A LITTLE FRIENDLY ADVICE.

New Zealand Mail, 21 July 1892, Page 9

A LITTLE FRIENDLY ADVICE.

(The World.) ‘This is very serious—very serious indeed,’ said Mrs Florence, thoughtfully ; ‘ but I am glad you have told me all about it. You say she writes to him nearly every day, and you think she is an actress ?’ ‘ I am sure she is,’ said Mrs Cartwright. ‘No one but an actress could write such a great sprawling hand or use such note-paper—a huge gold monogram, three inches long, on the envelope. Besides, he owns he has been to the theatre twenty times since the first night, when we went together. He says it’s for the music, though he couldn’t recognise “ God save the Queen” if you played it to him. I shall find out who it is, and then tell him I know all. Wouldn’t you do that ?’

‘No,’ said Mrs Florence, emphatically, ‘ I should not. To begin with, you may be utterly wrong. And if you are right, there may be nothing in it. Actresses are not dangerous, and men are such fools that they run after them because others do. It is such a terrible thing to be jealous without any cause, that if I were you T would just do nothing.’

Mrs Florence and Mrs Cartwright were old friends. They had both married young, and, during two years of married life, had continued close allies, so it was only natural that so serious a question as the faithfulness of their respective lords and masters should be discussed between them.

‘ If you once get suspicious,’ continued Mrs Florence, ‘ everything he does will seem suspicious ; and then you will do something foolish that jou may regret all your life. I suspected Jack once ’ ‘ And you never told me ? How mean of you 1' ‘ I think you were away at the time. Yes, I suspected dear old Jack of all sorts of villainies, and very nearly let him see 1 did. lam almost ashamed to tell you about it now—but I will, though, as a solemn warning to you not to be rash.’

‘ You know, at first I fell [into the mistake of trying to keep him at home

whenever we weren’t out together. I quite hated the friends of his bachelor days, and hoped he would drop them all. Well, he did just what I liked —pretended he never wanted to see anybody but me, and was horribly bored, but never grumbled. Then I told him to ask any of his friends to little dinners at home, which would be much jollier than any dinners at his clubs. Oh, those dinners 1 They were the most ghastly ! I could see that, though he said they were delightful. J soon gave them up, and told him to go to his clubs if he wanted to see his men-friends. . And he promptly went.’ £ Of course. Men are such selfish wretches.’ ‘ Perhaps. But perhaps we aren’t much better. Well, I gave way with a good grace ; but I couldn’t bear one of his friends—Captain Hawkins. You know him. He and Jack had 'known each other all their lives, and he couldn’t understand that if Jack resquired a companion for Sandown, Hurlingham, or Xempton, he had one 'ready in me. He was always coming and fetching Jack away without a moment’s notice. Morning and eventing were just the same to him. He would drop in before I was down to breakfast, or in the middle of dinner, perfuming the whole house with the great cigar he used ostentatiously to throw away as he came into the hall. You can’t think how I got to hate the man’s jolly, good-tempered looking face, and ringing, out-of-doors sort of voice. He used to mumble what he no doubt thought were graceful apologies for his behaviour. 44 It’s too bad taking the old boy away from the domestic hearth, ain’t it now, Mrs Florence?” And I used to try and freeze him with my answer, and never succeeded. “ The old boy ” was so fond of him, and so glad to leave the domestic hearth, that I was all the angrier.’ ‘No wonder !’ said Mrs Cartwright, feelingly. ‘ Well, one evening, when the gallant Captain had dined with us, and I had demeaned myself by allowing them to smoko in the drawing-room, he took Jack away to the club in the most barefaced manner just as the coffee came in, and left me to brood over my wrongs alone. I remember composing some bitterly cutting speeches to be delivered next time he came, being ready to cry all the while, when I noticed a half-burnt bit of paper in the fender. It was evidently the fragment of a letter. Captain Hawkins had lighted his cigarette with it just as they went out. Some of the paper was burnt quite black, but a good large piece had escaped, and in this I could see the writing, perfectly legible. 4 What would you have done? I picked it up and read it carefully. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t recognised the handwriting. I read it, put it inside a sheet of notepaper, and locked it up in my desk.’ *Oh ! what was it ? Something dreadful V asked Mrs Cartwright, eagerly. ‘ Perfectly dreadful ! I can tell you, word for word. I don’t think I can ever forget those words, or the effect they produced on me. 44 I am in despair about Yiolet. She refuses again and again. Either she is not as fast as you think she is, or I am not the man you think I am.” This was, of course, a letter from my husband ; there was no dcubt about bis hand, very little about the meaning. The Captain had probably not noticed what it was when he took it out of hi* pocket, or he would never have used it. That was all I could read on one side of the paper. And quite enough, ono might think. But lest I should calm myself with any false hopes, or still doubt its sinister meaning, there was another sentence on the other side—- “ course my wife must know nothing of ”

