BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10103, 11 April 1896, Page 3 (Supplement)

BETRAYAL OF JOHN FORDHAM.

NOW FIRST PUBLISHED.

BY 15. 1.. FABJBON, Author of " No. 119, Great Porter Square," " Grif," "The March of Fate." "For the Defence,"" Aaron tiie Jew," etc (Ail Rights Hksbrvbd.] CHAPTER XXIII. .—(Continued.) j s.uu nothing to Ellen of this meeting or 0 [ the misery into which I was plunged, To have made her a sharer in my unhappipjjj would servo no good purpose. On the appointed day Maxwell and I met again, mid then lie named a sum so large than I hesitated. It amounted, indeed, to a third of vliat remained of my fortune. " You refuse?" ho ."aid. "1 must," I replied. "I will not submit to be beggared by you." " Sheer nonsense, John. I have made a calculation, and I know, within a hundred or two, how much you aro worth. Cast your eyes over these figures."

Tj my surprise I discovered that his caljuiitioii was as nearly as possible correct, an J that by some means he was fairly well ]iiainted with ray pecuniary position, "li i.« for you to decide," ho said. "I five something to sell which you aro anjii-,«> to purchase. You can make either a fne-il or an enemy of me, and you know win-;her it will be worth your while to buy. ] ,i :, t deny that I am hard up, and that in s certain sense you represent my last c ji;,i ce. lam not fool enough to throw it ii«.iv. Understand clearly—l intend to nuke the heft of it. You see, John, 1 hold the reins, and can tool you comfortably il-.vrn a safe and pleasant road, or I can l.;i1 you headlong to tho devil—and in your company Madame Virtuo. I have jearned something since last week. You j, :t - living hero under an assumed name, s!1 .1 1 hive a suspicion that Madame Virtue j. not aware of it. Another trump card in 1; v hand. It rests with mo whether I h'ini; about an introduction between Barbam and Madame Virtue, and whether 1 briiij: your excellent stepmother and Louis oowii upon you. There's no escape for you, brother-in-law. Ben make a friend of "mo, my boy, and keep the gaino to ourselves," In th? end I consented, with some modiat!™, to lii.- terms, upon bis promise that lie would never molest me again ; and ;ovt> paiteil. Mi liihs passed and I heard nothing more (■; !■: n. dradually I recovered my peace pi '.mud. We were living modestly within our mean!; peace had been cheaply pur-fU.l-t i.

Uur ehil 1 was born, a boy. The delight he ! r. ".'lit in our home cannot bo described. He t\-i5 i heavenly link in our love, ami boon. i Klleii and mo closely together. I will no: dwell upon that joyful time. This c;n.V»um is longer than I conceived it wouli le, and events of a more exciting nature claim attention. One evening upon my return home, after transacting soma business in Bournemouth inconnecion with icy affairs, Ellen,speakin: r>: what had occurred during my sb-ence, mentioned a gentlemanly beggar v.'ho had solicited alms from her. Ho ha I iclJ her a plausible tale of un-meiiv-i misfortune, and of having been a .-lit clown in tlio world by trusting a :rie:i.l who had deceived and robbed him. she described the man, and my heart was like lea I; i recognised the villain. "He«» 3 -o nice to baby,"said Ellen, "and spuke so beautifully of our home, P«vrrt) i- much harder to gentlefolk who have been used to comfort than it is to poor people, i pitied him from my heart." "Blears do not always say what is Hue," I observed.

She locked at me in surprise. "Ho coa'.d hardly be called a beggar, John. D:< 11 do right in relieving him ?" "Q:i',e right, dear," I said, with an inwar 1 prayer that I was mistaken in the man. "lam quite sure he spoke the truth," the saii, and there, as between us, the matter ended. Heine cany hours had passed my fears were confirmed. I kept watch from the cottage, and saw Maxwell in tho distance, coming in our direction. I went to meet him. ''This is friendly of you, John," he said. "Where shall we talk In the society of the charming Madame Virtue and her sweet kibe, or alone? "Alone," I replied. "I forbid you to present yourself in my house again." " A tall word, John, forbid. It depends, ay boy, upon you. Keep a civil tongue in your head, and be amenable to reason and you shall continue to tread tho path of righteousness and peace. Defy me, and up the three of you go. A pretty piece of goods, Madame Virtue, mild tempered and lens suffering, a different kind of character from my adorable sister. I can imagine a scene between them—.Madame Virtue soft, [.'leading, reproachful Barbara hot, flaming, revengeful. But perhaps I mistake, When a wonun discovers that the has been betrayed and deceived she occasionally turn? into i fury. I know something o: tho sex." ''You promised not to molest tne again," "Am I molesting yoa? I come in brotherly love to lay my sorrows at your feet. John, lam broke."

