THE WOMAN OF THE IRON BRACELETS.

Press, Volume LI, Issue 8733, 3 March 1894, Page 2

THE WOMAN OF THE IRON BRACELETS.

Br Fb.a>'k Barrett. (Continued from last Saturday.) CHAPTER XLI.—" At What A Prick.' , I had scarcelt risen from the table when St. John entered. "Have you had your dinner, my dear fellow?" I asked. " Yes, jes. What's the matter?" he demanded, my voice and gloomy looks betraying my dejection. " Where is Mary I" he added, clancing quickly at the table and then again at mc. " Gone," I whisperad. He closed hl3 lip 3 firmly, and clenched his hands like oue nerving himself for a terrible ordeal. But he made uo comment, only fixing his penetrating eyes on mc to read the worst from ray face. " Come into my room, Hal; you shall know all now," said I. He followed mc silently, and stood at the table a3 if waiting for judgment while 1 opened my desk and took out the packet. I laid it down, beside Binet and Fere's book, saying: "These will explain the thing more briefly than I can." He took up the volame quickly, read the title, and drawing a long breath put it down slowly. • " That is the secret of his power, then!" he exclaimed. " Yea —do you know anything about it ? " " What I have read in magazines and papers—«nough to make mc doubt if there is anything in ifc but trickery and fraud." " You can doubi; no longer. This is the explanation of everything that has been incomprehensible ia your mother's case — and Olive's." '* And has she fallen under his powerMary?" ha cried. " No, no ! She i 3 made of stronger stuff than that. What she has done has been done with open eyos, with the sole motive of saving your mother and sister, and for your sake. Hal." He snatched up the packet, read Mary's note, glanced at the uppermost letter, and then dropping them as though they were some loathsome uncleanliness, he sank iuto a chair and covered his face with his hands. I said nothing, and quietly fetched Ihe spiric case. But at the clinkisig of the giasa, as I was about; to pour him a dram, he roused hirtiself and checked mc. •' No," he cried savagely, ** I want nc Dutch courage now. Let rne work with a clear head. " Great God !" he added in a tone of profound self-reproach," if I had been a man I might have saved the noblest woman thab lives." "My dear fellow, you know no more than I " " I knew that these women were suffering by the practices o£ that man, whatever his power was. And instead of taking him by the throat, and flinging him out of the house, I have been whining ovet my own incapacity—fretting aw;vy the mouths in maudiing inactivity, leaving it to a girl to make the eftort 19bould have made, wrecking her life, waatine my own—dallying with my infernal self-Indulgence ; she saw ifc clearly enough, and sought to rouse mc to a sense of duty, by playing on my weakness. Yet even jealousy could not move mc to stamp the life out of that roptlle." "Where are you going, Hal?" I asked uneasily, as he strode to the door. "To do my duty—what there is left to do," he answered, with such a look in his face as I had seen in Mary's when she wished she had been a man. " If you arc goingto the Court you mint let mc ero with you. You will find Lawson at home, and we can only help the women there by gentleness." It was quite darkwheD we reached the Court. Tte front door was locked, and when we knocked, we heard whispering in the hall. Presently a voice from a side window, called, "Who's there?" " I," answered St. John. " Lefc mc in." " If that's Mr St. John, we've gob orders not to adnaifc you." St. John stepped briskly over the border clapped his hands on the window sill, sprang up, and was in tue room before the wiudow could be closed. And a minute later he opened the door to mc. " Yon will take your orders from mc in future," Sitid he, turning to the frightened serTants, "or leave the house at once. I am master here now."

"It's very awkward, sir, for us," said the coachman iv weak remonstrance. " We were engaged by Mr Lawson, and he left strict injunctions that no one was to go out or come into the house while he was away." "When does he return;" , , "Don'tknow, sir; but when he do what are we to say ? " "Nothing, I shall be here to settle with him. Where is Miss St. John?"

