THE PEER AND THE WOMAN

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 237, 3 October 1908, Page 13

THE PEER AND THE WOMAN

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM Author of "A Monk of Cruta," etc.

BOOK 11. CHAPTER XXI. PHILIP NKILLSON'S STATKMF.NT: KIS£X FKOM TDK DEAD. Sot for the first time in the world's i it seemed as though one of the j fairest spots on earth hud been chosen for | U-ene of blood. Close to the edge of, t . cliff, and separated from the villa tra thick plantation of pine tree-, was a iooth plateau of springy, green turf. shut off on one side by the M-a. and only 00C e«ible from the grounds by a windin,, path through the plantation. The freshest of morning breezes was landing | the dark tops of the slim, graceful pine j trees It was tho most exhilarating | period of the whole day. Night had i passed away, but morning hud barely , Standing on the very edge of the cliff. j bareheaded, with his white hair flowing I j n the breeze, stood M. de Feurget. He I was in his shirt and trousers only, and j he was leaning slightly on a long, bare sword. He looked very Knlike a man about to fisht for his life: more, indeed. as though 7ie had just come unscathed apd triumphant through some fierce ordeal- . Some slight noise which 1 made in chancing my position attracted his notice, S i,d he turned round and -aw mc. "Seillson!" he cried. "You here! Has your master returned?" he added eagerly. I shook mv head. "I have but lately come from the hotel, sir." I said. "Nothing has been heard of bun." ' : Ah7 He turned away from mc. and 8 shade of disappointment passed over his jace. I felt that I must speak, if only to arrest the current of his thoughts. "It's a beautiful sunrise, sir," I remarked, scarcely knowing what I said. "Ay. Xeillson. it is." he answered. "A beautiful sunrise. 1 shall see it set from another world, please Cod," ho added, softly. . , "You are going to fight a duel, sir?' "I am. A duel to the death," he said. gmilins- "Fetch my coat here, Neillson." he went on. "That's right. Feel in that pocket and take out a letter." I did so. It was addressed to my Blaster. "Xeillson. when I am dead, as I shall be when the sun comes up from behind those clouds. I lav.a charge upon you — a solemn charge. You must find your master —I care not where he is—you must find him. and give him that letter. Do you promise 7 "I promise," I answered faintly. "But "Xay. no buts," he interrupted. "You wnild have mc take courage, but let mc tell you this, Xeillson —no bridegroom on the eve of his marriage ever longed for the morrow as I long for death. 1 have lived in the knowledge of such guilt as the most hardened criminal on earth might have shrunk from confessing. My existence has been a lie and a living death. D'Aubron's sword will end it, and 1 shall escape at la.-t." There was a click of the little wicket gate leading from the plantation, and 3lr. Carlyon and Hr. Brown appeared, followed at a little distance by M. d'Anton and a stranger. Just as they reached us M. d'Aubron touched Mr. Carlyon en the shouldw. '"Permit mc to introduce my friend. Jlr. Vachey—Mr. Vachcy, Mr. Carlyon."' The slightest of recognitions passed between the two men. Tlie two seconds withdrew to a little distance, where their conversation did not reach mc. But it was very brief, and distinguished on Mr. Carbon's side by the most icy politeness. In a very few minutes the preliminaries were over, and tne tw omen were standing face to face on guard. Then the signal was given. For about a quarter of an hour it seemed to mc that. M. de Feurget had all the advantage. Then he seemed suddenly to tire and to fence less vigorously and scarcely to attempt a single repass. M. d'Aubron grew less cautious, and very nearly paid the penalty with his life. As it was he was slightly wounded by a deadly thrust in tierce which he only half parried, and was compelled to rest for a moment. When they resumed. M. de Feurget. appeared for the first time to put forth all his powers. A dozen times he had his opponent's life in his hands by the success of some brilliant feint which 51. d'Aubron utterly failed to parry, but on each occasion he lowered his sword without doing any serious mischief. The end seemed to all of us assured, and I began to think of this prophecy with a smile Suddenly there came an interruption. The intense, almost breathless, stillness was woken by the sound of quick, hurrying footsteps through the plantation, and we all turned to look. With his hand upon the gate stood my master, pale and travel-stained, and by his side was a tall, white-haired woman, of stately carriage. dressed in the long, plain robe of a Sister of Mercy. I looked at her for a moment, and then a great cry burst from tty lips. Was 1 dreaming.' or had this ttoman risen from the dead? Surely tlii, *as Ceeile d'Augeville, she whom my filter had loved and married, she on ""rose fair, white arm he had clasped the bracelet—she whose hideous fate was *V« before mc. the victim of that murder ""inch it was certain madness for mc to think upon. awful cry rang out to the still Burning sky. and 1 saw her throw up 'warms in horror. 