BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10049, 8 February 1896, Page 3 (Supplement)

BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

022— NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.

BY B. I/. FARJKON, Author of " No. 119, Great Porter Square," " Grit," "The March of Fato," "for the Defence," " Aaron the Jew," etc, [All Rights Reserved.; SYNOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Humus I A.VI) 11.-John I'onlliain, at an early R-e i> left an orphan; hi* stepmother*hoards I,is guardian, lias a son. l.ouis, two yearsin than .John. >he maintains a cteadly h.il« for J tin, I'i'rhups owing to the division of ti atheM p.operty. Louis prows up with the same dfel.U After many years of domestic <"> u,,piness, he becomes of ape and leaves At Hp* brother lie falls ill love with ltarbani Maxwell. Her hrot! er pesters John for mom,, which is pen » ». marries Barbara without learning lwi true rhmctor. Maxwell jeoringly tells John that she is S"'i v.' ml v. -On the day of their mrtiage John and llarhara ,o to Puts Arming at the l e John leaves hi< wife to umni-k, while lie «« roml the citv. Lite return* lo I fie hotel to u " tJ 'f' " wife lias locked hit.i out. My the ml tho manager lie is atile to set through i He rtii-ls the room in a deplorable state, and.U wife drunk on the bet. Her true ' char*ir on dawns upon him. hut be r,-solves t • r^: Un " He transfers six brandy bottles from her box to bis. CHAPTER VI.-(Continued.) Was she acting? I could not say, but for the sake of peace I kissed hor again. It was my fata to live with her, and tho fewer wo had of such scenes as that we had passed through the lighter would be my burden. And was it not my duty to make an endeavour to reform her? '• Barbara," 1 said, "you have caused mo tho greatest grief I hire ever experienced. " I am so sorry, so very, very sorry 1" she murmured. "(-'an I say more than that? "You can, Barbara. You can promise me never t.i drink .-pints again. "Do von think 1 ever intend to?" sho asked, in a tone of astonishment. " I don't know." "Now listen to me, love," sho said, with in ingenuous smile. "I will never touch mother drop as long as I live." " Do you mean that truly?" "Truly, truly, truly ! I was so ill, and ?o unhappy at being left alone! I can't hear you out of my sight, John dear, and if yon won't take advantage of it I don't mind confessing lam a wee bit jealous. We will not talk of it any more, will we ?" " It is a solemn promise you have given me." "A solemn, solemn promise, love. If foil have any doubts of me I will go down jii my knees and swear it." " I take your word, Barbara." " My husband is a gentleman,'' she said, gaily, "'though Maxwell says you aro a— but never mind what Maxwell says. He thinks he is the cleverest fellow in the world, but that's no reason why we should think so. Now lam going to make myself beautiful for my dear, dear boy, who is all the world to mo." ?>id this conversation, this promise, rekindle my love for Barbara? No. But duty stood where love should have stood, and 1 vowed to perform it faithfully, Perhaps, after all, the fault had been mine. I should not have been so precipitate; I should not have allowed myself to be led on by a sentiment which I had mistaken for hue. The step 1 had taken could not be retraced ; I must make the best of it. The past was dead and cold. Little did I imagine what the future had in store for me. While Barbara was dressing the manager of the hotel waited on me. and to my surprise handed me my account. As I had not been in the house twenty-four hours I inquired if it was usual for his visitors to pay from day to day. No, he replied blandly, it was not usual. Then why call upon me so soon for payment ? Did he mistrust me? He was shocked at the suggestion. Mistrust an English gentleman ? t'ertainly not—no, no. This with perfect politeness and much deprecatory waving of bis hinds. " But you expect a settlement of this account," I said, irritated by his manner. "If monsieur pleases. And if monsieur will be so obliging as to seek another hotel in which he will be more comfortable, more at his ease —"

" I understand," I said. " You turn me out. Why?" " If monsieur will be pleased to listen. The servant# were not used to the ways of monsieur and madatne; and there had been romplaints from visitors. The sick gentleinau in the next apartment—' "Enough," I said, impatiently. "I leave your hotel within the hour, and I will never set foot in it again." He was grieved, devastated, but if monsieur had so resolved—

These uncompleted sentences were very significant, and afforded a sufficiently clear explanation of the proceeding. With suppressed anger I ran my eye down the account, and pointed to an item of five franca for brandy. "Supplied this mornine," he explained, "to monsieur's order. Fivo francs—yes, monsieur would find it quite correct." "I required only a small glass," I said. "It is an imposition." He trusted not, such an accusation had never been brought against him. Would monsieur be kind enough to produce the decanter? A proper deduction would be made if only one small glass had been taken.

