BETTER THAN LIFE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXIX, Issue 9028, 5 November 1892, Page 11 (Supplement)

BETTER THAN LIFE.

BY CHARLES GABVICE, Author of " On Lore's Altar; or, A Fatal Fancy," "Sho Trusted Him," "Paid For," " Elaine," etc.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. -(Continued.) They went down to Blanchard's, and Willie ordered the dinner and tried to talk commonplace; but he broke down when he found that Ida was not even making the pretence of listening to him. "Ida," he said, "you are in trouble. What is it?"

She turned her lovely eyes upon him. " Since the moment you came in I have been asking this question : ' Shall I tell him V " she said, with a calmness more impressive than any sign of emotion. " You promised to be my friend, Willie. You are his friend as well. You may not be able to help us—l sometimes think no one can, but—" "For God's sake, tell mo!" he said. " You know that I would go to the end of the earth—do anything to help you !" " 1 know it," she said, as calmly as before. " Yes, I will tell you. Do you know a Mrs. Markwood, Willie lie starecLab her. They were at a table in a receiiTSinil could not be overheard. Indeed, they .-poke almost in a whisper. "Mrs. Markwood ? No; never heard the name before in my life. Why do you ask ''. Who is she?" "An old frioud of Laurence—so old a friend that, though she is nob a lady, he spends most of his timo with her ; drives her alone in the park, forces her on his friends—is her absolute and complete slave." Her eyes flashed, her bosom heaved, her ha».ls gripped each other. Willie went from red to white. "What do you say?" he exclaimed, at last; then he laughed. " That is nonsense ! Forgive me, Ida; but I know—everybody knows—that no man loves his wife more devotedly, passionately, than Levondale loves you." "And yet what I tell you is true," she paid, with sad gravity. " You see the change that has taken place—you see how altered we both arc toward each other. It is she —she—who has come between us !" Willie wiped his brow. "I can't believe it," he said. "There must be some mistake. Levondale— Oh ! it's absurd, you know, Ida. There is not, another woman in the world but yourself that could have any influence over Levondale. Have you spoken of this to—to CoCecilia ?" She shock her head. "No ; I have told no one. I did not intend to tell anyone, but—butl don't knowwhy I have told you." Her eyes tilled with tears. " 1 suppose it was because the sight of you recalled the old happy times." Willie pushed his plate away—she had made no pretence of eating—and still stared at her. " I repeat that it is ridiculous !" he said, emphatically. " You have fancied things." She smiled sadly. '• Do you think I only fancied my bus baud wanted to get rid of me—of both of us —this evening?" ■Willie started. " He has gone to meet her." Willi&sprung to his feet, but she motioned to him to be calm. "I know it," she said. "Sit down. What can you do?" " Kill him !" Willie might have answered if he had put his thoughts into words. He sunk into his seat and leaned his head on his hands. He had promised, vowed, to help her if he should' be in trouble and need his help. She was in trouble now, and what could he do? "How—how long has this been going on ?" he asked. She sighed wearily. " I do not know—l forget. Weeks. Since we came to London this time. He came home one day and told me he had met her—asked me to get her a card for a ball. He has been with her every day since. I have scarcely seen him. Oh, why do I tell you ? And yet I feel that I must speak to someone—to someoneor I shall go mad !" Willie groaned. His honest heart was on fire and aching at the sight of her misery. " Levondale ! The last man in the world to—to be guilty of such a thing !" he said. "Ida, I cannot believe it. There must be some other explanation than the one you suggest. I cannot—will nob—believe it! I know he loves you." She hung her head, her bosom heaving, her eyes full of tears. "If he did, he would not leave me for her," she said, in an agony of lamentation and wounded love. "No; he has grown tired of me ! I was never worthy of him—" "For God's sake, don't talk like that!" he broke in. "I—l cannot bear it! Not worthy of him ! Nob worthy ! There isn't a man in the whole world worthy of you, Ida. This—this Mrs. Markwood, is she young ? Oh, but it is nonsense—nonsense !" "No," she said, "she is not young nor beautiful. She is vulgar, and—oh, Willie, she paints !" His face flushed hotly. "It's ridiculous !" he said, and he spoke almost rebukingly. "It must be all your fancy, Ida '." "Do you think so?" she said, with a ghost ot her old ironical smile. "Perhaps lam hysterical; perhaps no 3uch person as Mis. Markwood ever existed ; perhaps Laurence does not avoid me and take care not to see me for one moment alone ; perhaps—" she stopped and gazed before her. " Yes, sometimes I try to persuade myself that it is all a hideous dream, and that I shall wake and laugh over it." " Have you—have you spoken to him ?" Willie asked. She bent her head. " Yes ; and he would nob tell me—would not explain. It is impossible to speak again. A woman, a wite, only appeals to her husband once." She spoke like a woman of fifty. And only the other day he had left her a girl ! "It is time we were going," she said, after a silence during which Willie was mentally groping like a blind man. He paid for the dainty little dinner which neither had touched, and they got outside. "1 cannot go," she said, meaning to the theatre. He acquiesced at once. " Let us go home," he rejoined. "We will walk," she said. "My head is aching." They made their way through the quiet streets to Grosvenor Square in deep silence. As they approached the great house Ida said, in a low voice : "I am sorry I told you, Willie. I should have gone on enduring it all in silence. Do not speak of it to me again ; and, Willie, you must promise not to speak of it to him." "I cannot promise," he replied, hoarsely. "If 1 were sure—quite sure that ib is as you suspect, I would go to him and—" He paused. " But 1 am not sure. I cannot believe it. There is some mystery—" They had stopped unconsciously, and at this point Ida suddenly gripped Willie's arm. " Look !" she whispered, A few carriages were passing down the square; no one bub themselves was on the pavement. " Where? What is ib?" asked Willie in a whisper. "There, by the door— that!" she replied. He looked and saw a figure half kneeling, half crouching under the porch of Levondale House. The man seemed to be trying to look in at one of the windows, and while Willie was watching him he drew himself up by the window-sill and peered in through the,side of the curtains. Willie went forward quickly, ran up the steps on tiptoe, and seized the man by the shoulders. He uttered no cry, bub his hand went up to his breast and ho struggled feebly. He was a half-starved looking, emaciated object, and like a bundle of straw in Willie's strong grip; and after two or three ineffective writhings, he drew a deep breath and became quiet. " What the devil are you doing here?" demanded Willie, giving the man a shake, and twisting him round so that his face was I turned to the light. It was a worn and haggard face, and the eyes looking up at Willie had a smouldering fire in their depths which one sees in the eyes of the insane. Willie, as he examined him, at once pub him down as mad. " Let me go," said the man, in a weak, shrill voice, "I m doing no harm."

