THE WRONG ROAD

Evening Star, Issue 7484, 31 March 1888, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE WRONG ROAD

BY HOOK OR CROOK.

[By Majcr Akthuk Griffiths, Author ok 'Fast ash Loose,' 'Locked Up,' Etc.] j ; \

(All Bights Bcsa-ved.) VOL. 11.-CHAPTER XXX. SIR PERCY SPKiKS. This is what Sir Percy had written : " I have placed this letter where it must at onco meet the eye of those into whose hands my papers fall. "It will be read after my death—immediately after, I trust; so that tho bitter wrongs I have done the weak and helpless may be speedily righted. I cannot hope for forgiveness, but God is merciful, as man is frail. May all whom I have injured, directly or indirectly, judge me as they shall hereafter be judged. " The story I have to tell, intimately and seriously affecting those nearest tome, those to whom I am bound by every sacred and natural tic, i 3 one of shame and sorrow. The shame is mine; the sorrow, tho cruel disappointment, the disgrace, the misery, will fall on the innocent and confiding victims I have so deeply and so basely wronged. "And yet I myself was a victim. I was not wilfully wicked ; my fault, my trespass, my crime—l do not spare myself—overtook me unawares. Not till long afterwards, not till years had elapsed, and when it was altogether too late to retrace my steps, to letrieve my errors, did I learn how grievously 1 had sinned. " This is my story ; it takes me far back, beginning in 185—, when I crossed the Atlantic in search of sport. It was my passion, sport of every kind ; but I was perhaps most devoted to fishing. As I had heard almost fabulous accounts of the Nova Scotian lakes and rivers, I went first to Halifax, whenco I could move out easily, making excursions for days, weeks even, if I was so inclined. The sport amply repaid me, and J. spent quite six months most pleasantly between Halifax, Windsor, and Miramichi. I fished every ndle of the strangely-named rivers of these parts—the Nippissiquit, Musqudoboit, and Kastagooch. There were many so I was told, at greater distances—some in New Brunswick, some in Newfoundland—and 1 was determined to try them all. " Money was no object with me—l have had ample means at my disposal always, and greatly to my own undoing. It has tempted me to self-indulgence, to gratify everv fancy, every whim; but there Being fond of the sea, and anxious to travel in comfort, I resolved to buy a yacht, or the best imitation of one to bo had in these colonial waters. I secured a large Cape Cod fishing-boat of nearly two hundred tons, with her tall spars and graceful lines a clipper in every way, which the skilful shipwrights of Halifax gutted and reconstructed entirely. Her accomodation was ample, if not luxurious ; her sailing power first-rate. I found an experienced skipper in the master of a coaster, and he brought with him an excellent crew. " I made many cruises in the Evangeline, as I christened my yacht, coastwise, putting into little-known harbors or river mouths, and lying there while I thrashed all the neighboring waters and secured generally magnificent sport. After exhausting the New Brunswick rivers and those that fall into the Bay of Fundy, I shaped my course eastward, and passing Halifax, entered the Gut of Canso, meaning to traverse the Bay Chaleur and try the fishing on the coast of Labrador. " One Sunday morning we were abreast of Port Halibut, half-way through the Gut, when the turn of the tide sent the flood streaming through the narrow passage like a mill-race, so that we could make no head against it, and were compelled to anchor just where we lay. "It was Sunday morning, I say, and I could hear the bells ringing out their summons from the little wooden belfry of tho shingle-roofed church that nestled Amidst the fir-woods. The settlement was but a small place. A collection of framebuilt shanties belonging to the fisher-folk, whose boats, whalers or " Mudian rigs," were pulled up on the shore. But it was home-like, peaceful, and for once I was drawn to attend to duties too much and too long neglected in those careless, reckless days. "The impulse was excellent, yet, sinful man that lam ! would that I had never entered that simple, unpretending place of worship, with its bare rafters, whitewashed walls, and pinewood pews ! I there met my fato ; I first came under the black shadow that, through a selfish temper and easilyroused evil passions, has darkened and must embitter my life even to its closing hours. "The Bcrvice was of the simplest; the minister a plain-speaking, patriarchal old man, with flowing white beard ; the small congregation, devout and humble in aspect, all settlers and seafarers, clad in jerseys or homespun. " One single exception met my surprised eyes. In a pew apart—the clergyman's—sat the most beautiful creature 1 had ever seen. A girl, young, graceful, but reverentially absorbed in her prayers, till, attracted irresistibly, as 1 thought, by my fixed and ardent gaze, the looked up and saw mc for the first time.

