SHORT STORY.

Franklin Times, Volume 14, Issue 258, 29 July 1925, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

A WIFE TO THE RESCUE. (By E. F. Benson). Elizabeth had always known 11ml this would happen, and wondered how she would take it. It was bound to happen when a woman had done as she had done, and with her eyes open had married a man twelve years her junior. She had adored him, and, for that matter, she adored him still: but her eyes had not been blinded by love —she had known when she married him that every day brought lids nearer. Waiter would be still young when she was old: sooner or later he would seek in another the youth and tire that had in her become encrusted with the grey ash of years. It had happened very neatly. Fate was so often a bungling and rough-and-ready executant: hut Fate had taken pains over this, and had turned out something truly artistic. Like the skilled dramatist, it had used the material of the first act to effect the denouement of the third. But. that completed, Fate had, so to speak, put this manuscript into her hands, and fold her that it was her business to* provide the fourth act. Well, she must run through the others before she began to construct. Site was thirty-seven when site first met him, young for her age. and extremely good-looking, and at once she fell under the spell of his magnificent youth. She knew his story: mdv a year ago he had been engaged

to a girl of his own age, Evie Glazebrook. who. when a more exalted fortune was offered her by Lord Ambleside. had accepted it, and dropped him with scarcely a shrug of her shoulders. Then she herself appeared, breezy, warm-hearted, and infinitely welcoming. Instantly he gravitated to her sympathy and charm, and presently there sprang up in him a warmth that answered hers. Within e year of their meeting they were married.

Elizabeth lingered over the second ;u-l —tenderly and beautifully had it been written. They had one boy. now at a preparatory school near Brighton, and the ten years which this act comprised seemed to her now. as she re-read it, to have passed in 'the space of one tranquil and sunny day. 'rewards the close of it, but in no way interrupting its tranquility. Lady Amberside appeared again on their stage, and Fate began to be really neat. She 1 had paid dearly for her ambitions —her. husband’s infidelities were notorious, and she herself a biller and disillusioned woman. They had met casually at a country house, and it was not with Walter that froiemlship was renewed, but with Elizabeth that friendship was made. The younger woman sought her wisdom and her sympathy, confiding to her the tragedy of her lonely and childless lire, which to the outsider went by in a pageant of success anil; magnificence. But into her soul had' Ihe 'iron eaten' —iron that ’was-■< cold, and numbed her. iron that was sharp; and pricked her. Elizabeth had been generous in response, gave bei waim friendship to thaw that numbness, and intimacy to soothe the sharpness Throughout Walter remained rathu aloof, nor diet Evie in the least seek to penetrate his reserve. Her friendship was with Elizabeth. The third act saw the three constantly together. Evie was olten alone in the great house m Pad Lane, which was close to then the corner by the Marble Arch .a d in these early October days, when the town was still empty, they met diuW \nd then, from the clock "hu-h* wound up once, ticks thehvesotaß men a wav. there came the whirr of the. hour which Elizabeth pad alwavs known would some time sir!*, for' hor. Waller*# eye .gl. on-, ed when HI vie. came—he had that hovering and subtle consciousness ot It, .- Nvlih-I, a man has not for <■•choraltv but for <»nc woman. Elizabeth could not mistake that: she ha known him . like Unit as regards heisHf nor could she now be mistaken ill the conclusion that Evie bad meant is to happen. and bad used her friendship Vo secure for herself mUmarv in their house. She was not : ] nV c with Waller, but with the hitteii- ; ness that rose like acrid steam fioin per own soiled life, she could not endure to see the happiness ot two l“L of avh„m : «h, have h,,n m-rs Once sin* had said to Eliza .. v .... all. dear, you owe the happiness of your life to my brutality Inwards Waller!" and now was ..■oing to insist on the payment ot that n ! And bow well she bad . ;,f| 'her part: not a hint of her veal motive in seeking Elizabeth f friendship bad betrayed dsel un these last few days. 1 o-m o ht. ni Iwrnly miniil", ay-o. Il„ Hock w u.TC, a"a in for the hour itselt. She bad heel! engaged with some refraclor> Patience while the other two talked bv Hie tire. Walter said something audible, and, looking up. Elizabeth saw her smile and nod at him. Evie got up. saying it was lime for her to be going, and Walter said: “I shall see you borne, Evie." lie had never done that betore: it was but a matter of a hundred yards In per bouse, and Elizubelli know willi llit* certainly of instinct Ihal wlial lie had asked her in a whisper was whether lie might do so. Fvii‘ }i«h 1 when In* sum thi^. “My dear, wind politeness. ’ she said, "and lolally unnecessary. Elizabeth. darling. Patience saps the intellect : you ought not to play it. 1 had a lovely evening. When shall we meet In-inoiTowl will ring Up in the morning. Good-night, darling." , Waller had followed her nut. ami ll,e arl was over. How was the lasi ad to begin? .. l-’nr the moment il was in Wallet s hands. Most probably lie would not he hack yet awhile. And when lie ' came, in an hour or two. should she j he asleep or awake if lie looked ill on ! her Wind was slo* to do? -Here ! crucial Ilian Ihal. whal did she led.’ i The ilex I week Was full of ; 111011 l<*l I - I ies and eon I rad id ions. He had come hack, for instance, on Ihal evening

i wilhin ten minutes of the time he hah i left. He was absent-minded with her, I and then seemed to realise her pres-

