mistake. "Her brother, you know, is absa lutely disreputable—quite shocking,in they said to one another. ° ' They were not greatly appeased %■ the fact that Cecil Cochrane'.' havn™ escaped scot-free in the affair of Y;ty let Drummond, mainly owing to ]{?x father's refusal to pro.secute, commit, ted himself hopelessly in a swindlins transaction with Kastrick soon after \ and was obliged to leave Eng-lnn'cl! ! j His subsequent career was marked hi its downward path by rations episodes' which appeared from time to time \{' the papers, and roused the righteoiij indignation of Hamer's family. .Bof as Hamer had not asked his friends' consent to his marriage, he was'nbV greatly troubled by their disapproval, The happiness of his married life, fla perfect sympathy that developed be. tween husband and wife, the Jam share in his success as a playwright which Hamer owed to the genius oj his wife—all these things were know'c only to the two people most concern. cd. Only Andrew Hamer realised \'n the full the sweetness and strength nt the womanliness which replaced ths bitterness and cynicism of Rachel's j youth. Only Rachel realised to t!if> I full" the'power of the settled chara^ ter into which Hamer's erratic impul« siveness developed. Andrew Hamer and Luciaii Sternhold met one another now and Jtsajir as the years went on. Lncian Stern' hold and Violet were married verj shortly after her return home—and to' them,, but not to Rachel and he^ySfl band, came little children. No reiio^ lection of those six months came bactfto Violet, nor did her memory mi: again fail her. She became a gentle,' kindly, rather stupid woman, ample satisfied with her home, her husband' I and her children. And she and'fiaj : chel never met again. -S^lla' ' [THE END.] '• i