" After that it was all over with both of us ; I was enslaved, she fascinated. I knew it by her blushes and vain efforts to ignore my eager, admiring eyes. . "It was the old story—love at first; sight. After church I made her acquaintance formally, through her father tho clergyman ; who, after the simple fashion of the colony, hospitably welcomed me to Port Halibut. But Priscilla Spary and I seemed to have already known each other for years. Love lives fast, and our intimacy had grown in tho passionate glances exchanged long before we learnt each other's names. "There is no need to linger over this part of my confession—it is not indeed that of which I am most ashamed. There need be no disgrace in love —honestly given, freely returned. Had I followed the first true promptings of my heart, I should not have to write these words, pen this degrading story. I should have made honorable proposals to the woman of my choice, and married her openly from her father's house, in bis own church, blessed by his own hands. " But I w as led astray. I behaved like a blackguard. The pride of descent, of position ; the recklessness my wealth and independence gave me; tempted me to sin. I took a base advantage of the trustful, unquestioning affection of an innocent, confiding girl, and—woe is me ! —dragged her down into the mire. "Priscilla, after much earnest solicitation, consented to elope with me in my yacht. One afternoon, according to prearranged plans, we slipped anchor, and with all sails set and the current with us, wero carried out of the Gut on the top of the tide. Our course, when once in tho open sea, lay eastward, westward, to any point of the compass, to any part of the wide world—just where we pleased ; for I was careless of everything, blinded, absorbed by my passion for the foolish woman who had given herself up to me entirely and absolutely. " Our cruise had lasted a couple of months or more before conscience awoke within me, and I realised how wicked a thing I hud done. But now when I saw how bitterly und unceasingly she grieved, I was overwhelmed with contrition and remorse. What atonement was possible should be made at once. The yacht's head was | shaped for shore, we landed at the first port, Louisville, and there, before the registrar of the little town, [I mado Priscilla Spary vuy wife. " A generous though tardy acknowledgment, this, of my duty, my grave responsibility to her. It should have brought me contentment, abiding peace of mind. But strange to say, the marriage did not tend to increase our happiness; on the contrary, the sacred tie, instead of uniting, drove us asunder. " No doubt I was mainly to blame. I grew discontented, exaggerated the _ drawbacks and disadvantages of our union. I seemed to see at last that the wife I had made mine under such peculiar conditions was scarcely a suitable mate. I felt I could not take her back to England, that Bhe was unfit to assume her place in the society to which I belonged, that she would shame, perhaps disgrace me there. "That these disturbing thoughts were

cruel, far-fetched t lam positive now. But yet they grew on me, gained strength, and presently I showed that it was so. My demeanor changed—l was less loving, less considerate to my young wife. Trust a woman for discovering such a change ! My wife, my poor Priscilla, changed too. At first she was half frightened; she seemed anxious, nervously eager, to regain my good graces, hut when she saw that my illhumor did not disappear, she quickly realised that I had ceased to care for her. The shock must have been severe, but sne proudly concealed it. Nothing betrayed her outwardly, beyond a stem impassive coldness, developing soon into sullen silenco, varied only by fierce bursts of stormy upbraiding. " The halycon days were passed ; courtship, honeymoon, happiness—all were gone. It is bitterly painful to me to recall that time—the utter collapse, the complete shipwreck of our lovs. lam ashamed to remember how cruel I was ; how bitterly I spoke to her ; how I talked her down when she boldly essayed to reply ; how wc fought, and squabbled, and fought again. Ah me ! Would that I could live those days again ! But there is still worse to tell. This is a full and unreserved confession, and I must abate nothing, must neither extenuate nor gloze over a single tittle of my crime. "It was barely six months since wo had left Port Halibut, yet I wa J slrcady heartily sick of my wife, disgusted with the parti had played. We had been cruising in Canadian waters; I had made two long visits to Anticosti, and had fished some of the rivers on the northern shores of the St. Lawrence. Autumn was over, winter close at hand. I had already made up my mind to go back to Halifax, pay off the yacht, and then return to England. Part of my plan was to efleet a separation at any price from my wife. I had great hopes that if I secured her a handsome allowance, she would leave