"Turn i.« not ray business." " P.r■:-jll me, it i.-*. We are partners in yoodiiet?, mutually bound to spare d charmin" lady ,m 1 her »weet babe from a sorrow norre th'tn death. It ii a minion I love; it appeal to my tenderest feelings. I feel ?ooi all over." " You tie a devil!" "In hu'Tiility I bow my head. Revile roe, •! ilin, pour burning coals upon mo ; I 'lull enjoy it nil the more. Here I stand, prepare i for the martyr's stake." My Ijloij 1 boiied ; i gave him a dangerous look. "You are trying my patience too far. Drive me to desperation, and I will not answer for the consequence*.' , " Drive me to desperation," he sail, pausing to light a cigarette, " and I will hum her into the gutter. I will make her life a living misery, and when the end comes file -lull cut-e you with her dying breath, lathing like frankness, dear John. Behold Be, an epitome oi it." If I had not turned from him I should have commit te-i some act of violence. It was thought of Ellen alone that restrained Die, thai enabled me to regain my golf, command. He ?iruck at her, not at me, and well did he know his power. When I was linns; with Barbara, I believed thai .Miff..-:-: : ii.i'l reached its limit; I was to learn i li.it I was mistaken. Hitherto I had suffered for myself, .i selfish feeling affecting only my life and future, but now that another being had wound herself into my heart, a sweet and loving woman whose happiness was in my hands, my former misery seemed light indeed. And her babe -my own dear child ! To allow passion to master me would have been unpardonable. " Are you cooler, John ?" asked Maxwell. "In God'a name, , ' I cried, "toll me why you continue to persecute me." "In Gael's name, 1 will. I regret to say, I ••■in suffering from the old complaint, John. Misfortune pursues me, and if I <- ! j'i i have a couple of hundred pound!—" 1 would hear no more. 1 went with him to a public-house, and wrote a cheque for the amount

" Von are a trump," he said, pocketing 'he clicf|uc. " Upon ray soul, if you had a fetter knowledge of mo you would find I [i| ii not .uch a bid follow, after all; but when needs must, John, the devil drives." That night I told Elion that wo must remove from Swannogo. "I shall be very sorry, John, dear," she ■ii!. '' i, Lre illy necessary?" "It is imperative, Ellen." . She sighed. "We have been so happy itre."

'' We can be happy elsewhere, dearest." (l " liy, truly," -he said, brightening up, * lon» a< we aw together what does it Waiter whore wo live?" % idea wu« to escape from my enemy ; 0 Ride ourselves in some corner in Enjr- »■>«. where we should be »afe from his Cru ';l persecution. After much study and epilation 1 fixed upon Cornwall, and wither we went, and established oursolvos " ; > cottage on the outskirts of Penzance. * a » in a fever of alarm during the re-b-.t' h and kept unceasingly on the watch, • observed nothing to cause mo appremm. When wo were settled I breathed we freely ; here, eurcly, in this romoto ci., ( we should be secure Ellen was SWnnl and bright, and she made mo so. " '■me was fully occupied ; she bad hob "We moment; &he did not allow herself tat l, u chiid, the " arde ". tho hl3m °. *& her busy, Her consideration for mo,

