BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10037, 25 January 1896, Page 3 (Supplement)

BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM

NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.

BY I!. I- FARJKON, "The March of Ute, XJufcuco," " Aaron tho Jew," u '"' [All bights hkskiivbh). CHAPTER I. JOHN FOKDHAM'S COSMOS. ■i name is John Fordhani, a " lam SIT name .3 John a»e. . Ho far as I can i M v cli' ir except as to the occurrences of»ttrai" t»' ible I'W"'» »"»*''" vear< «l'o, which are obscured by a blac cloud which 1 have striven in vain top.eice. The>e occurrences, and the b » st u.t " Hindi they have been turned by an enemy brought me ■» a i l "' * l » c |;;;; ot M l L ma pre'enily to stand oe.ore tho ,fi." murderer No man accuses me. a murderer. Tiie "horrible crime, who accuse myse.f of " , ~.|know though I call Hod to witness Jit; tnou„u i that it must not how I came to do .. ]!at who have been done m self netcnee will brieve me in the face of the damning evidence which 1 afterwards found in my possession-and who will believe tlut when the fatal dceJ was done I did not see lie features of tho man I killed, and did not know who he was! My protections wiU be regarded as weak inventions, and will be received with incredulity-as probabiy I should receive them were another man in my place, and I his judge. It is the guiltiest persons who most loudly proclaim their innocence, and I shall be classed among them.

Am I, then, weary of life that I dolibeatc!y place myself in deadly peril, and i.vite the last dread sentence of the law obe passed upon me? In one sense, yes. Not a day passes that my torturer does not present himself to sting and threaten me and aggravate ray sufferings. My nights are sleepless; even when exhausted nature drives me into a brief stupor my fevered brain is crowded with frightful images nad visions. So appalling are these fancies that there is a danger of my being driven mad. Death is preferable.

And yet, but a few moments before I committed the crime, 1 was looking forward hopefully to a life of peace and lovo with a dear anil noble woman who sacrificed lior good name fur 1110, and whom I promised to marry when I was freed from i curse which had clung to me for years. The night was cold, the snow was falling, but tocre was joy in my heart, and I walked ilniig singing—Great God! my heart throbs with anguish as I think of the heaven which might have been mine had not cruel fate suddenly dashed the cup of happiness from my lips. But it is useless to repine; I yield because it is forced upon me. Ono consoling thought is mine. The dear woman ] love with a love as true and sincere as ever beat in the heart of man, will turn to me with pity, will visit me in the prison to which I go of my own accord, and in the solemn farewell we shall bid 'one ■mother will extond her hands and forgive mo for the wrong I have done her and our child.

These last words cause me to waver in civ purpose. Our child ! Hers—mine. I am the sweet little fellow's father, I saw him yes'erday with his mother, though neither he nor my dear Ellen knew that I was near them, for I was careful they tiimild not see my face. How he has grown ! Yesterday was his fourth birth- • i.l , and to-day Ellen is wondering who left the toy horse and cart at her lodgings. His sturdy little limbs, his lovely hair, his large brown eyes with their wonderful l.isnc?, the music of his voice ! What bliss, what torture I endured us I followed and listened to his prattle. "0, mother!" ho cried, dragging at her hand. " Look—look ! Do look !"

His excitement was caused by a display ol toys in a window, and they stood together Ellen ami my boy—gazing at the treasures there displayed. He liked this, ha liked that, and wasn't this grand, and wasn't that beautiful? and, 0 ! look here, mother, and here, and here! lie was especially fascinated by the horse and cart. Very tenderly did Ellen coax his attention to a box of white lambs, which was to bo obtained for sixpence, and they went into the shop, where it was placed in his arms, for his little arms could not grasp it firmly, and he wanted to carry it home himself. As he and his mother walked away 1 observed him look longingly over his shoulder at the horse and cart, and doubtless there was in his young mind a hops that one of these fine days, when he was a big, big man, such a treasure might also h'j in his possession, and that he would be iib'.e to ride off in it straight to fairyland. I am sure Ellen would have given it to him could she have afforded it, but she is obliged to be economical and sparing with her pennies. She earns a trifle by needlework, and, through a solicitor, she receives a pound a week from me, whom she believes to be thousands of miles away. Upon this fho lives in modest comfort, saving every penny she can, and looking forward cheerfully to the future. The future I Alas for her—for Reggie—for mo I