" Produce the decanter! Certainly I will.

I called to Barbara to give mo the decanter, and, her white arm bared to the shoulder, she handed it out to me. It was empty. I blushed from shame. '■ Dots monsieur find the account jorrect ?"

"Id is correct. Here is your money." He receipted the bill and departed, with polite bows and more deprecatory waving of his hands. As 1 sat with my dosed eyes covered by my hand, Barbara touched my shoulder. I looked up into her smiling face.

" Have I made myself beautiful, dear?" .Most assuredly she would havo beon so in oilier men'? eyes, for she was eminently attractive, but -lie was not in mine. Her b'.'Mititul outside vet! only to accentuate what was corrupt within. " Why do you not answer ? Are you not proud of your wife?' 1 I'roud of her ? Great God ! Proud of a woman who had brought this shame upon me, and who, but an hour ago, was as degraded a spectaclo as imagination could compass. " Don't get sulky again,"she said, and as I still did not speak, she asked vehemently, " What is tho matter now ?"

"Simply that we are turned out of the hotel," I replied.

"Is that ail? The insolent ruffians! It is a thousand pities we ever camo here. But why [.'ft milky over it? Paris is crammed with hotel*, and they will only bo too glad to take our money." "It is not that, Barbara. I wish to know if you drank all the brandy in the decanter."

" All ? It wasn't more than a thimbleful, And see what pood it did me."

" Did you finish it before you promised never to touch spirits again ?" " What a tragedy voice, and what a tragedy face! Of course I did. Do you think I would be so dishonourable as to break a promise I gavo youyou, of all men ? That isn't showing much confidence in me." "You will keep that promise faithfully, Barbara ?" " I should be ashamed to look you in tho : aee if I did not mean to keep it faithfully. Vnu will never find mo doing anything underhanded or behind your back, John," I rallied at this. My happiness was lost, but there was a hope that our shame would not be revealed to the world. As for what had occurred in this hotel, once we were gone it would soon bo forgotten. The swiftly turning kalcidoscopo of life in Paris is too absorbing in its changes to allow tho inhabitants to dwell long upon one picture, especially on a picture the principal figures in which were persons so insignificant as ourselves.

"Not a sou," cried Barbara, snapping her fingers in the faces of the sonants who swarmed about us when we. were seated in the carriage; " not ono sou, you greedy beggars!" We drove out of the courtyard, and Barbara, turning to me, said in her sweetest tone, "I hope you will bo vory good to me, John, for you see how weak I am. Oh, what I havo gone through sinco you put the wedding ring on my finger! The dear wedding ring!" She pub it to (her lijD3 and then to miuo. " do nothing

but kiss it when lam alone. It means so ' much to both of us—love, faithfulnoss, truth, trust in one another. All our troubles are over now, aro they not, love ? And wo aro really commencing our honeymoon." CHAPTER VII. There was no difficulty in obtaining accommodation at) another hotel. Tho choice rosted with me, for I was not particular as to terms. I had no scruple in spending part of ray capital, my intention having always been to adopt a profession, and not to pass my days in idleness. My inclination was for literature; I was vain enough to beliove that I had in mo tho makings of a novelist, and I had already in manuscript the skeleton of a work of fiction upon which I intended to sot to work when 1 was sottlod down in life, Before our marriage 1 had confided my ambitious schemes to Barbara. " Delightful!" she exclaimed. "My husband will bo a famous author. What a proud woman I shall be whon I hear people praise his books 1" "That is looking far ahead," I said, with becoming humility. "Tho books have to be written first." " Oh, but they will be,'* she cried. "Now, tho plots; they will deal with real life, of course." "Yes," I answered, "with real lifo. There is nothing so attraotive; it is full of romance." "You might oven write aboub as,"she whispered, with a comical look around, as if she were afraid that anyone would hoar ; " only you mustn't let peoplo know that you aro drawing upon your own experience." "At present, Barbara," I said, "our story is a love story. To make it attractive and popular there would hare to be exciting incidents." " Perhaps the future will supply them," she suggested. " Who knows what may happen ?" "Nothing too exciting, I hopo," I remarked. " There's no tailing," she answered. " I read somewhere that evon the commonest life would make an interesting story if everything were set down without reserve. And I am not at all sure, sir, whether you are not marrying me for tho purposo of weaving a romance out of our married life, and of exposing my weakness and frivolities."