1 followed her rapt P» and 1 saw at once what had happed. Lying on the ground, supported ™ Mr. Carlvon's arms, was M. de Feurwith his adversary's rapier through his lungs. ' CHAPTER XX If. rT T r-r, N 3 TLSON ' S STATEMENT CONtLtDED: TDK DIAL MURDER. J*w M d'Aubron withdraw bis sword from his opponent's bom-' JW-Mpe it with devilish coolness upon! fcJT 15 "'' 1 sa w the wounded man's eves 777 v*» glazed, horrible intensity SJthe tall, black-robed woman-phosl her then-at the wicket sate, I saw her niove swiftly - for J over the sn)ootn turf - ai "d- bending! Vnl! j-' " aze anxiously into his con "ased iaee. * I fe SUe woula have taken his hand, but 1 low aSged lt aua . v trnm her with a' ".moaning cry. Most fearful to *it-' he ***, frantic horn..- with which -nrank back from the pale, pitying *V ° cl °se to his. 7 •Hare Ihe cried - •'° h < mv «o6\ ! ffL v i?: I'm dying. I toll you! Away! Away!" " ! to 77* ° ut hU hands *•*<■»•'•••• a" Uiougu! look rf ° Ut tbe Pi = lv of her. With a ant- „ I W ° nder in her -"aim face, she Si "if kneoS b >- hL = si '"<' and whi & hut tw t0 h,ra —. ret - not so softly: tte«n, ,\ my quickened hearing caught "• •'"ad of her clear tone.

"Victor! Victor! Don't you know mc? it is not Marie! It is 1, her sister. (Vcile." lie looked at her half doubtfully, but in ;' moment or two he was convinced. "I thought that you were dead," he whispered. "Dead to the world. Victor! Dead to all former tics! Yet. as you see. in the Hc-.li alive. I have come from a seclusion which I, had hoped never to have left to undertake a mournful task."' A great relief crept slowly into his face. He drew a long breath, and tried to raise himself a little. I approached and. kneeling down, supported him in my arms. "Heaven has sent you both here.*' he saiil in a firmer tone. "1 am thankful! Stand here by my side and listen. 1 am crossing the threshold of death, and I have an awful confession to make." "I have come to hear it. Victor." she answered. "All is blank mystery, to us now. You must clear it up." "God give mc strength!" he prayed. Then he glanced around, but it was needless. The others had left us, and we four were alone. "My time is short." he went on, speaking with difficulty in a hoarse, broken undertone. "Listen, all of you. Ay, come close to mc- —as close as you can. You will shrink far enough away presently. The people round here, what is it they call mc". Pious, good, benevolent! All, the hypocrisy of it! Listen: I ani the blackest sinner upon God's earth! "Cecile. you know how I loved your sister. It was the one overmastering passion of my life. For her sake I gave up my dreams of the Church. To win her love I renounced without a single regret the calling which before had seemed to mc the only means of attaining to earthly happiness. 1 became her blind slave, a hanger-on, a parasite at her father's house, a sharer, although an unwilling one. in pastimes and scenes which before I bad looked upon only with scorn. And with what did she repay mc? With her love? Alas, no! She married mc, it is true, but it was a sorry compact. In less than a week my happiness was blasted for ever. To you, Ceeile. her sister. 1 say nothing of the early days of our wedded life. I will only say that we were not happy, and before -what we called our honeymoon was over I had discovered her secret. She never loved mc. Worse than that, she loved some one else. She loved your father. Lord Alceston—she had always loved him—and she was a woman who knew how to love. She had married mc merely because she was homeless and 1 was rich. 1 was only a cipher in her eyes —rather hateful to her than otherwise. At the end of the year she told mc that she could live with mc no longer, and we separated. "It broke my heart; but I crept into solitude, and hid my grief from the world. I sent .Marie, our daughter, to a convent school, and 1 lived here alone, fighting with my trouble and seeking to ease it by lightening the sorrows of others. Year after year passed away, and age stole upon mc before my time. My heavy burden of grief jjrew no less— still I endured. At regular intervals I heard of your sister. Ceeile. Think of mc as meanly as you like. Ceeile: I had her watched by private agents, and so keenly that her slightest action 1 knew of. By accident, one day she discovered it. and from that time she refused to touch one penny of my money. She kept her word, anil from that time she supported herself. "Kven then I continued to help her, although indirectly, and unknown to her, ( and 1 continued also to have her watched, for I could not bear the thought that she might have to struggle against sickness or want I heard of her visit to you, Ceeile. and when she returned to Paris, alas! that visit bad suggested a fatal idea to her. She heard from you that the Earl of Alceston believed you dead and had married again. Then she planned a wicked thing, for which, God knows, she paid an awful penalty. "J knew—l always knew, alas!