Reggie's father hanged for murder! But he need never know. He does not bear my name, for Ellen would not have it. so. " Not till the laws of God and man sanction it," she said, and I let her have her way. Spirit of truth and justice! Show me the path wherein my duty lies. More than one path is open to me. I Could disappear at sea beneath the waters, and my enemy would never discover how and by what means I had severed the cord of life. He would hunt for mo, and gnash his teeth at, the escape of his prey. Some satisfaction in that. 0, miserable fool, to express such a sentiment! But let it stand. I have no desire to conceal my weaknesses. Beinj; gone, Ellen would still receivo her pound a week. This is secured to her, and it is this my enemy would snatch from her. " You have money left," he cried. " 1 will have my slime of it, or I will denounce you." He shall not succeed. He shall not rob Ellen, nor shall lie denounce me. No man except myself shall bring me to the bar of justice. I could kill him, and the world would be rid of a monster. lam strong; he is weak. I have held him with one hand, so that he could not move a step from the spot upon which he stood. Dead, he could do no more mischief. Wretch that lam ! Add murder to murder ? No. I will not burden my soul with conscious guilt. I will do what I resolved to do, and this confession, when it is completed, shall be sent to Ellen. Condemn me, world. Ellen, in my last hours I look to you for one blessed ray of light. There was a dread iiisis in my life when you were my guardian ingel, and saved me fiom destruction. You will 'iot fail me now. Receiving consolation at your dear hands, from your pure heart, I shall lay down my load, and with sobs of thankfulness shall bid tho world farewell. In heaven, where the truth is known, we shall meet again.

CHAPTER 11. Were it not necessary I would make no mention of my ghiM-life, but this record Would be incomplete were, I to puss it over in silence. All that 1 can do is to dwell upon it a? briefly as possible. -My mother died a few weeks after I was tan; my father waited but twelve months before he married again, and in less than i years his second wife was a widow. "'tis 1 lost both my parents at too early an a S!S to retain the slightest recollection of piem. By his second marriage my father lia 'l ono child, a boy; my half-brother's '"me was Louis, and by him and my stepmjtlier I was regarded with aversion— tar, indeed, with a much stronger feeling, for when I was old enough to reason out tilings for myself I learnod that she hated *Ul'.

My father had made a fortune by commerce, and in his will ho behaved justly to those who had a claim upon him. Half of his fortune was left to his widow, without restriction of any kind except that she was to rear and educate me, and that her homo was to be mine until I wan twenty-one years of age; then I was to bocome entitled to my share, one-fourth, which was so securely invested and protected that she cou.il not touch it. The remaining one-

fourth was left to Louis in the same way. Two of my father's frie-ids wore appointed trustees, to see to the proper distribution of his children's inheritance.

In the conditions of this will my stepmother found a double cause for, resentment. She was angry jn the first place that the whole of tho fortune was not bequeathed to her, and in the second place that she was not appointed trustee; and she visited her anger upon mo, an unoffending child, who could have had no hand in what she conceived to bo a plot against her. Upon her son she lavished a full measure of passionate love, while I was allowed to roam about, neglected and uncared for. Nothing was too good for Louis, nothing too bad for me. He had the best room in the house to sleep in, I the worst; ho was always beautifully dressed, and I was made to wear his cast-off clothes, It was the breast of tho fowl for Louis, tho drumstick for me, and dainty dishes were prepared for him which I was nob allowed to tasto; my meals were measured out, and if 1 asked for more I was refused. He was taken bo theatres and entertainments. I was left at home. His Christmas trees were at once a delight and a torture to mo. They could not prevent mo from looking and longing, but not a toy fell to my share. The heartless woman told me that I had robbed hor and her son of their inheritance, and I have no doubt that sho had nursed this grievanco into a conviction. " You are nothing bub a pest and a nuisance," she said. And as a pest and a nuisance I was treated. In these circumstances it would have been strango indeod If my child-life had been happy. I was glad whon I was sent to school, and I did not look forward to tho holidays with any fooling of ploasuro. Studious by nature, 1 did well at school, and good reports of my progress were sent homo, which my stepmother tore up beforo my face. Notwithstanding this systematic oppression I strove to win affection from her and Louis, but overy advance I made met with cold repulse, tho result being that we bocame less and less friendly. At length I gave up the attempt, and suffering I row a sense of injustice preserved my selfrespect by an assertion of independence. Instead of bonding meekly beneath tho lasli, 1 stood up boldly, and seized and broke it. This really happened. One sceno, which lives in my memory, will servo as an illustration.

I do not say it in praiso of myself, because these things como by nature, but I have a tender feeling towards all living creatures, and cannot bear to see them tortured. To Louis it was a delight, and even his pets did not oscape when he grow tired of them. He had some white rabbits, and one day i saw him bind all the limbs of one of them round its body till it resembled a ball in form. Then he throw it high in the air again and again, and frequently failing to catch it the poor thing fell upon the gravel path in the garden till it was covered with blood. I was fourteen years of ago at the time, Louis was twelve. I darted forward, and picking up the wounded animal was loosoning its bonds, when ho snatched it from me. I endeavoured to take it from him. tolling him it was cruel to torture the helpless creature. We had a struggle, and his screams brought his mother from the house. She fell upon me, and dragged me away. " See what ho has dono," said Louis, pointing to the bleeding rabbit, which had fallen to the ground. " You did it," I retorted. " It's a lie," he screamed. " You did it, you did it." It was not the first falsehood he had told by many to get me into trouble. ranting with rage, my stepmother ran back to the house, and returned with a cane she had often used upon me. " I will punish you for the lie,''she said. " How dare you say my darling would do such a cruel thing? You are a disgrace to the name you bear. 1 ' She flourished the cane ; I stepped back. "I have told the truth,' I said, "and I don't intend to be punished any more by you for faults I do not commit." " You do not intend I" she answored, advancing towards me. "I will teach you, I will teach you !" Swish went the cane across my face, only once, for as she was about to repeat the blow I wrested it from her, broke it, and threw it over the garden wall. In a frenzy of ungovernable fury she seimi the first weapon that caught her eye—a gardener's spade—and attacked me with it, and at the same moment Louis ran at me with a tineapronged rake. He slipped and fell, and in is fall wounded himself with the prongs. His cries of pain diverted bis mother's attention from" me; she flung away the spade, and caught him in her arms. Alarmed at the sight of blood dripping from his face i stepped forward to assist her.