" That remains to bo seen," said Willie. «* What were you trying to do ! Oeb into the house , _ ' Before the man could reply, Ida had come up the steps and stood beside Willie. The man started and shrank back as if he were trying to get his face out of the light, and when Willie prevented this, he hung his head down. "1 think he's mad," Willie said to Ida, "in a low voice. " Shall I hand him over to the police, or call Lovondale, or shall I let him go?" The man's ears were evidently sharp. " Let me go; for the love of Heaven, let me go !" he said. Ida started and clutched Willie's arm. The voice, the words, as they smote on her ear, recalled the scene in the lane at Lovondale, when the escaped convict had knelt at hor feet and implored her to save him.

■• Why—l— him!" she whispered, terrified and amazed. Ab bhe sound of her voice the man raised his head again. "Tell him to let me go, my lady !' ho said. " I—l was doing no harm." At this moment the faint sound of a woman's voice, of a laugh, came from the room into the window of which ho had been trying to look. AH throe heard it, and its effecb upon each of them was noteworthy. Ida started and shrank back from the laugh, then gasped and caught Willie's arm. He stared at the window in wondering surprise. What woman could be in there? i ould Cecilia have come up unexpectedly ? But no ; it was not her laugh nor her voice. As to the man, the spy, a swift shudder seemed to run through him, and ho turned his hollow eyes toward the window, with the glare in them of a wild beast. Ida drew Willie aside. " Did you hear?" she said, tremulously. " That is her voice. She is there—with him !" "Nonsense!" said Willie, turning pale. " That's absurd!" She shook her head, her lips quivoring. " She is there I" " I don't believe it. It is Cecilia or—or someono elso." As he spoke he knocked at the door. The hail porter opened it, and Willie and Ida entered. They had absolutely and entirely forgotten the man, who, after a second's hesitation and a glance up and down the street, followed them. " I'm to wait," he said, in a low voice, to the servant—"the gentleman says I'm to wait." The hall porter looked slightly surprised ; but the man had certainly come in with the countess and Mr. Button. He pointed bo a chair. " You can sit down," ho said. Willie had walked straight to the draw-ing-room door and opened ic, and Ida, trembling in every limb, had followed him. Levondale was standing in front of the fire, his head bent, lie was pale and haggard, and he was looking at a legallooking paper. In the chair in which Ida usually sat reclined Judith. She was gorgeously dressed, all ablaze with diamonds and heavy jewellery, and the glitter in her eyes which champagne always produces. Willie closed the door in the hope of shutting Ida out, but she had entered and stood beside him, gazing iu sileut horror at the strange woman. Levondale, white to the lips, stood as if turned to stone. Judith was the first to speak. With a mixture of insolence and fear on her face, she rose and looked at Ida. "This is rather a surprise, Lady Levondale. We did not expect you back so soon. I suppose Lord Levondale didn't tell you he had asked me to dinner, or you wouldn't have gone out." She held out her hand as she spoke, staring insolently into Ida's face. Willie, moved by an irresistible impulse, stepped between them. Judith's eyes blazed. " Who's this ?" she demanded, looking over her shoulder ab Levondale. " Her brother? Who?" Levondale came forward. He seemed to have lost the power of speech or movement until now. "Ida," he said, hoarsely, "this wo— Mrs. Markwood has come to see me on a matter of business. Will you leave us ? For God's sake, take her away, Willie he added, in a low voice. Judith laughed. " Rather rude to send Lady Levondale out of her own drawing-room !" she said, mockingly. The blood began to return to Ida's white face; her slight, girlish figure was drawn np to its full height; her lovely eyes were fixed upon Levondale'a