" In the morning room, I believe, sir." We crossed the hall and entered the apartment, Sfc. John closing the door softly behind him. A reading lamp was on the table ; beyond the circle of light reflected by the shade the obscurity at the further end of the big room was so impenetrable that I could not at first see Olive, but presently I descried a dim figure cowering beyond a heavy piece of furniture, whither she had gone probably with some idea of concealment, terrified by the stern voice of her brother. I admit that his manner inspired mc also with apprehensive fear;" but this was speedily dispelled, for, catching sight of her, he called herwith the utmost gentleness:

"Livy, dear," he said, advancing; and at that sound of love and compassion she ran forward with a faint cry of joy, tottered, and fell at his feet, bowing her head in shame, yet stretching forth her hands in supplication. " I know all, dear," said St. John, seating himself on the stool by which she was kneeling, and drawing her into his arms. "More than you know yourself. Come, let mc tell you your own history, and show you how these things happened which have distracted your mind and puzzled stronger heads than yours. See, here is Dr. Harvey, who has been trying to fathom the mystery for ever so long, and has only just got a glimpse into it." "Aye, my dear, that's true enough ; and I should be still groping in the dark if my eyes had not been opened by someone with rt keeuer wife than mine—or Hal's either, as far as that," . ; The girl looked from him to mc with hone and fear and joy and amazement all mingled in his face together, ready to burst into laughter or tears—in that dangerous hysterical condition produced by the systematic practice of her villainous stepfather.

I thought it better to leave tbem together, and withdrawing very gently I made my way upstairs and knocked at tbe drawing-room door. Mrs Lawson herself admitted mc. She was alone. Her chair was drawn near the .fire, and beside it was a reading table with her books upon it. But it was obvious by her agitation that she had heard her son's voice below. She looked at mc with furtive inquiry as she closed the door.

" Yourson Harry is downstairs, Madam," said I, " and as you may suppose it is An extaordinary occasion that has brought us here at this hour—nothing less indeed than the restoration of peace and happiness to your tormented minds." •

" Peace and happiness !" she exclaimed incredulously—"in this world?"

"Yes ma'am; with gentle charitable thoughts and feelings of gratitude and love to fjc us for better. With your permission I will take a chair, for I have more to say than can be said comfortably standing."

"Love and gratitude!" she murmured, raising her hands and letting them fall on her knee* as she seated herself—" they have no place here." "But they should h* v e for one who meditates upon a hereafter. We cannot eat our food with relish unless our minds be easy; how then can we be fit to take a place in heaven with hatred and rancour gnawing at our hearts? Come, madam, since our thoughts are turned this way, do you believe that men could be possessed of devils r

"Tla written here," said she, laying her hand upon the Book. " At heart we are to-day what we were then ; if in the past, unhappy sonls might be tortured by such fiends they maybe now."

"Then, indeed, I am one of them," she cried bitterly. "Ay, truly I believe it," said I, " but as those evil spirits were cast out then, so by the grace ot heaven shall they be cast out now."

In this way, taking advantage of her mental bias, and treating her as I would a patient whose system has to be gradually prepared for the administration of certain agents, I brought her little by little to regard her case from a purely material point of view, and then explained the physiological means by which Lawson had produced those hallucinations, that caused her to regard her children as enemies. I also explained how he had practised tbe same villainous Arts upon Olive, and showed the bane motives that actuated him. Finally I revealed the purpose with which he had lfeft the Court, though I could not bring myself to mention Mary's name' in connection with this purpose, and told her how St. John, from a sense of love and duty, had come hither to protect her and his sister from tbe evil designs of Lawson, who certainly would