me without regret, and gladly live always apart. " The month was November, the weather bitterly cold ; we were still in the narrow seas north of Nova Scotia, and my skipper hinted pretty plainly that he was afraid of ice. Wc must make at oneu for the open ocean, or run the risk of being shut in. Our most direct route was by the Bay Chalcur to the Gut of Canso and through it. But how could 1 show myself near Port Halibut again ? " I was spared the humiliation of running the gauntlet past a place with which I had been so dishonorably associated. Baffling head-winds blowing steadily from the southwest met us day after day, and although they raised the temperature and diminished our fears of ice, they forbade us to hope to boat up to the mouth of the Gut. But by making very long tacks to the eastward, wc succeeded in weathering Capo Breton, and having now lots of sea-room, were in a fair way to reach the southern coast of Nova Scotia. But while we were still northward of Sidney Point the wind dropped suddenly, and with it the temperaturo went rapidly down. Intense cold and a smooth sea was certain to facilitate the formation of icefloes, and it was all-important that we should continue our voyage without a moment's delay. The captain was not less anxious than myself to get ahead. As the day drew on, and the weather promised worse and worse, I ordered the gig to be manned, and started off for Sidney, determined to hire a steam-tug at any cost to take us round the point and on towards Halifax. Priscilla was in the cabin when I left the yacht—l did not ask her to accompany me. That very morning we had had a fiercer quarrel than any before, and I was glad to escape her company. Nor did she bid me goodbye, unless the fixed, almost insolent stare with which she treated me when I left the cabin could be so interpreted. "It was a three hours' trip to Sidney, and when once more we rowed alongside, night had fallen ; the clear, cold winter's night of these northern latitudes, twentyfive degrees of frost, a glassy sea under a sky gemmed with starry fire, and iridescent with the meteor-like flashes of the aurora. Benumbed with cold I went at once below, eager for food and warmth. My wife was not in the cabin. I looked in the sleepingberth ; not there. I went on deck, meaning to make overtures of peace by gently chiding her for exposing herself to such bitter weather; she was nowhere on deck. Still more surprised, I inquired of the watch where Lady Lezaire was. And then to my astonishment they told mo that shortly after I had gone off in the gig sho had ordered the dingey to be brought alongside, saying she meant to row about to keep herself warm.

"They were pretty well accustomed to my wife's whims on hoard the Evangeline. They knew, too, that her will waa law. However much we differed, she and I, no one on board was cognisant of the fact: and I to the last claimed the most punctilious deference for Lady Lezaire. " She had gone off in the dingey more than three hours before ; but where ? Towards the shore—they had watched her. Her skill in managing the boat, her prowess with the sculls, were well known and much admired by my crew. No one for a moment feared, with such a smooth sea, under such n quiet sky, that she could come to any harm. " But this prolonged absence seemed more than strange. Surely she ought to have returned to the yacht before dark. She must have got into some trouble, I thought; and without hesitation or discussion I again sent the boat's crew into the gig, and taking my seat in the stern sheets, went off in search of her. " We rowed to and fro, shoreward and along it, backwards and forwards, for hours. Not a trace of the dingey was to be seen. It was midnight before I desisted from the search, determined to resume it at dawn ; and sore at heart, and with mind full of gravest misgivings, headed once more for the yacht. "I scarcely slept that night, and long before daylight was again on the move. We rowed now towards the point, and skirted it, keeping close in-shorc. "A speck upon the sea, a boat drifting hither and thither in tho tide—this waa what I irade out at last, half-way round the headland. Frantically I bade the men give way, and almost at racing pace wo overhauled the object, to find, horror-stricken, that it was the dingey of the yacht, abandoned in the open sea. "I jumpedhastily on board, fearingalmost to find my poor wife lying dead in the bottom, killed by cold and exposure. But no ; the dingey was empty, although there were traces still of the unhappy creature who had been its last occupant. " There lay a jacket, a hat, portions of a woman's dress—all of them beyond question my wife's. "What had become of her? Only one solution seemed probable, nay, possible. I noted the ominous absence of tho kedgo, the little grapnel-like anchor of the dingey, and tho painter. She had drowned herself, I felt convinced; fastened herself to a heavy