BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10055, 15 February 1896, Page 3 (Supplement)

BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

BY B. L. FAR J HON, luthor of "No. 119, Great Porter .Square," "Grif," "The March of Fate," "For the Defence," " Aaron the Jew," etc. [All Rights Reserved.) SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS nuPTKRS I AND 11.-Jolin I ordhani, at all early q tr,'. i- left an orphan ; his stepmother, who ac.. . !,;< guardian, has a .son, Louis two years ranger Hun John, she maintains a hftte for. ■ . perhaps owing to llio division of In- f , pioperty. Louis grows up with .he same' U "' \ I R .After many years of lioinestii an happiness,lie I), comes of age ami leaves lioim' At tile Ape o In- falls in hoe with Barbara Maxwell. Hethrotber pesters John for mono, winch is given hull, lie marries Barl.ar. without learning her true character. Maxwell jeeriiifily tells John that she is till his own now. CiurrKiis IV anV.-Onthedayoftheirmarrlnge J„1,,1.111.1 lUiliameo to l'iris Arming the bote John lean- hi, wile to unpack, while he r'* "; 1 " 11 ' the fit v. He return* to the hotel to tlml that 1 1, wife has looked him out. By the anl of the manager he is able to Ret through the window lie tiiiiis tin: loom iii a deplorable stale, nml Ills wife drunk ,n the lied. Her true character now dawns upon him. hut he resolves to reclaim in-r. He transfers six brandy bottles from her box to tils. CltiHl KS VI ami \ II —In the morning Barbara promise- to reform The manage, requests them to leave the hotel. John and his wile seek ano her Hotel. liaibara takes a liking to the chamberJi.iiit, Annette, ami takes tier into regular semen. li.hn iinsu-p etingly lends Barbara his kejs, and Alien lie begins tn unpack he disc -vois that us wife Has .(h-t-'acted the nran«iy bol.ies, ami abu liUl the ha-, had iluj licate* ut hi* keys made.

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued.) It was late when I returned from tho hotel. I expected a stormy scene, it being now two hours after tlio time 1 had appointed to tako Barbara to see the sights of Paris; but she was not in our rooms to reproach me. In the bedroom I noticed that two padlocks had been newly fixed to each of her trunks. I went into the oflico to make inquiries. "Madame is out," said the manager, " On foot ?" " No, monsieur; in the carriage that was ordered " ' Did she go alone?" "No, monsieur; Annette accompanied her." "Annette I" I exclaimed. "Has sho not her duties to attend to hero?'' '' She is no longer in our service," was the reply. "She is engaged by madamo. It was sudden, but she begged to bo allowed to leave. Your wife implored also, monsieur, and as another woman who has been with us before as chambermaid was ready to take her place wo consented—to obligo madame." " Is Annette a pood servant " An excellent domestic." " Trustworthy, honest, and sober?" "Perfectly. Madame could not desiro a better.''

Every word he spoke was in Annette's favour, and I felt that anothor burden was on my life. If I could not cope with Barbara alone, how much less able was I io cope with her now that she had such an ally a* this sly creature 1" At rive o'clock they came in together, my vile Hashed and elated, Annette quiet and placid as usual. " 1 have had a lovely nay," said Barbara, as Annette assisted her to disrobe. "1 suppose my dear boy has been running all over the city in search of me." You are mistaken," I replied. " I havo not searched tor you at all." "1 am not going to beliovo everything you say, you bad boy," she said, darting into the bedroom. 1 divined the reason it was to ascertain whether the padlocks on her boxes had been tampered with. Reassured on this point Bhe resumed her chatter. "How lonely my dear boy must have been ! I declare he has been smoking. Annette, give me my cloves. Will you have one, John? Iso ? Is it not good of Annette to accept the situation I offered her? She will travel with us to Switzerland and Italy, and will tell us all we want to know fcbout the hoteis there, and what is worth seising, and what not. She will save you no end of money. And what a perfect lady's-maid she is! I wonder what! possessed me to leave England without one ; but I am glad now that I did not engage one there for I could not have got anyoody half so handy and clever as Annette."