[ the loving attention she paid to my slightest wieh, even anticipated ib, touched me deeply. Tenderness waa expressed in every word she apoko, in every movomcnt she made. It would bo imponeible for me to describe how dear she was to me. It is such as sho who have raised woman to tho position iihe holds in the scalo of humanity. »\ hat troubled me greatly was the etato of my finances. The inroads made upon my pnrso by Maxwell's exactions wero so serious that I foresaw the time when, it my wife's allowance was to be continued, I should find myself penniless. We wore living ofc a moderate rato, our expenses bein;,' under thun three pounds a week. The money I had left, apart from tho allowance to Barbara, capitalined, would bring in a littlo over fifty pounds a year, and I felt that I was daily jeopardising Ellen's future and the future of our child, as well us my own. I was nob a businoss man, and had no trade to which I could turn my hand; in England my only weapon was my pen— a poor weapon to moat who have to live by it. Tho difficulty was eolvo;! presently by events of which I wns nob the originator. Meanwhile I wroto a short story which I read to Ellen, and was pleased with myself. Noedless to pay, sho was delightod with it, and elovated mo immediately to the pinnacle of fame. Under a nom dt plume I sent it to a inagazirie ; it was declined. I sent it to another magazine, with tho sumo result. This second came when wo Imd been four weeks in Cornwall, and I went from my house to post it to a third editor when, almost at the door, I saw Maxwell.

" Agnin, John," he criod with brazen effrontery, "liko a bad penny returned. I can't afford to lose eight of you. What n sly dog you are! but lam a slyor. It is an amusing gaino. Set a thief to catch a fchiof, you know." "It is you who are the thief," I said, all my fears roturning, " but you havo had your journey for nothing thin timo. Yon can Kot nothing more out of me, for the best of reasons; you havo robbed me of almost my last penny." "Wo shall see. So you thought to give mo the slip, You may thank your stars you did not succeed. I have come to seo you, nob on my account, but on Barbara's." " You might Imvo spared yourself the trouble,"! said,coldly. "I have nothing to ?ay to her; eho can liuve nothing to say to me." "That is whero yon are mistaken. Passion blinds you, John. Mind, I don' 6 mean to s.'iy you have nothing to complain of. I see now that you wore not suited to one another, and I daresay I was to blame in not opening your eyes bafore you married her. There were reasons. In tho first place—l admit it frankly—l wanted to pet rid of her, lam no saint, but- she tirod me out; honestly, I was sick of her. In the second place she bound me down. 'It is my last clianco,' she said. Why she was engaged three times before you met her, and was found out in time by hot , lovers, who wore not slow in beating a retreat. You wero the unlucky one to fall into the trap, and though I've been hard on you I am sorry for yon. In running away from her and taking up with another woman you did what I should have dono if I ha 1 beon in your place. However, it is all at an end now."

"At an end!" 1 echoed, regarding him with amazement. "At an end," ho repeated, gravely. " Yin will sxin be free, and then I suppose you will wash your hands of me. Well! Perhaps I shall have a bit of luck in another quarter. I don't mind telling you that 1 had a man watching you all tho time you were in Swannage, I knew when you left and where yon ran to. I could have been hero three weeks ago if I had wished, and I have only come to bring you the news. Barbara is dying." God forgive ms, tho oxclamntion that escaped me was not ono of horror, bub of relief; and tho next moment I was shocked at myself. "She had behaved abominably," he con tinuod, " but, after all, she is your wifo, and you can hardly refuse to see her, and whisper a word of forgiveness—supposing we are in time, I left hor this morning; the doctor was with her, and said he doubted whether sho would live over tomorrow."

"It is so sudden," I said, and still my thoughts continued to dwell upon Ellen and our child. '' Has she been long ill ?" "She has not been ill at all in that sense," he replied. "It was an accident. Yesterday morning, when »ho was in her usual state— understand, John— slipped from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and broke- her spino. Tho momont the doctor saw her he said there was no hope. Will you come ?" It was my duty'; I should have been less than man had I hesitated. " I'es," I said, " I will come. When is tho next train ?" "It starts in an hour, if you can get ready by that time." " I will meot you at the station," I paid, and went at once to Ellen to inform her of what had occurred. She approved of my going and hastened my departure. For Barbara she had only words of pity, and her eyes overflowed in commiseration for tho wasted lifo so near its end. In this crisis it would have been contrary to nature had wo not thought of ourselves, and of what Barbara's death meirit to us, but it was a subject wo avoided. I breathed a blessing over our sleeping child, and promising to write to Ellen directly I got to London, 1 bade her L'ood-bye. Maxwell was at tho station. "Plenty of time, John," ho said, "the train doemi't store for half an hour. You'!! stand me a brandy and soda and a sandwich, I suppose, 1 haven't had a bite or a drink since the morning. I'm shipwrecked again. Servo me right, you'll say. So says 1. I shall have to turn over a now leaf. Would you believe I had to travel third-class, and didn't have money enough to pay for a return ticket? Hard lines tor a gentleman ; but such is life," " You'll have to travel back third-class," 1 paid. " I have no money to waste." He grumbled at this, but 1 paid no heed to him. After disposing of his brandy and soda ho asked for another, which I refused. Ho laughed and complimented me upon dieplaying a strength of character which he had r.ot given me credit for. If 1 hail not hurried him he would liavo missed tho train. Few people were travelling by it, and we hid a comp'irtinont to ourselves. Such conversation as wr hud on the journey was of his necking ; meeting with no encouragement from mo he leant back moodily and closed his eyes. Quito two hours passed without a word being exchanged, when suddenly ho said: "John, after Barbara's death yon will marry Madame Virtue, of course. How soon after? I ahull expect; an invitation, old fellow." I did not answer him, and he made no further attempts at conversation. At tho end of our journoy I asked him whore Barbara lived. " Islington way," ho said, sulkily, and calling a cab, gave tho driver the address.