never again be permitted to cast a shadow upon tbeir lives. But though I argued this matter extremely trelt (to ray mind), If ailed to eonvett her eatirely from those ideas that Lawson bad fixed in her nitnd. Hi* influence was too recenS to be overcome immediately. I pointed this cat to ber, and said a& I rose to end our long Interview : "Madam, the day that you can write your own uame again, yoar eril genius will nave censed to hold power over you. And when that day comes you will call your children, and take them to yoar heartnever to leave it again till that heart ceases to beat." When I went dowustaire, I found Olive seated on her brother's knee, her cheek against hi*, his arm about her waist. They came to the door with mc, but St. John accompanied mc to the gate, as if he wished to speak of Mary. And yet he could find no words to utter. " Good-bye, nay dear boy,"' said I, grasping his hand as we parted, "good night. I wi.'l run over early to-morrow morning, you may be sure, to s>ee how you are getting 6a." " Do, there's a dear old fellow," said he, still grasping my hand. " You may have something to tell mc. Some newe of her." ''Yes, yes," I replied, '"I know your thoughts," dear lad," and then to give a cheerful nota to our parting, I added, " Well, well, the battle U as good as won." " Yes," he auswered with a deep emotion, as he turned away. " Bub at a price !" at whit a prict!" Tho3e words rang in my ears all that long mile and a half that intervened between the Court and home. A dreary trudge—drearier by the knowledge that no bright and welcoming face would meet mv at the end —that the bouse would be silent, and dark, and debate—like a house of death. ! could think only of Mary and her terrible fa.te— recollecting the brightest incident in out , p?ist life to compare them with the dull and void existence that lay before mc, the sfiU more soiabre future that stretched before iiary. What would become.of her ? Would she abandon herself to a life o£ worldly pleasures and fictitious .gaiety, profiting by the passionate submission of Ltiwson to her will, and taking advantage of his infatuation to throw his money to the right and left upon trifles and luxury ? I could not even hope that she would procurf temporary happiness, and the forgetfulnees of thac batcer life that she had seemed so fitted to lead. The book had taught mc much, and I foresaw itiat the calculating villain would merely obtain the ascendancy over her will, which he had gained over his wife's and Olive's, by simple contact and association, I had read again in this volume that though a subject may resist the subtle influence at first, and for some time be proof against all the ordinary means of producing hypnotism, catalepsy inevitably results jrotn a persistent course of hypnotic treatment. This Lawson must have known, and offered her a safeguard for the future, convinced that once under hU dominion she would have no power to make use of that safeguard. And when that time came, when his foul desires were satiated, would he suffer her to employ his money aa she wished? Not he. Would he even keep her in decency, and preserve her from the last degradation of abandonment? Common sense answered "No." When I thought of the fate awaiting her, and of what she had achieved, the words echoed again in my mind, "At what a price 1" CHAPTER XLll.—The Dkfeat of Latstson. The fh'3t postal delivery is at half-past seven. I was afc the garden gate this morniug when the old postman hobbled roumi the corner. "Have you anything /or mc, Robert?" I asked, as he touched his hat:. *' Nothing this morniug, sir. Going to have a fine day ?" "Are you sure there is nothing? I expected a letter by the first post." He examined his packet of letters to see that none had been misplaced, and shaking his head, said, "No, sir, ne'er a one. Next post, I duseay, sir." " Yes, TCobert, I hope so," but my heart misgave mc even as I spoke. Mary would have written last night if she intended to write. I said to myself. It was more consistent with her character to be silent, to give no clue to her whereabouts. Once more she had broken with the past, and it was better for her and those that loved her that she should be forgotten. To meet hei* In the morning fresh and bright at the "breakfast table was one of my chief, delights. Over our teacups we woaW-J»^t*e*At(;tle"plane for the day, each seeking some pleasant occupation that we might enjoy in common, and exchanging our ideas about the weather and the flower-borders and such like matters as they were suggested by our glances through the window; and now to think that 1 must pour out the tea for myself and eat in silence with no companion but lame Jack so disheartened and chilled mc that I resolved I would escape that wretchedness and go breakfast with my friends at the Court. " Hal will be glad to see mc," thought I, " though I bring no news, and together we may prop each other up with some show of fortitude." So taking my stick from the stand I called to Anne that I was going to breakfast with Mr St. John at the Court and should very likely stay there to lunch, and trudged off. Wondering as I neared the post office whether by any accident the old postmaster had overlooked a letter, I glanced in at the open door as I passed. To my surprise I saw Morton standing at the little counter where there is accomodation for writing telegrams, his arms spread, hie head inclined well on one side, clearly engaged in the laborious undertaking of filling in a form. " Who nn earth can he be corresponding with by telegraph ? " I wondered, as I walked on. Just opposite the church I pulled up short, as it occurred 'to my mind that Morton ha<! accepted bribes from.Lawnon to deliver letters to Mary, and might po?slbly•• have been charged by him to communicate any movement on my part that took place in his absence. With this suspicion I turned back wito the determination to ask my man point blank what he was doing there at this hour, when he.ought to be at his duties in the house. Buh he was gone from the post office when I got back to it. I heard the clicketyclick of the instrument inside, so I entered, and spoke to the young woman who was working it. "My man was in here two or three minutes ago writing a telegram, ,, I said. "Yea, sir, I'm just Rending iD off." " Can you let mc see it ?" " Well, I don't know, sir. I think it's against the rules." " I may know where it is addressed to. , " Oh, it'a for Mr Lawson, sir." " Where?"