While my wife was speaking Annette made no si<;n, and nothing in her manner indicated that she understood what was being: sai lin her praise. Had she been a Btone image she could not have shown less interest, This was carrying acting too far, for her name being frequently mentioned, she would naturally have exhibited some curiosity. " Arid only thirty-five pounds a year," my wife continued, and would have continued her prattle had I not interrupted her. " I should like to speak to you alone, Barbara." "We are alone, you dear boy." I looked towards the imperturbable woman she had unpaged. " Oh, do you object to Annette ? What difference can she make ? She understands no language but her own." "I should prefer to be alone with you." "To say disagreeable things, I suppose, when there are no witnesses present. Oh, I know you. She shall not go." " Do you think it right to oppose me in such a small matter? Surely we ought to keep our quarrels to ourselves," " Who is quarrelling he retorted. "I am not. And as to what is right and wrong, I am as good a judge as you." " Annette," said I, addressing the woman in French, " leave the room." " (,'ui, mon«ieur,'' she replied, with perfect submissiveness, and was about to jo when my wife said : " Annette, remain here."

"Oui, madame,"?he replied, without any indication of surprise at these contradictory orders. To outward appearance sho was an absolutely passive agent, ready at a word to go hither or thither, to say yea or nay, with■jut the least feeling or interest in the matter; but anyone who judged her by ;lih standard would havo found himself grievously at fault. "Very well," I said. "I will postpone speaking of a very serious subject till 1 can do so out of the hearing of strangers. I will only say now that you should not have engaged this woman without consulting me."

" Indeed, I shall not consult you." returned Barbara, "upon my domestic arrangements, and I am astonished ac your interference. it is I who have to attend to them, and I will not bo thwarted and ordered to do this or that. Von think a wife is a slave ; I will show you that she is not." She paused a moment, and then shrugged her shoulders. " What you hate to say had best be said at once, perhaps In heaven's name let us get it over." She stepped to Annette's side, and whispered a word or two in her ear; the next moment we were alone, "Now, John, what is it?" " With the connivance of that woman you havo had false keys made, with which, in my absence artfully contrived by yourself—you have opened my trunks." " Go on." " You admit it." " 1 admit nothing. Go on." "Willi those false keys you ransacked my trunks, and stole cortain articles from them " ft,. " Stole!" sho cried, with a scornful laugh. " A uroper word for you to use.' " Sever mind the word —" " : {ut I shall mind the word. You will be dictating to mo next how I shall express ii.;«. ,f. If there is a thief hero, it is you. 1' ! ! you thief to your face. You ought to It' 1" ll,tiered that I followed your example, bin i.i,thing seoms to please you._ And you si•" 1111 consider, my dear —what is sauce for the i„'[>ri«o is sauce for the gander. You Dpin .d m trunks on the sly; I opened your? Ml I he sly, and took possession of my property which you had stolon from me." "1 admit," I said, speaking without passion, that I was wrong—" " Oh, indeed! And that admission justifies you ?' "The end justified mo; whab I found justified me." "In your opinion, because you can do no wrong. Seriously, my love, do you look upon mo as a child, and do you think I will sllow mysolf to be spied upon and robbed with impunity ?" " What I did was for your good." "Allow me, if you please, to be the judge of what is good for me. Will it offend you to hear me say that no gentleman would act as you have dono?" It would have boon wiser, perhaps, had I Refrained from uttering the retort) that rose