haggard countenance. " Laurence," she said, in a low voice, "you shall decide which of us shall go— for ever !" CHAPTER XXXIX. " Which of us shall go for ever ?" It was a terrible question, and it w?s followed by a terrible silence. The two women confronted each other, so to speak; the one with all the dignity of innecence and purity, the other with the shameless effrontery of a base nature re velling in its triumph and villainy. Willie was the first to speak. Bewildered for a moment by the situation, ho looked from one to the other in amazement, then he went up to Levondale. " Lord Levondale, can you hesitate?" ho exclaimed. "It is Ida, your wife, who speaks to you, who asks you the question ! Who is this"—he could nob bring himself to say " lady"—" this person ?" "Person!" ejaculated Judith, her eyes flashing on Willie. " Who are you and what do you interfere for ?" Levondale held up his hand. " Silence !" he said to her, sternly. Judith sank into the chair again and laughed defiantly. "Settle it among yourselves," she said. And, mind, if the worst comes to the worst, Laurence, don't blame me." Ida started. This woman called Lovondale " Laurence !" What did ib mean ? Levondale took a few steps toward Ida. " Ida," ho said, in a low voice, " will you do as I ask you ? Will you leave us for a little while? I have business to transact with this lady. See!" he held up the agreement. "I can understand your surprise, yes, and your indignation ; but you wrong me if you think me capable of forgetting you for one moment, or what is due to you. My dearest, will you leave us ? If you knew why I ask you, why it is that I am compelled to endure Mrs. Markwood's presence—"

Judith sprang to hoi- feet, her face flaming. " That will do, Lord Levondaie!' she said. " I've stood quite enough. If Lady Levondaie considers herself too high and mighty for my society, she'd better say bo, and leave the house till I'm gone !" Willie could not repress an exclamation of horrified astonishment. " Lady Levondale leave the house —her own house !" he said. Levondaie pub his hand upon his arm. Listen to me, Willie," he said, his face working, his eyoa dwelling with sad imploration upon Ida's white face. " There is in every house some skeleton, some secret ; there is in mine, and Mrs. Markwood has the key of it. Do not ask me what that secret is"—he still looked at Ida, though he addressed Willie —"l cannot tell you. Mark me, cannot ! I knew that Mrs. Markwood was coming here tonight, though I did not invite her. I would have prevented her entering the house if I could have done so ; but I could not." He paused a moment. " Yes, you understand, I see. lam in her power." Ida uttered no cry, but turned her eyes to him with a half-piteous, half-territied expression. He, her Laurence, in the power of this awful woman ! He gave her one glance of gratitude for her look, then went on : "She came to exact the price of her silence. It is a large price, but lam willing to pay it. She will leave this house in half an hour ; she will leave England; she promises that my secrot shall be safe. Ida, this is all I can tell you. Trust me ; have pity upon mo." His breath came fast, his eyes grew tender, pleading. " Let your love for me plead in my behalf." Then he broke down. Ida would have turned and left the room, but, unfortunately, Levondale's loving words and looks "to Ida raised Judith's slumbering fury. " Oh, she'll go fast enough !" she said, with an evil sneer. "She knows on which side her bread is buttered, I've no doubt. If the truth was told I dare say she knows who I am as well as you do, and her grand airs are all put on." Levondale started forward and seized her by the arm,

Silence, you vile woman !" he said, between his teeth. " Dare to speak another word to her in whose presence you are nob fit to live"

She wrenched her arm from his grasp and flung it in the air. "What!" she hissed, striding toward Ida. «» What! I'm not fib to live in the same room with her? Do you know who I am?"