“ All that evening I sat staring into the fire, vaguely v/ondering what I was to do. It was such a sudden blow, you see, and found me so utterly unprepared. I had thought Jack all that was noblest and best in the world. I had given him all my love and all my trust, and now to find him self-convicted of carrying on a base intrigue with some wretch—it was maddening ! < £ Violet! "Violet!" I kept repeating to myself. Wliat is she like ? Shall I •ever see her? I racked my brain to think of the Christian names of every • woman I knew that Jack knew. There •wasn’t a Violet among them. It was mo consolation to know that she and . Jack were not as yet guilty, that he -was in despair because she was not as ■fast as that arch-fiend had told him.

Jack was false, and had fallen in love with some other woman. That was the poison ; and I cared for nothing else.’ ‘ Oh ! my poor dear, what could you do ?’

‘ What I advised you to do—nothing. As the dreary hours passed by I grew calmer, and decided that, no matter wlaat it cost me to control my feelings, I would not let him guess that I had discovered his treachery. I would watch and wait, praying that this evil might yet be averted; or, if it was to be, that I might have strength to face it. I would wait, and if I found that he was really false, would leave him, without one word of explanation—for ever ! Now see how I acted up to my grand resolution. About a week after my fatal discovery we were dining at tlie Coppers’. You know the sort of people one meets there. It was a large party, and I sat opposite Jack at dinner. I was told off to a dreadful old bore, so I had nothing to prevent me from studying my unsuspecting husband and the lady next him. She was a Mrs Sinclair—a very handsome woman, with horrid, bold, black eyes, black hair coming down to her eyebrows, no forehead, a hateful lot of diamonds, and a bodice that I would sooner have died than wear. Now the moment that woman was announced, the moment I met her black eyes, I felt a prophetic shiver. When I saw Jack knew her, I shivered again; when I saw he was to take her down to dinner, I turned quite faint. Curious, wasn’t it ?’ ‘lt was she V

‘ How that woman talked ! First loud, then almost in whispers —about everything a woman oughtn’t to talk about, as far as I could hear —pigeonshooting, hurdle-racing, baccarat, music halls, poker, and ballet dancers. And how she laughed ! Jack and the man on the other side of her both talked at once, and almost glared at each other at intervals. I had never seen Jack enjoy himself so much, and never seen him behave so badly. I believe every woman at the table hated her.

4 Well, when we got into the draw-ing-room, the creature came straight across, and sat down on a sofa close to me, fanning herself and smiling at me. 44 I was luckier in my attendant squire than you were, Mrs Florence What a delightful man your husband is ! 3 like him so much that I should like to know his wife.” I was paralysed at her audacity, and could hardly speak, when up came Lady Cooper —you know, her only conception of the hostess’ art is to make her guests uncomfortable—and introduced us to each other. ‘Then she talked—l mean the creature did—and wouldn’t take the most fearful snubs I ever attempted to any one. Wanted to know if I was going to the fancy ball at the operahouse on the 25th. Of course she was going—in a domino—and expected to have no end of fun. She had got a dozen men to look after her, and meant to thoroughly go in for the true spirit of the thing. Then she actually told me I was looking tired and ill. 4 “ Oh, no ; only rather bored,” I replied. 4 44 Isn’t that one of the things one would rather have left unsaid ?” she asked, arranging her diamond bangles with unruffled composure. 4 What I should have said then I don’t know, for my attention was suddenly riveted by one of her bracelets. It was a bracelet with a name in brilliants. And the name was “ Violet”! 4 44 Is that your name ?” I gasped out, pointing at the thing with my fan. 1 44 Yes, my dear,” she said. 44 Isn’t it a pretty name ! What’s yours ?” ’ 4 Then your instinct was correct,’ said Mrs Cartriglit. 4 What an awful woman !’ 4 That night, on the way home, I told Jack I should like to go to the fancy-dress carnival ball on the 25th, and asked him to take me. He said he couldn’t think of it. It wouldn’t be right. No ladies would be there — or only the fast contingent. It was on the tip of my tongue to say that Mrs Sinclair must have increased her pace then, for she was going ; but I refrained with an effort. I pressed him to take me, and at last he said it was impossible in any case, because he had pledged himself to Dickie Hawkins to go down into the Midlands to stay one night only one night with his people; and that night would be the night of the ball. It was too dark in the brougham to see his face when he said this; but his voice sounded strained and unnatural, as if lie felt a