to my lips. " Would any lady act as you have acted ?" But who can quite control hiuisol:f when ha is brought face to face with an overwhelming and undeserved misfortune " Bosb leavo ladies and gentlemen oub of the question," she said, mockingly. "As you pay mo the complimont of declaring that I am not a lady, pay me the further complimont of designating what I am." 1 was silent. " I will give you a little leßson in frankness, my dear. When I married you I believed I was marrying a man of honour .unfortunately, I was mistaken. It has nob taken mo long to discover that my husband is a common spy—attaohed to the dotectivo dffice probably, the sorb of man who listens at keyholes and searches his wife's pockets when she is asleep. Don't forget, love, that ib was you who commonced ib, If I were a milksop I should sib down and weep, as some poor creatures do, but 1 am nob a milksop; I can protect myself. Thorefore, John, lam not going to make mysolf unhappy ; I am much too sensible. lam not an old woman yet, and I intend to enjoy my lifo. And now, my doar,"sho added, after a momont's pouso, "I am waiting for your noxb insult." "I am afraid ib is useless to argue with you," I said, sadly. " Upon this subject quite useless," she replied. " Upon any other lam your humble servant. Havo you finished, then ? Thank you. Annette!" The woman came in so promptly as to convince mo that sho had been listening in tho passage, "Sho waited outside by my orders,'' said my wife, laughing. I left them together,

CHAPTER IX. I did nob know whether to regard £b as good or evil fortune that I had nob a relative or a friend to whom 1 could go for advice in the extremity in which I found myself, for the best advice the best of them could have given would have been but cold comfortas advice genorally is—and ib would nob have boon possible for anyone to suggosb a plan which would havo set mo free without a public scandal, To that I was pledged— not to make my name a byword and a themo for wagging tongues, and I was resolved to suffer the bitterest humiliation rather than that. To keep my griefs to myself was my earnest desire. But, apart from this, I may say at onco that had such a plan beon proposod to mo I should not have fallen in with it; nothing was farther from my thoughts than to fly from a responsibility which I had deliberately taken upon mysolf. In my estimation the marriage tie was a sacred bond, and the words, "for woal or woo, for better or worse," absolutely binding. That my union with Barbara had shaken my hopes of happiness, that ib had already seared my soul, that I was bewildered and confounded by what had taken placo, did not affect tho obligation which lay upon mo. Barbara and I woro linked together for life; as Maxwell had expressed it, she was "all my own now."

I had often beard that marriage wa9 a lottery, and in my bachelor days I had lightly accepted the axiom as true, ithoub thought of the deplorablo condition to which the losers were reduced, but I now saw how false it was. In a lottery yon drawaptiza or a blank. My matrimonial venture had not blessed mo with a prize, but in no sense could Barbara be regarded as a blank. After a lapse of time ib would not have been difficult for me to have insortcd in the place of that word another with a strong and baleful moaning, but in those early days I did nob plunge into extremes aftor each fresh shock. When my passion cooled and the force of my agitation was spent, the consoling thought always presented itself that there must still bo some hope left, and that the seeds of vice with which I was linked had not taken such deep root that they could not be eradicated. I was continually indulging in tho hope that Barbara might be reclaimed, and continually reproaching myself thab I had not set the right way to work to effect her reformation. If upon me, the stronger of the two, devolved a painful duty I must prove myself capable of fulfilling it; if it needed nob strength, but wisdom, 1 must draw upon that well. So, on tho present occasion, when I had left Barbara and Annette together, I took myself seriously to task. I asked myself whether I understood Barbara's character, and the answer seemed clear. I had not studied it; I did not understand it. She was a beautiful creature with whom I had fallen in love ; it was surface love, and I had made no attempt to probe the inner life. In this respect I was no worse off than multitudes of men and women who marry without knowing each other. Was Barbara to blame for it? No, She was in a state of dependence upon a brother whoso character I detested. 1 had offered myself, and was accepted. For the fate in store for me I, and I alone, was to blame.