—that Marie had loved your father, Lord Alceston. When he preferred you, Ceeile. that love changed into another feeling. How far Lord Alceston was to blame, I cannot tell. But Marie must have believed herself injured, or she would never have nursed her feelings through so many years ami then concentrated them in' an ill-fated scheme for revenge. She had a bracelet made like yours, Ceeile. She took humble lodgings in London, and one night she sent him a note telling him that his wife, Ceeile, lived, and bidding him go to her at once. I knew this, for I bad followed her to London with the one hope of saving her honour and myself from shame. 1 "had taken my daughter with mc in the last despairing hope that the sight of her child, whom she had never seen since babyhood, might soften her."' Suddenly then; was a rush of blood from his mouth and he fell back ghastly pale, with the agony of death written on his pallid features and luminous eyes. Almost at the same moment the wicket gate opened and a doctor and the village priest in his long robes appeared. Tlie former hurried up, and. dropping on his knee, made a hasty examination, but he shook his head almost immediately. "Haemorrhage has set in," he pronounced. "M. de Feurget. I can do nothing for you. Alas! you have but a few minutes to live!"' He stood back, and the village priest took bis place. A breath of fresh morning air swept softly across the plateau. It seemed to revive him. The stream of blood had ceased, and he motioned to us to raise him. "Cod give mc strength to finish,' he pra yed. "Father, stand by my side. You have heard my confession; you have seen mv agony! You know all. Come nearer," Lord' Alceston. 1 can -only whisper.'' "It was at night I went to see her. For two days 1 had lingered about the door, lacking the courage to go in and plead with her. 1 went with pity and love inmy heart. 1 went to make one last appeal: to tell her of our child, and to save her from shame. My old love, which had lived always with mc, was. still as strong as ever. I would have done anything in the world she had asked. 1 only wanted her back again, cruelly though she. had used mc. "Oh", my God! my God!" lie moaned. "It was a cruel thing to send mc there that oue night of all others and at that hour. I met him —your father. Lord Alceston —coining away from the bouse. How I kept mv hands from him then 1 '.-annot tell. "But I did. I let him pass without word or sign. 1 went to her. t was cruel how she received mc.

She never wished to look upon my face again, she said. She hated mc. She hated our child. She would not hear mc speak. She bade mc go. In less than five minutes I left the house a raving madman. I followed Lord Alceston home. I saw him enter the house by a private door, and in his haste he left tlie key outside. 1 took it, and in a few minutes I followed him softly. 1 was in a great, dimly-lit Toom lined | with books — his library: but it was empty. I walked restlessly up and down, waiting for litm-, but he did not come. In an evil moment my attention was attracted by a long row of curious, gleaming daggers in a dark oak cabinet. From the moment my eyes fell upon the bright steel 1 became a devil. I felt the desire to kill spring up within mc. From that moment 1 Mas a murderer." A low moan seemed (o creep from Lord Alccwtnu's lips, ami 1 saw the. woman by his side shudder with a horror too deep for expression. But neither interrupted the dying man. "11 ever man in the world was mad 1 was mad then. I listened. From another part of the house 1 could hear the strains of music and the sound of many voices. But there was no one near —■ no one at hand to disturb mc. "1 took one of the daggers—the one with the bluest steel and the sharpest point 1 could find. Then 1 let myself out of the room by the private door and carefully pocketed the key. I rush, ed away. I bought a disguise at a low rag-shop on the way. The cunning of the devil seemed to come to mc. I got an empty room next to hers, and when the house was silent 1 stole in lo her. I killed her: 1 killed her. with ber beautiful face flashing its hatred at mc —with the mocking, scornful words still upon her lips! Then 1 hurried from the house back to Grosvenor Square. The thirst for blood was upon mc. A maniacal fury seemed to burn in my veins. 