With a cry Ida shrunk back as Lovondale stood between them and caught Ida to his breast. She clung there, panting and shuddering, for a moment, then tried bo draw herself away. "Do you know who I am?" repeated Judith, in a frenzy ; " do you know why I'm here in this house ? why I don't leave ib when you so politely ask me ? I'll tell you : Because I've a righb to be here—because I've tho right to be wherever he is 1" She pointed to Levondale, who seemed now to have grown deadly calm and selfpossessed. A dread of some terrible disclosure fell upon Willie. He moved to the door. " I—l will go," he said, almostinaudibly ; bub Levondale signed to him to remain. " Do you know, or don't you ?" demanded Judith, with furious scorn. Yes, you cling to him now; but if you don't know, if you're as innocent as you pretend, you'll turn away from him pretty soon. You wanted to know who ought to leave the house—you or mo. I'll tell you. You ought, not mo. For I am his wife 1" Ida looked at her steadily, as if she did not realise the full significance of the words for a moment; then she clung to Levondale and looked up at him with, for the first time during the terrible scene, a shadow of a smile. She thought sho understood it all now. " Sho is mad !" she whispered. But Judith hoard, and her fury increased. " Mad ? You think I'm mad ? Ask him ! I say I am—his—wife! Ask him I Look at his face ! Look at him, I say ! He can't deny it! What's the use ? See here !'' Sho tore ab the bosom of her dress, and snatched out the marriage certificate. "Road that! It is my marriage certificate. There's proof for you ! Now ask I him !" Ida pressed Lovondale's hand, as if to assure him of her utter disbeliof of this madwoman's assertion ; but his did not return the pressure, and with a sudden fear she drew hor head back and looked at him. What she read in his face sent a chill to ! her heart. "Laurence! Laurence!" sho breathed, with horror in hor faltering voice. " Hush, Ida, my dearest !*' he whispered, hoarsely. " Tell me—tell mo ! Now—at once ! It is not true, Laurenco ! Ib is not true !" He drew her to him and hold her tightly. " Dearest," he said, in a voice which proclaimed his agony, "be bravo. See, Ida, I hold you still ! Wo will never be parted — never ! Be brave, dearest! You aro my wife in the sight of Heaven—" She uttered one cry. "In the sight of Heaven? Then—thon this woman -" Judith laughed fiercely. "'This woman!' Listen to her! She calls me—me, the Countess of Levondale, ' this woman !' " Lovondale bent his head till he almost touched Ida's cheek. " Dearest, dearest !" he murmured, hoarsely, " it is true. This woman was my wife. It was she who stood between us that night I told you of my love for you. I thought that she was dead. I was led into thinking her dead by a vile conspiracy—the vilest that was ever concocted. I thought that I was free to love you, to make you my wife. You know how she reappeared, how she has forced herself upon me. Tonight she has come to obtain from me the price of hor silence. I should have told you all to-night, Ida, and placed the decision as to our future in your bands. I should have rid myself of her—the law would have sot mo freeand then I could have again claimed you in the sight of all men—" His voice broke, and he paused for a moment; then lie went on : "The secret is told now, dearest. You must leave mo to-night— once !" A shudder ran through her, and she clung to him tightly. He put up his hands to remove hers, for he had to call all his manhood to his aid and fight for her against herself and her love for him ; bub ho could not—could. not take her anus from him by ! force, and he let his hands fall with a groan, i " No, no I" she panted ; " I will nob go ! I will nob ! I do not believe it! It is not true! I am your wife, Laurence ! Wo were married —you know we were—everybody knows—" Judith burst into a laugh of mockery and triumph. " Listen to her ! Look at them !" she exclaimed. " Isn't it as good as a play ? She can't believe that he is such a villain or fool. Which is ib to be, Laurence?" Ib seemed as if he did nob hear her—as if he had forgotten her presence. "Come, dearest," he whispered, "we must part for a little while. You shall go home to the vicarage. You shall go— Willie—" Willie came forward. Of the two men he was the least calm. " For God's sake, come, Ida !" he said, hoarsely. "Hois right; you cannot stay now." Ida started at the sound of his voice and looked at him. Then sho drew herself away slowly, slowly from Levondale and covered her eyes with her hand. Judith looked from one to tho other. The paroxysm of passion which had seized hor was on the wane, and a calculating expression was taking tho place of that of fury on her face. " Wait a moment," she said, half sullenly. " After all thero needn't be all this fuss. It's your fault—all of you—that I blurted out the truth. I meant to keep my mouth shut, and I should have done so if you hadn't driven me into a passion. I'm his wife, and there's no getting over that fact; but I don't know that there's any need for A further flare up and a heap of scandal. Heaven knows 1 don't want to live with him ! I'd rather come to an arrangement, and I came here to night to propose one We should have settled it if you two hadn't come in and made a scene. All I want is fair play. Y'ou can keep the title ' Lady Levondale,' and be his wife as much as ever you've been, for all I care. He knows the terms on which I'll hold my tongue ; they're in the agreement. Let him sign it and keep to it, and I sha'n'b trouble either of you again." She picked up the agreement from tho hearthrug, on which it had fallen, and held it out to Lovondale. " It's an undertaking to pay me a certain sum of money every year, and 1 agree, while it is ' paid, to make no claim upon him. That's fair and square, and I shall be satisfied with it. Here"—she shook the agreement and laughed sign it, Laurence, and let us get the whole thing settled." Before Levondale could accept the paper —if he intended to do so—lda pub out her hand, and taking it from Judith, tore it across and across. As the fragments fell to the ground Judith's face was transformed, and she became a tigress again. " You fool!" sho burst out. " Y'ou refuse, do you? I'll have the whole story in the papers to morrow ! You refuse—you ! Leave tho house ! That's my husband—my husband !— do you hear? and this house— everything in it"—she swept her hands round —"is mine! Leave it! Go—go ! Do you hear? I am the Countess af Levondale, and if you don't leave my rooms in fivo minutes, I'll ring for the servants and—" She stopped suddenly,her away. The blood left her face, the paint showing on a plain of dead white, and her eyes, dis tended with a wild horror, were fixed on something behind them. Instinctively they turned to see what had wrought this change in her, and saw a man leaning against the door. It was the man V\ illie had seen lurking outside the house. It was the convict Ida and Levondale had helped to escape. He leaned against the door, with his arms folded across his chest, and his eyes, gleaming redly out of his white, emaciated face, fixed on Judith. No one spoke for momenb, during which Judith seemed turned to stone. Then the man nodded at her with an indescribable mixture of sardonic satisfaction and suppressed malice. " How are you, Judith?" he said. His voice, thin and broken by illness and privation, sounded strangely in the magnificent room, and its effect upon the woman he addressed was terrible. With the look of a hunted animal she turned her eyes from side to side, as if seeking some means of escape ; then she uttered one awful —a wail of terror— \ and sunk, a heap of gorgeous apparel and