I would bo lenient towards her; I would devise some wise plan by which she could be wooed from tho wrong path. After all, she was, perhaps, to be pitied. It might be that the vice was in her blood, that it had been transmitted to her as an inheritance— in that, case she was truly to be pitied, and the office of physician, which fate had imposed upon me was ono of which I might eventually have reason to be proud. She would thank me for rescuing her from a shameful habit to which she had been driven by the hateful life she had led with Maxwell. 1 would prove a bettor friend to her than ho had been. Thus did I strive to find excuses for her. Again—was sho not justified in calling me a thief when I accused her of obtaining falso keys to my trunks ? I had set her an object lesson in treachery. Was not her _ indignation perfectly natural when she discovered that 1 had searched her boxes secretly, had taken from them what was undeniably her property, and had made not tho least reference to the appropriation ? Sho knew as little of my character as I of hers, and she was perfectly justified in placing the worst construction upon my act. The offence which lay in her reprisal was not greater than the offence which I had committed. If I had spoken frankly to her in the first instanco things would certainly have taken a different course. She, also, had no friend to advise her, and alio had flown to a stranger, one of her own sux, for counsel. It was I who had aggravated the situation, it was I who had driven her, as it were, into the arms of Annette. Thus did I argue, thus did I manufacture excuses for her, thus did I school myself into a calmer frame of mind.

In this better mood I met her when Annotto was not with her, and asked where she would dino. "Where you please," she answered, meekly. . Her softened tone filled mo with pity and remorse. " My wish is to please you," I said. Sho glanced at rne in surprise. " Are you setting a trap for me ?" she asked. " No, Barbara, only I have been thinking that wo do not quite understand ono another," " It seems so," flic admitted, in a mournful voico, " and it is making me very unhappy." " Well, don't let it make you unhappy any longer. Wo both have faults, and wo will try to correct them." "You dear boy I" she criod, throwing her arms around my neck. " Then you confess you were in the wrong ?" " Yes, I confess it, Barbara." " And I confess that 1 was in the wrong. Now, wo are equal." Aftor a pause: "No one is quite perfect, John." " ft is not within human limits, Barbara." "We agree—we agree I" She danced about tho room in delight. "Isn't it delightful? Oh, I was beginning to despair I" There was really something childlike in her voico and manner, and I followed her movements with admiration. Suddenly she stopped, and throwing herself on tho sofa, hid her faco in tho cushion, and began to sob. It was tho firsb timo that an act of mino had caused a woman fco sob, and it unmanned mo. I sat by lior side and Boothod hor with awkward, endearing words, and my efforts were rewarded; she became calmer. " It is so sweet, bo sweot, when you are liko this 1" she murmured and dried hor eyes. "You are ray dear old boy again, jiißb as you were before wo were marriod. Oh, John, why did you go over my boxes on the sly ?" . „ "It was wrong} I have confessed lb. «' But I like to hear you say it). You were wrong I" . " Yos, I was wrong." > " You mean ib, dear— ato nob deceiving mo J"

1 " No, Barbara, lam nob dooeiving you." She poutod. "It is nothing bub' Barbara, Barbara.' ' Yes, Barbara, 1 'No, Barbara.' Not so very long ago you would say, 'No, my love,' Yes, my darling.' Now, my dear, dear boy, Bay oub of your very heart,' I am nob deceiving yon, my darling.'" I repeated the words } to have refused, to have hesitated, would have destroyed the good work, the better understanding, of which I seemed to see the promise. " I am not deceiving you, my darling," " Oh, how good it is to hear you speak like that! It is like waking out of a horrid dream to a delightful reality. And you truly, truly love mo ?'' Again 1 answered, under pressure. "I truly lovo you." " Tlion I don't caro for anything else in the wide, wido world, and I am the happiest woman in it. You had almost forgotten, had you not, John, that I was alone in this city, without a friend bub you? I have only you—only you. I hardly cared to live, for what is life without lovo ? Bub I was frightening myself unnecessarily—or woro you doing it just to try me? You will be kind to mo, will you nob, dear?" " Indeed, I have no other dosiro," "See how a foolish woman can creato shadows that terrify her. That is what I did; but they aro gone now, all blown away by my dear boy's tendor words. And you don't mind my little faultsyou will put up with them ?" I ventured a saving clause. " Yes, Barbara, and I will try to correct thorn." "Of courso you will; I oxpecb you to. But you miißb do ib in a nico way. Long lectures aro horrid. Whon I try to correct yours— that will be only fair play, John, will ib not?—you will soo how gontle I will bo."