" What nonsense!" I said, laughing. "At all events,"she continued, "I can be a great help to you. I can tell you lots of funny things you can introduce; you have no idea how clover I am. Your heroine is going to a ball—well, sho must be properly drossed; and what she wears must be properly described. Some authors make the stupidest mistakes. Now, I can tell you exactly what Wo use for our faces and eves—l mean what women use for their faces and eyes. You have no notion of tho tricks of tho artful creatures, but you mustn't class me among them You will find no deception in me, dear." It would have been heresy in those days to doubt her word, and I gladly accepted her offer of assistance, gaily declaring that her name should appear on tho title page as joint author. Although I had boon but two days married this dream was quito dispelled. 1 brought away from the hotel letters which had arrived for mo, and Barbara carried the bouquet I had purchased for her on the previous night. Tho moment we were in our new quarters she called for a vase, and placed the flowers in water. The brooch I had purchased at tho same tiino was still in my pocket; the device of two hearts entwined was a mockery now in its application to Barbara and myself. " How sweet of you to buy these flowers," sho said, with tender glancos at mo. " You will always love me, will you not—you will always buy flowers for me? I have heard peoplo say marriage acts upon love like cold water on fireputs it out, but I should dio with grief if I thought that would be so with us. What aro your letters about, dear."

They wete from agents, giving me particulars of two houses, either of which would be a suitable residence for us when we returned to London, and set up housekeeping, Barbara and I had made many pleasant journeys in search of a house, and wo had selected two in the neighbourhood of West Kensington. One was unfurnished, the other had been tlio residence for a few months of a Gentleman who had furnisher) it in good style, and was desirous of selling the furniture and his interest in the lease. I preferred the former, Barbara the latter, ar u I now gave her the letters to read. The furnished house was offered to me for a sum which I considered moderate, and an answer had to be given immediately, as another likely purchaser was making inquiries about it. " Now sic down, like a good boy,'' said Barbara, and send the agont a cheque, and settle it at once. It will be the dearest little home, and we shall be as happy as the day is long." I had no heart to argue the matter; after the experiences of the last twenty-four hours one house was as good to me as another. A homo wo must havo, and I earnestly desired to avoid contention, eo for the sake of peace I did as Barbara wished, and wrote to the agent to close the bargain. While I was attending to my correspondence Barbara was bustling about and chatting with a chambermaid with whom she appeared to bo already on confidential terms.

" What delightful rooms these are," she said, looking over my shouldor as I was writing, " and what a clevor business man ray dear boy is ! I am ever so glad we moved from that disagreeable hotel. You must consult me in these things for the future; I have an instinct which always guides me rights The moment I ontered the place I knew we'should not be comfortable there. Go on with your letters while Annetto assists mo to unpack. You must, not look on, sir; I shall not let you into the secrets of a lady's wardrobe till wo havo been married a year at least. When you havo finished your lettors yon can arrange your private treasures while I am arranging inino, or if you are too tired you can lie on tho sofa and smoke a cigar. Would it shock you very much if I smoked a cigarette? It is quite the fashionable thin" for ladies to do. 1 I replied that I did not like to see women smoke. " Then you shall not see mo do it," ahe said, vivaciously. 11 1 would die rather than give you ono moment's annoyance."

[To be continued on Wednesday next.]