Tho cab pulled up ub the door of a wretched house in a narrow Htreet between " The Anirel" and the Agricultural Hall. I paid the man and followci Maxwell to the second floor, where, opening a door, he fell back, motioning mo tu enter first. Tho room wna in semi-darkness, the window curtains hoing drawn down. "Is that you, John?" a voice aeked, and at tho s-iinc moment tho curtains were drawn aside. It wen the voice of my stopinother. From an inner room came the sound of drivelling laughter. Aa I turned and saw Maxwell standing with his back against tho door, and an indolent *mile on his face, suspicion entered my mind. It wag to boido extent confirmed when I observed the insolent smile reflected on the faco of my stepmother. "Barbara is atill aiivo, dear brother-in-law," said Maxwell, laughing quietly to himself. "You are in time, you see. Oh, yes, you are in timo. I threw open thb door of the adjoining room. A Bbrango woman wae there, standing by a ciiair in which Barbara was lolling. Except that she had more unwieldy, that her eyo* were bleared and dim, and that her drivollini; mouth and hanging jaws gave her tho appearance of a besotted hut;, ehe bore no truces of a mortal illness such as Maxwell had described. The truth rushed upon me with convincing force. I had been irickod. "Neat, wasn'b it?" exclaimed Maxwell, as I closed the door upon the disgusting sighr. " Would you boliove," addrosiung my stepmother, "that our dear John was actually calculating the time when he would be free to marry the low woman for whom be deserted his lawful wife ?" " I would believe anything ot hini|" said my stepmother,

"I warn you," I said. "Another such allusion, and I will thrash you within an inch of your life." " Oh! I'm not to bo frightened by threats," he blustered, "and I not ?oingf to quarrel with you." " You will gain nothing by bhe trick you have played me," 1 said. "I am already making your sistor an allowance which my moans, do nofc warrant, and which no courb of k.w would compel mo to pay." " A pretence of poverty for which we are prepared. And we are prepared, also, to mako your affairs public property unless you listen to reason."

" You are in a plot against) me," I said to my stopmother. " That is a lie," aho replied, composodly. " I am not in any plot against you, but I am ready to give evidence when called upon." " We are hero, John, in the presence of ft witness, , "said Maxwell, "for tho purpose of coming to an understanding. You havo had sufficient experience of me to be aware by this time that you aro no match for me. If you wish to be left in peace, to load any life you choose, you will have to pay for it. Shall I name the price?" "Ib will be quite useless. You will never obtain another shilling from me." " You -hall havo the opportunity to consider it, John. For one thousand pounds— a sum you can well afford to pay—you shall bo left for ever at peace, to go your own way to the devil, I will bind myself never to molest you again by any legal document you may lay before me. Consider it well, brother-in-law. What I offer in worth the price." "It needs no consideration. You havo my answer." " I givo you a week to think it over," ho continued. "If then you persist in your refusal, I will dog you like your shadowand not only you, but Iho lady; obeervo how polite I am—in whom you take an interest. I will hunt you down and make your life and hers a daily misery. You may bo able to stand it for a time. If lam any judge of appearances, she will not. You havo a gift of imagination. Imagino the worst I can do and you will fall ihort of the reality. If not for your own sake, John, for hers, think it over." " You have my answer," I repeated; and brushing him aside, I loft the house. (To lie continued.