spark of shame at his deception. I was not surprised. I had made up my mind that lie was to be one of Mrs Sinclair’s bodyguard from the first. ‘ It was a week to the 25th, and that week was the most miserable time in my whole life. Heaven forbid that you should suffer' what I did then ! Jack left me alone more and more. He was out every day till lunch, and sometimes till dinner. In the evening he stayed at home once or twice, as if trying to stifle the voice of his guilty conscience by that small concession to duty. These evenings were worse torture than all the rest. To see him sitting on the other side of the fire, with a black gulf of dark suspicion between us; to have to make talk and pretend to be merry, with the great clumsy Captain hovering near me as I poured out the tea, or picking up my work when it fell from my lap, was a frightful ordeal. And I felt as wicked as I knew they were, for carrying on the deceit—for not challenging them with their guilt, and then leaving them to their shame. For, you see, I had almost given up my noble resolution already. I tried to goad myself on to do something grand—to sacrifice myself once and forever for the honour of my sex; but it was no use. I couldn’t. I was too fond of Jack ; I was fonder of him now than before, and I couldn’t help hoping that there was some hideous mistake—that he was not really guiLty. Men are so vain and weak, I told myself; tins vanity has led him into an evil path ; that villain and that wretched woman are luring him on ; bub Providence may open bis eyes to the right, and save him yet I used to think—if I could only fall ill, desperately ill, and win him back on the brink of the grave I didn’t want to die, you understand, but just to be as near dying as would be comfortable. ‘ On the morning of the 24th I made a last appeal. I heard him give some directions to his man as I came down to breakfast, and as soon as we were alone I spoke. 44 Jack,” I said, 44 will you grant me tlie first great favour I have asked you since our marriage ? Don’t go away with Captain Hawkins ; stop with me.” ‘ My heart was too full to say more. Besides, nothing more was required. He knew the wrong he was doing, and no words of mine could have made him know it better.’ ‘And did he relent?’

4 No, my dear ; not a bit of it. He said I was unreasonable to ask him such si thing. His word was pledged to Dick—would I have him break it ? Dick bad depended on him for assistance, and if the assistance were denied, would be in hopeless difficulties. He would take the earliest train from Wolverhampton next day, and be back before lunch. Would that satisfy me ? 4 “ By all means,” I replied, and did not say another word till he went out. 4 1 will spare you a description of my feelings that morning—perhaps you can guess them. I walked about the bouse almost distraught, going in and out of every room, unable to think coherently. At last I sat down in Jack’s dressingroom before his half-packed portmanteau, and was just going to indulge in a good cry, when something suddenly dried my eyes with sudden anger. It was a large cardboard box on a chair, with tlie lid half off, and a lot of tissuepaper and a piece of crimson silk bulging over the edge. His fancy dress ! A preposterous silk jacket, all the colours of the rainbow, a great flopping jockey cap, cambric breeches, and boots as tliin as paper. And it was in this clown’s costume that my husband was to dance in the train of my triumphant rival ! I could have torn it into shreds and tatters on the spot —and would have done so, perhaps, but I beard bis voice in the hall. He had come back to finish his packing. There was no time for thought, and I was too wild just then to think. I seized the things, box and all, rushed into my room, and locked the door. And then I began to get frightened. The terrible scene was coming. The awful explanation was inevitable —and after the explanation ? He was calling me from the next room. Wbat was I to do ? I flung open the ward robe, crowded the things into the box, put it it in the wardrobe, and hid it with Then, with beating heart a ad throbbing temples, I opened the door. 4 He was in the dressing-room, shouting for tlie servants, ringing the bells, throwing his clothes all over the floor, so agitated that he hardly noticed mo at first. 4< Confound those

servants ! They have taken some of my things,” he explained. 44 You haven’t seen a box here, have you ? I told that fool Dick to take them down himself. Why the devil couldn’t he do as he was told ? The train goes in forty minutes. He has gone to see her into the box. What am I to do? What am I to do ? ’

‘ I had no pity for him in his distress, but was terribly frightened by his vehemence, for he got worse and worse as the minutes slipped by and still the costume could not be found.

4 Then at last my indignation got the upper hand, and I challenged him to explain himself. What an explanation it was ! Violet was not Mrs Sinclair, but a mare of Captain Hawkins ! Dick was going to ride her in a steeplechase down in the Midlands next day !

4 Among my other follies I had made him solemnly promise, in our honeymoon, that he would never ride in another race, and he had kept faith until now. His friend Dick had tempted him. He had given way, but had been too much of a craven to tell me about it till it was all over, for fear I should forbid him.

4 No w, doesn’t that show how jealousy can blind one, and what stupid things we can do under its influence '? Be warned by me, and don’t commit yourself, until you are absolutely positive that you have convicted him.’