The girl reddened, and with increasing reluctance, which seemed to indicate that she had promised Morton not to speak of this matter, she answered :

"I can only tell you it's in London, sir; and I don't think I ought to tell that any more than I ought to give up a letter that's been put in the box." " Quite r ight, my good girl..' said I. " I don't wish you to do wrong." This was a curious coincidence, to be sure, but not an extraordinary one. The telegraph office did not open before eight. Morton could not have learnt what happened at the Court in time to despatch a message last.night. He had probably gone there this morning to make enquiries of the servants, and, reckoning upon tbe regularity of my habits, had felt himself quite safe in getting back in time to serve breakfast at half-past eight. St. John himself opened the door to mc when I reached the Canrfc—his face worn and haggard, but not Without hope. " What news ?' he asked, eagerly, as our hands met.

"None of her, my dear fellow, but " and then I narrated what I had seen and heard at tbe post office. A fierce light flashed in his eyes as he listened, and when he had heard all he said :

"I'll give that fellow a sovereign if his telearam brings Lawson here to-day." " Have you decided what attitude you shall take f* I inquired. He laughed with n jerk of his head far response ; and when I asked him with an uncomfortable apprehension of coming mischief what he intended to do he answered qu'ckly -. "Do ! Why, cure him of any disposition to show his face in this neighbourhood again." "Don't you think, my dear Hal," I suggested persuasively. " that we might telegraph to my friend Fawcett, at Maidstone —as a lawyer, you know " " Oh," he exclaimed, impatiently, " we can have his aid when it's needed. I can manage this affair single handed. We will have justice and law afterwards." I shook my head ominously, holding personal violence in horror, and he continued : " "What can Baxter dp—procure a legal separation, a divorce when my mother is in a condition to agree to it. That will take months. In the meantime how is the law to protect these poor souls against the iusidious attack of such a man as Lawson ? Baxter, with all the law to back him. can do nothing to punish this unrecognised crime, or to prevent it, In a case like this, a man must make his own laws, and defend -his property by brute force. Mary, in her wisdom, saw this, and failing to wake my sluggish