sparkling gems, upon the couch, and hid her face in her hands. It was the mosb sudden, the mosb dramatic collapse imaginable. For a moment the three spectators stood speechless and motionless. The man crossed the room and stood beside the prostrate figure, as if he had some peculiar possession in it. , Willie was the first to recover from the stupor which had fallen upon them all. Glancing ab Levondale as if for permission, he said bo the man : " Who are you, and what do you want here, my man The man looked at him, and then beyond him to Ida and Levondale. " Who am I?" ho said, huskily. " I'll bell vou ;" and-he let his hand fall upon Judith a silk-clad shoulder. They saw her wince and shrink, and heard her moan. " She could tell you, if it were possible for her to tell the truth, which I doubb. My lady, you remember me ?" Ho addressed Ida so suddenly bhab she started, and hor hand tightened on Levondale's arm. And yet, though he spoke abruptly, his tone was respectful enough and full of gratitude. " Yes," said Ida, almost inaudibly. " You are the man wo saved from the policel remember." He noddod. " You and his lordship there laughed when I said that some day I might be able to prove my gratitude ; ib was bhe old story of the lion and the mouse," he said, " and the old story's come true. I'm a mouse, compared with his lordship the earl thero, bub he's in a terrible net, and it's me, tho mouse, that can help him, perhaps." He spoko with strange calmness, though his breath seomed to come with difficulty, and he book no more notice of tho woman crouching on the sofa than if she had been some animal he had caught and killed, or, at least, rendered harmless. [To be continued.]