weight to make sinking sure, and so had gone to a miscrablo death." CHAPTER XXXI. KIR. i'EKCY CONTINUES. "I was now perfectly satisfied that my wretched wife had committed suicide, driven to it, I told myself with acuto selfreproach, by my cruel and unworthy treatment. How willingly, how eagerly I would have welcomed any evidence to show that I was wrong, " But there could be no doubt of the fact. She had made away with herself, I felt sure, I went on at once to Sidney in tho steamtug, and there sought assistance; I des- ' patched a whole posse of people, lumberers, backwoodsmen, long-shoro folk, to make active search in the woods and along the coast, but not a trace of her was to be found. She was drowned—gone to her last account. " I lingered still at Sidney for some weeks, nay, months, hoping almost against hope for some more positive news. The discovery of the body would of itself have been a melancholy gratification. But nothing was heard of it; no doubt the weights poor Priscilla had attached to her body prevented its reappearance on the surface of the waters. "At length, having no longer tho slightest doubt that my wife was dead, I journeyed overland, a nearly interminable sleigh-drive, to Halifax, where I took the Cunard mail steamer, and returned to England. "It was not until the end of the next year that I recovered even partially from the shock I had received. But I found consolation then, and the promise of mora

Substantial happiness, by another marriage. I paid my addresses to Lucy Mirfield, the daughter of a county neighbour, was accepted, and presently married. Our daughter, Rachel, was born next year; then after a long interval of nearly seven years came a son, and I was rejoiced to think that my little Carysfort would carry on our family line. "My life was calm, contented, with its sober simple joys. I was luppy with Lucy, a tender, loving helpmate; I adored my children ; I was respected throughout the county; the times were prosperous, my estates and vested possessions increased. It was about six months after tho birth of my son that I received tho first terrible shock, and knew instantly that my peace of mind I was shattered for ever and ever. " One morning I found amongst my letters ono bearing the Louisville postmark, written iu a fair hand with which I was not unfamiliar. With a strange presentiment of coming trouble I hastily opened it and read as follows : "'Pkkct Lkzaihi:.—Only a mother's solicitude for her offspring drives mo to break the Bolemn ailetco of years. I never intended to reopen the past. You thought I was dead, and so I was—to you. Nothing, I say, but a stern sense of duty to my child, my boy Hubert, would console rae for the bitter humiliation I now feel. I had far rather lie at the bottom of the sea than appeal to your generosity for myself. " 'But it is not as a supplianj that I approach you. I writo now to vindicate my riguts, and those of your son. Only a few weeks since I learned that you had mairied again, that your new wife—poor fool! how you have deceived her .'—had born you a son and heir. There was rejoicing at Straddlethorpe —the village bells rang merry peals in welcome to tho future owner of those broad latds. " ' Percy Lezaire, it is my child that is the rightful heir—my child born within threo months of the time when, wretched beyond endurance, goaded to desperation, I left you. Do your duty by him, or beware. I insist upon his immediate recognition. For myself I care little. At once acknowledge him us your heir, and you shall hear no more from me. Fail in this, and I will come forward, publishing my whole story. I can prove it, every syllablethat I, Priscilla Lezwc, am your lawful wife, and that she who now bears your name, with her base-born brats, usurps the place of me and mine.' "I need hardly pause to describe the effect that this terrible communication had upon mc. I read and re-read it, turning over its contents again and again, seeking for some shadowy hope that it was an impudent and fraudulent attempt to impose. By constant reiteration of this view 1 came ere long to believe it, and after a week or two I had almost succeeded in dismissing the letter from my thoughts. Surely the wisost course was to treat the whole affair with studied silent contempt. "The meagre comfort I obtained from this decision was rudely assailed before three months had passed. A second letter came from Priscilla, more peremptory, more menacing in its tone. "Still I could iut bring myself to aat; and a third letter found me still wavering, almost at my wits' end. " This third letter might well distress me. It was not from Nova Scotia, but from London. Priscilla had come in person with her child, a boy now of eleven years, to prosecute her claims. "It was impossible to delay longer. Some steps must bo taken forthwith to satisfy Priscilla; to silence her—if possible to buy her off. " I went alone to London that