j once, as the sleeper ridden by the night i hag si niggles into waking conscious- ! ness again and liaiis the scene of fami flint* realities, or. as Ihe sleepless, racki ed with pain, hails the end of the ! night. He clung to her, so her iinagj inalion pictured him. because he was j voluntarily tearing himself away from ; her: his clutching hands frustrated his I will. And yet there was no evidence j for the truth of her conviction: they ! might have been but the insistence of her knowledge that this particular I hour would surely strike. [ Evie. was with them again next day. ! and the day after they went to the j play with her. and Walter, perhaps. ! was a lit tie aloof towards her. But i what did that mean? She knew well. He was on his guard, but without doubt when they returned to their flat with Evie for a chat and a sandwich be would presently see her home again and this time he would not come back in ten minutes. Again her anticipation was falsified: he never suggested seeing her home at all. . . . And then the hour for which she had been waiting struck. Walter was going down on Saturday, when his office in the City would he closed, lo spend ihe day with their boy at Brighton. Evie on the same day was off lo her husband’s house in Wiltshire, and would he there for a series of shooting parties. She had said good-bye to them the day before. and made them promise to come down for a week-end before long. If

they came on Friday, Walter would gel a day’s pheasant shooting. It would he delightful—something to look forward to. Walter left soon* after breakfast. Ho had not been very well all the week, and at Elizabeth’s suggestion lie had settled to stop the night at the Sussex Hotel, returning on the Sunday evening, or possibly on Monday morning, in which case he would telephone to her. She had an errand Hint look her to Victoria Street, meaning to take a bus at the corner by the station, or perhaps continue the walk. She seemed to herself to have been moving in a dream all this week: she had fold herself that .the hour was striking and yet . . surely it would have struck by now. But Evie had gone down to Wiltshire ' and Walter to Brighton. She had been once again wrong about it. And what if Ihe whole situation was a figment of her own imagining?

There was a block at the corner; just as she got to it it began to move on, and Evie passed her in a taxi going into ihe station. But why Victoria if her destination was Chippenham. on Ihe Great Western? Paddington, surely, wasn’t it? Evie was not going to Chippenham. And where was she going herself? She did not in herself seem to know, hut something inside her knew. II told her that ' she was going In Brighton to see Tony.

She supposed she must have spent some minutes in arriving at these conclusions: indeed, she - could remember standing at the corner, when the iaxi had passed her. being jostled by hurrying passengers.. When she go I into the station a train for Brighton had just left, but there was an?olhcr .Saturday only, in half an hour. That would do. Her mind, as regards Hie immediate future, was entirely blank. She happened to be going to Brighton; il was natural, was it not? Tony was at school there: she often went down with Walter on a Saturday lo see him. To-day Walter had gone by an earlier train, that was all. And here she was in Brighton already; it was bul a step down to . the Sussex Hole], where , she would lunch., , She went lo Ihe bureau. Yes, Mr lon had. arrived, and had taken two rooms, .17 and 18. ■ There was Hie

entry. Mr and Mrs Langton, quite plain, in Waller’s writing. The clerk believed that Mrs Langton had come too. Elizabeth, heard herself contradicting Hi is supposition. “Oli, no, i am Mrs Langton,’’ she said. “You mean"—where did these ideas came from?—“you mean my maid, who brought my luggage down by the Just train. And Mr Langton is mil?’ I will wail for lunch till he comes in.” She slrolled out again into the hall Io wail for their entry. Then the notion came to her to ring up Tony and see what Ills father had planned for this afternoon. Tony’s delighted voice answered her: he hadn’t known Ilia I oil her she or his fallier were coming down to-day. "Oli. isn’t that like daddy to have

forgotten lo write?” said Elizabeth “Now rim ,and gel leave to go out and nip on your bicycle and conn lu lunch at the Sussex Hotel. You’l be hero in ten minutes.” She went back to her seat in tin half. She had still no kind of ide< what was about to happen, and shr did not puzzle her head over making a plan. Things' happened in this sorl of pass independently of any contriving' Ilf Olle's own. The glass door swung open, and Waller and Kvie entered. There they were, and she was nodding lo Kvie and speaking to Walter. before he could answer the door opened again, and Tony bounced in. "Ah. uiy darling,” she said. and hen I In kiss him. When she looked at Walter next she saw he had chosen. And I here was the luggage porter with a soil -ease and a bag. "Are these yours, ma'am?" he said to Elizabeth. "Thirty-eighl. isn't j| ?" "Kail a taxi,” she said, "and pul them on lo’ il. J shan’t need them. •Mv maid will lake them back lo London. Niiw.' Tonikins. daddy and you ml I will have lunch, and then have a glorious al'lenmoii. Shall we go on the pier, or to llw movies, or what?" She watched Kvie go mil and spoke lo Tony again. "liiui into (he diningroom, Tony,” she said, "and tell them we waul lunch lor Ihree al once." And_ I hen sin' was alone for a momenl with Waller. "Walter, mv dear.” she said, "you've been in two minds all lids vreek. I know men can love iwu women al a time. Bid she doesn't love you: she wouldn’t have gone like

Ilia! if she did. but I love ymi. Now. nothing of all lliis has 1 1 ai>ih■ n>l. We’re down Imre In have a jolly afternoon with Tony. You shall slrq> till In-morrow: il will bo goml for you t<> j think il all over alone. I shall, g<> , hack this evening. so •counlermaiid. my■ !. room, will you’.’ Ami Hum join Tony and me.”