spirit by other means, forced mc by withholding Lawson to come here for the defence of my mother and Olive." I nodded reluctant assent, with a sign for the failure ot poor Mary's first endeavour. . And hi 3 thoughts must have run in tbe same direction, for with Ms chin on 1m breast, hla eye* cast down upon the ground, he presently muttered in the low voice of shame — "If I had only behaved like a mar, this would not have been. 1 left her no alternative but the abandonment of her purpose, and she was too devoted to accept that. As long as I live, remorse will bang upon my conscience—a leaden weight never to be cast off. "Perhaps," I suggested, to lighten that burden if I might, "had she told you earlier*-" " I have thought of that in the nightattempting to palliate my crime—for it is a crime." he said fiercely, " for a man to yield to temptation whether his sm be puuishable or not. Shu let mc know all that she dared tell mc, urging mc by every conceivable incentive to do my duty, and I was deaf and blind. Without proof of his guilt I was powerless to take any measures against that man, and when she gave mc proofs I did nothing. At the time when I came back here to seek Olive, I knew that he was a villain, aud it was then that I should have taken him by the throat tmd flung him out of the house like a dog. But I was thinking not of Oiive „nd my mother, but of my own supposed grievance against Mary, and mad jealousy was the only feeling that stirred mc. I saw no good to be gained by dwelhug on his past faults and follies; and so, after a lengthy silence, aud wishing to turn the subject,'! said, touching the handle of a chisel that stuck out of his jacket " I see you have found something to do. There is nothing like work when one is in trouble." , „ " You shall see my work, said he, with a grim smile, and taking the key from his pocket, be opened the door of Lawson's study and led the way in. The air was rancid with the reek of a lamp that had burnt itself out. The shui.ters were closed. I could see notbiug till he threw them back. Then I found the drawers of the bookcase open, their locks removed, and the table sfcrewu with books and papers. " You know this," said he, turning up a red covered volume, identified with Mary's copy of Binet and Fere's work on animal magnetism. There are a score of others on the same subject—these are the studies of this ex-master of religion. They have torn tbe scales from ray eyes." Turning over the books, I discovered the pages ripped from the book Lawson had borrowed from mc; they contained a verbatim report of lectures upon mesmerism, delivered by James Braid before the Royal Society.

Whilst 1 was making these observations St John was examining the inside of an open door in the bookcase. " There should be a secret drawer about here," said he, tapping a panel with his chisel. "We shall find the spring inside the drawer. These things are all alike— secret only to fools." Pressiug something as he spoke, a panel slid out about half an inch. He drew it out still further and slipped in his band. " This is odd," said he, showing mc a bouquet of faded flowers that crumbled in his hand. " Fancy a wretch of that kind having sentiment—fostering the tender recollections that flowers convey. What else?" he added, pluneiug his hand again into the recess, after flinging tbe bouquet iuto the grate. He drew out a bundle of letters, tied with a faded ribbon. They were written iv a woman's hand, and, after glancing at one in silence, St John exclaimed, handing the letter to mc. ••' Thank heaven, there will be no need to drag Mary's name into court to procure a divorce."

The letter was not six months old, and was dated from Maidstone. On the first page there was reference to an event which was sufficient to prove Lawson's infidelity. I handed it back to St John with a nod of satisfaction, but I said to myself "If we had only found these matters out before !" Then 1 hurried out to meet Olive, whose voice I heard upon the stairs. She was running down swiftly, and I noted with pleasure the change that a night of peace, and that joyful awakening to happy hopefulness had produced in her. She seemed to have won back her youth and prettiness in the radiant light that animated her face.

"I have come to take breakfast with you, my dear," said I, " if it is not too late." " Oh, Harry," she cried, breaking away from my arms and running to hot- brother as he came from the study, "what can you think of mc for sleeping so late the first morning? Indeed, dear," she added, still resting her hands upon his shoulders and looking up into his face, "it was thinking of coming down early to meet you that kept mc awake so long—and then, just as it was growing light, and I said to myself, 'I muse get up in a few minutes,' I—l must have fallen asleep." We went into the breakfast room, where Olive's womanhood shone out through the anxiety that overclouded us, for seeing her brother bowed down with trouble and mc so burdened with secret grief that I could make scarcely a pretence of cheerfulness, she exerted herself to raise our spirits by leading us to talk upon subjects of a pleasant and hopeful kind. But for all her sweet endeavours our thoughts dwelt elsewhere, and as soon as we rose from the table St. John, leading mc into the hall, said:

"That rascal may be wise enough to keep oat of my way. But that's not enough. You spoke of Fawcett. Send him to mc. 1C the law can cripple Lawson he shall have enough of it. And until he is crippled I shall not stir from thie house. Mary may trust we now. Tell her so," and disregarding my look of astonishment at this command, he continued, "Tell her I will finish the work she has begun." " My dear fellow," said I, " you speak as it I knew where to find the poor girl." "Surely," said he, regarding mc with scarcely leas surprise than I exhibited myself, " you do not suppose that she will accept that man's conditions—the villainous offer he made in that letter? Ob, if that were possible," he added, that terrible look of despair returning to his face for a moment, ** if such a fate us that impended over her I could not re3t here another minute—even to protect my mother and Olive. No ; ehe will come back spotless as she left us. She went ' away simply to trick that villain —to give mc another chance of redeeming the past. I know it. The proof is Iα those letters sbe left for mc, There is no necessity to accept Lawson's infamous conditions. She "would not sully her good work by throwing such a burden of responsibility upon mc. It isn't iv her nature. '•My boy, I hope with all my heart and soul you may be right in these conclusions," was all I could say as I wrung his hands in parting; but as 1 walked homewards 1 said to myself that if he knew what I knew of Mary's hietury his conclusions might be different. And this reflection made mc rejoice that I had not yet told him of that other t>ancer which may hare precipitated Mary's flight. I went over to the little pose office in lehtham, and sent a telegram to Fawcett, begging hi«n to come to mc immediately, and thenca I ■ walked ■on towards Wrolham. A train was running into the station as I neared the railway at Borough Green. Mighs Lawson have returned from London by that? I asked myself, taking out my watch. Calculating the time it would take for the delivery of Mortou*e telegram, which I could not doubt was sent to tell him of St. John's . movements, and for the journey, I decided that it was not possible. Nevertheless, on coming to the bridge I looked dawn on the platform. And there I came to an abrupt stand, for within a couple of yards from mc Lawson was slowly toiling up the steps. No one was with* him.--I waited for him, with no denned purpose in ray mind, and he, raising his downbent head as he reached the turnstile, met mc face to face, blinking his colourle«3 eyes, and with conscience-stricken dread iv hi* cadaverous features. He was the only passenger, and we were alone. " Where H Mary ?" I aeked sternly, as I blocked the way. He looked at mc for a moment in silence, with that expression that aeemed ever to be suspecting discovery. "I might ask you that question, and with better reason," he replied, vindictive hatred contracting his brows; and drawing down the corners of hie thin, livid lips. " You kuow whera «*he is better than I. Toa hive helped her to deceive me—you are both in the plot, and cunning one us the other. li'h you who assisted her to invent these lies aboat St. John, who I know U miles away from here. You who have made a fool of mc, to save her from hanging. Oh, I know! You've come hero to exuU in my discomfiture. Well, go home and tell her you nnve seen nje, laugh at mc for a simpleton. But they laugh best who laugh last and my turn will come coon enough. Sbe shan't escape me —this pretty little friend of yours. I'll have my revenge, and bid her when she stands in the dock thank you for helping her play this trick, which shall bring her there." He apoke hoarsely, choking with mortification and rase; the saliva stood upon hie ISps and he looked as though be could

vent his Vfctjemdm spite upon mc as ho pushed his way past mc, apd turned to vrar ds Ightha m. Should I let him go on and receive the greater punishment;.awaiting him? My dread of violence prevailed, and following hastily, 2 called him back. "Stop!" said I. "Little as you deserve consideration, I warn you not to go to the Court." •'What do you meani" he asked, turning now with a fearful apprehension in his face., " Why am I not to fto to ray house?" '• Because it is yours no longer. Harry St. John is there, and knows your crimes. Your secret drawers are opened; your booki reveal your practices already known to Mary and to mc, and St. John waits there to pun inn you for them. I warn you not for your sake, but for his. If he lay hand 9 upon you, he may have to auswer for your death."