" Keep off, you murderer I" she shrieked. " You have killed ray boy ! You will come to tho gallows I" She flew into the houso with Louis, and I saw nothing more of her that day. Louis, as 1 afterwards learned, kept his room for a week; it was not till months had passed that we met again, and then 1 noticed a scar on his forehead which I was told he would carry with him to the grave. From that timo I was made to feel that I had two bitter enemies in my father's house. Arrangements were mado to keep me at school during holidays, and I was not sorry for it. Once a year only was I allowed to visit my home, and then I was shunned; my meals were served to me in a separate room, and not the slightest attention was paid to my wants. I grew to be accustomed to this, and took refuge in study, longing for the day to arrive when I should be free. I recall the conversation which took place on that day between my stepmother and me, " You have made arrangements, I presume," she commenced, " for residing elsewhere."

"I have been thinking what I had best do," I said. " That is not what I asked you. It is perfectly immaterial to me what you have been thinking of. I presume your arrangements to live elsewhere aro already made." As a matter of fact they were not, but I could not pretend to misunderstand her. " You wish me to leave the house soon," I said.

"At once," she replied, "without a moment's unnecessary delay. You shall not eat another meal here. Your presence is hateful to me."

" I have known that all my life," I said, mournfully.

" Then why have you remained so long?" she asked, speaking with angry vehemence. " A man with a particle of spirit in him would have gone away years ago, but you, like tho creature you are, have sponged upon me to the last hour. You are twentyone to-day, and I am no longer legally obliged to keep you, Go, and disgrace yourself, as you are sure to do." "1 shall never do that."'

"Ib has to be proved,'' sho retorted. "As if anyone, knowing you, would believe a word that passes your lips I We shall see your name in the papers in connection with some scandalous affair.

" You are mistaken. I boar ray father's name, and I would suffer a hundred deaths rather than see it dragged through' the mire."

" Swear it," she cried. "I swear it. But, hating me as you do, why should you bo so sensitive about uiy good name?" " Your good name!" she said, scornfully. " It is only because I bear it, becauso Louis bears it, us well as you, that 1 exaeb the pledge from you. Otherwise, do you think 1 caro what becomes of you ?" "Truly," I said, "I believe it would rejoice you to hear the worst." " It would."

" I liopo to disappoint you. On my solemn word of honour nothing that I do shall ever make our name a thome for scandal or reproach." "I hold you to that. We shall see whether there is any manhood in you, or the least sense of honour, Now, go." "Cannot we part without enmity?" I asked. Persecuted and wronged as I had been, some touch of sentiment—of which I was nob ashamed—movod mo to the endeavour to soften the hoarb of my dead father's wife.

"No, we cannot," sho answered. "To ask it proves your mean spirit. But do you think we shall forget you. We have something to remembor you by. Be sure —be sure that it will not be forgotten while there is blood in our veins."

" To what do you refer ?" "There is a scar on my Louts' faco, inflicted by you, which ho will boar with him to the grave.'' "No, no," I cried. "It is nob true to say I did it. I deplore the acoideat, but it was caused by hia own cruelty," /

" How dare you utter the lie ? It is not the first time ; you said as much on the day vou tried to kill him. Yea, you would have murdered him had I not been by. We shall remember you by that, and it shall bo evidence against* you if there is ever occasion for it. Cruelty! My darling Louis cruel ! He has the tenderost heart. You coward—you coward ! Had lie been as old and strong as you you would nob have dared to attack him. But that is the way with such as you—to strike only the weak. Time will show—time will show! You are going into the world ; there is no longer a check upon you. There will be a woman, perhaps, whom you will beat and torture. Oh, yes, you will do it; and you will ljo to the world, and whine that the fault is hers. Lot those who stand by hor come to me and Louis—we will give you a character; you shall be exposed In our true light. I hate you—l hate you—l hate you ! May your life be a lifo of sorrow I"

And she flung herself from the room, Tho time was to come when these oruel words wore to bo used against mo with cruel effect ; there was something prophetio in their venom. I did not see Louis before I left the house, and on that day I commoncod n now life. [To be contiuued on Wednesday next.]