very day, to the address Priscilla gave me—a lodginghouse in a street off the Strand. I saw her there, the true Lady Lezaire, wan and worn, but still handsomo, and bearing herself proudly, despite her evident poverty and the meanness of her surroundings. "The meeting was indescribably painful to both of us. The recollection of it .alone is bitter ; I will not linger over its details. For a long time Priscilla was defiant, implacable, but I won upon her at last entirely through the boy. By a distinct and solemn promise to watch over and provide for him, I persuaded her to waive her rightful pretensions and withdraw to Nova Scotia again. I agreed to make over to her at once a substantial sum in hard cash to secure her against want, and to take charge of tho boy myself. I swoie by all I held most sacred to do my duty by him, and this letter, acutely painful as it is to me, is a most unreserved fulfilment, however tardy, of my oath. "It was at this interview that I learnt how Priscilla had fared from the moment she had left the yacht. Her voyage in the dingey had been straight shoreward ; she had landed under the headland where we had found the boat, had left portions of her clothing on board, and had removed the kedgo and painter to bear out the idea of suicide, just as wc had supposed. "From the coast she had mado her way through the woods to Louisville, where, her scanty resources failing her, she found refuge at length in the hospital, and here l.er child was born. " The birth was registered, by a strange coincidence, at the very registry ofiioo where wc had been married. "As soon as Priscilla regained strength she had gone into service, and electing to remain at Louisville rather than bo an object of scorn at Port Halibut, she presently found a comfortable place as housekeeper to a gentleman in the town. There she was living when the chance perusal of an English paper put her in possession of the facts concerning me, to which I have already referred. " Priscilla promised mc to leave England again without an instant's delay, and in order to expedite her departure, I went straight from the Strand to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where I made a garbled and incomplete confession to Mr Harvey, the senior partner of Harvey and Tinson, our family solicitors. I told him that years previously I had formed a connection in Nova Scotia, one of which I had no reason to be proud, but that I did not desire to evade the responsibilities I had incurred. "A child had been born, and I was anxious to do my duty by it. Of course I made not the slightest allusion to the legal ties by which I was really bound. To have confessed my marriage to Priscilla would have fallen like a thunderbolt on the dear ones at Straddlethorpe, to spare whom, if I could, I was resolutely but culpably determined. " Mr Harvey heard my story with grim disapproval, but he could not withhold tho advice and assistance I sought. He agreed to take charge of the boy, temporarily, until I could provide for him. "On leaving the lawyers I cashed a cheque for L 1,500 at my bankers, taking the bulk of it in LIOO notes, which I handed over to Priscilla, my rightful wife, as the price of her perpetual silence. In exchange, but very reluctantly, and torn with passionate sorrow, she surrendered her son, my rightful heir. I never saw or heard of her again. " The boy Hubert, now twelve years old, remained in Mr Harvey's hands for some months, but tho lawyer frequently urged me to relievo him of his charge. I wished to have the lad properly educated, and hoped Mr Harvey would manage the whole business for me. But it was one that seemed extremely distasteful to the lawyer, and I found myself compelled ere long to take it into my own hands. " About this time a man who had been on a hunting expedition with mc in the far west, a practised backwoodsman, wrote begging to enter my scrvico in England if I could get him a place. He was a splendid shot, and I made him under-koeper. "It was on condition that he should adopt young Hubert, and give him his name. To remove him from Mr Harvey's charge to his new home at_ the underkeeper's lodge was a matter easily effected. As I write these lines the boy is still there —the boy who is really and rightfully tho heir to the baronetcy and all the wtradaiethorpe estates." The confession, eo far as the facts conveyed, ended here. But Sir Percy once more took himself to task—with poignant upbraiding and self-reproach implored the pardon of those he had wronged. One or two important documents were added to the confession in support of it. There were certified extracts _ from the registrar's book. One of Sir Percy's marriage with Priscilla Spary, witnessed by Hamish Groot, master mariner, and Peter Spofforth, both of the yacht Evangeline; the other certified the birth of the boy, Hubert Algernon Lezaire, at Louisville, on tho 9th January, 185—. (To be conliuutd,)