" At tho same timo, Barbara, whilo we are correcting oach other's faults, we must help ourselves by trying to correct our own." " I promise, with all my heart; and whon I make a promise in that way you may bo perfectly euro that ib will be performed. That is a virtue I really possess. And so we will go on correcting each other till we aro old. old peoplo, roady to become angels, whon wo sha'n't havo any faults at all to correct; for angels are faultless, you know. lam deeply religious, John, dear. There aro angels and devils. The good people bocome angels, tho wicked people devils." " You are mixing up things rather, are you not. Barbara ?' " Well, it is full of mystory, and who does know for certain ? Bub ono can believe ; thero is no harm in that, is there !" " Nono fit all." "And I believe there is a heaven ( atid a hell. You believe it, too, of course.' "Assuredly I believe thero is a hoaven, but not that, thoro is a holl hereaftor." Sho pondorod ovor tho words. "A holl hereafter I Why the 'hereafter,' dear?" "Because I havo a firm conviction that we may suffer holl in this life, but nob in tho next." "A hell in this life! That) would be awful. We will not suffer it, lovo." " I trust not, sincerely." "'Trust not You mean you aro euro wo shall not, suroly ?" " J am sure wo shall not, Barbara."

I was as wax in her hands, standing, so to speak, for ever on the edge of * precipice of her creating, and compelled to tho utterance of sentiments to which I could not conscientiously subsetibo, in order to osoapo the wreck of a possible happiness, "That I boliove in hell firo and you do not," she said, thoughtfully, "shall not bo a cause of difference between us. Everybody thinks his own ideas of religion are right. Perhaps by-and-by I will try to convert you, and if you feel very strongly on the subject, of hell you shall try to convert me. Which do you think worse—a hell in this life, or a hell in the next. ?" " I have never considered it. Don't let ub worry ourselves about theological mattors during our honeymoon." "You are right, John ; see how quickly I give in to you. I will toll you why, air— because it is a wifo's duty. i'ou will never find me behindhand in that. Our honeymoon ! How nicoly you said it. There shall be nothing but sunshine, and flowers, and tho singing of birds, and love. Oil, what a happy, happy time ! And you are no longer angry with mo that I have ongaged Annotte?" " I am not angry with you at all." "John," she said, shaking her finger playfully at me, " that is an evasion, anil you mustn't set mo bad examples, Answer my question immediately, sir." " Well, Barbara, so long as she does nob bring discord between us—"

She stopped me with a kiss. "No, John, that will not do—really will not do, you bad boy. You mustn't tako unreasonable antipathies to people. A lady's maid has a great deal to put up with, and mistresses are ofton very trying. There, you see, I don't spare myself—oh, no, lam a very just person, and I liko evoryono to bo justly treated. Say at once, sir, that you aro no longer angry with mo for engaging Annette." intrusting the woman as I did, I was forced, for the sake of peace, to express approval of her. Barbara clapped her hands, and declared we should bo quite a happy family. " You have no idea of the sorvico she will be to me," she said, " when we are settled in our dear little home. " I heard her, a little while afterwards, tolling Annetto how pleased I was that sho was coming to England to live with us, but I did not hear Annette's reply. The woman invariably knew when I was near, and on those occasions sho spoke In very low tones. That wo took llttlo outward notice of ono another agreed with her humour and mine. Our conversation soldom wont further than, "Hon jour, Monsieur," " Bon jour, Annette," and to an announcement from time to timo that Madamo wishod to see me. But each kept watch upon the other's muvemonta, and wo were both aware of it. [To be continued on Wednesday next.J