1 stole again into the dimly lit library. Still it was empty. But 1 waited. ! "Towards morning he came. T heard I his slow footsteps outside, and 1 hid myself. I watched Jiiin sit down at his j desk, ami 1 planned to myself how I would kill him. 1 meant to strangle him: but as 1 crept out from my hidingplace 1 made some slight noise. lie started and looked round. I just managel to escape observation, and while he was ringing for his servant, 1 slipped behind the screen and out into the pas"Through the keyhole 1 watched you, Neillson, arrive. 1 saw you search the room. T heard Lord Alceston decide that it must have been his fancy. He settled down to write again, and soon with added caution I stole into the room. I drew another dagger from the case, and, God help mc, I killed him! "I rushed out into the street, wilh his death-cry ringing in my ears. At the first breath of cold air sanity began to return. The instinct of self-preserva-tion came upon mc, and 1 turned and fled. 1 went to Dover and came back again, half determined to give myself up. Then my senses slowly returned. ! and I kr.cn- what 1 had done! 1 tlioufrht | of mv daughter, and for her sake T held | my peace. Still I was reckless. On the j pretence of identifying her I looked once more into my wife's face, and unknown, unrecognised, I followed her to the grave. Then we came back here, and ray tortures began. Day by day J lived in a very hell of remorse and agony. Another man was suspected! If he j should be arrested I must give myself j up. Marie would know all—would know that her father was a murderer! Such ! a murderer! The anguish 1 have suffered no words of mine could depict. Hell! can offer no greater torment than corlhf has punished mc with. And now sh<7 will know! Marie will know! She will j hate her father! She will loathe bis' memory for ever! (Hi, Death, come to j mc quickly, or I shall die a raving mad-1 man!" ; It was an awful moment —an awful sight to look upon. A dying man fighting for his last breath with such words, upon bis lips! Strong though lie was, my master was shaking in every limb with emotion, and tbe hlai-k-robed wo- j man who stood by bis side bail turned! away with her face hidden in her hands, ' as though the sight were 100 terrible for her. The priest, with trembling fingers, drew out a cross from his rob'" and held it before the eyes of the dying man. but he pushed him almost roughly , away. "Lord Alceston,*' he cried. There was no answer. I saw my ' master shrink away, compassion slrugg- ! ling in vain with horror in his white j face. "Lord Alceston. come nearer. In a few minutes I shall stand before an- '• other Judge to answer for my crime. 1 do not ask forgiveness. But .Marie! j She will know all! She will curse, my! memory! I shall have robbed her ot ' you. the man she loved! All!" We followed his outstretched trembling fingers. At the gate, loosely clad jin a plain white dressing-gown, with | her long hair streaming in the breeze, stood Marie. She was gazing at us as ! though petrified with horror, clinging i with one arms to a slender pine tree for support, and with the other pressed I against her forehead. ; "Mv father! My father!" she cried.the words at last bursting from her fro- ' 7.en lips. "What is the matter? What ! has happened? ls he ill? Can none, of you tell mc?" She looked towards each of us in turn. None of us could speak. With trembling fingers she strove to open the pos- j tern. The dying man shivered all over! and covered his face with bis bands. j I glanced towards my master. JI is face was deadly pale, and bis lips were , moving as though in prayer. Suddenly j he stooped down. " Lrtok up." be whispered, "and hid, I your daughter farewell. She shall think i of you always as she does now. As her ! husband 1 swear it. You alone shall j answer for your sins; and may Cod have ; j mercy upon you!" j Like magic was the efTeet. of che hoarse i i whispered words. Again the light] leaped into the dying man's eves, and peace shone in bis softened face. The i priest, again held tbe cross before, his' eyes, nnu this time be nodded and smiled ! faintly. One hand Marie grasped audi : carried it to her lips, where the hot, \ scalding tears fell fast upon it; the other Lord Alceston took and held in i his own. \ A moment's deep stillness and it was over. As suddenly as it had come the light died out of his fast-dimmed eves. and tbe smile slowly faded from his lips. But the peace remained. , THE END. !