Fiction.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1160, 25 May 1894, Page 8

Fiction.

HER FATHER’S IDOL. By JIBS BASELEY (“ JTiunon ”). (copyright.) CHAPTER XVI. “ I must not givo way in this childish manner!” Nelly cried, desperately, as she ro3e. “ I shall need a woman’s power, a woman’s skill to aid me. Lot mo read whilst I have the chance how far my—my husband is villain and knave!” Anyone seeing the resolute face, the strong will then would fail to have recognised Dr Henstock’s timid, retiring, happy Nelly. Her trust, though crushed, had merged itself into a self-reliance. She meant to be brave, no longer daunted. Several oilier shocks she received as she pursued her survey. A certificate of marriage between Mark Boyd and Olga Votoski, not six months before her own marriage. He must have been married, then, the day he had contrived to wdiisper such sweet words into her ears at the Vicar’s picnic. Her lips curled with scorn. If ho had treated Olga, whose memory he always spoke of with respect, in such a lax manner, how might ho not bo serving her, whom latterly he had made no professions of affection for ? No certificate of her marriage was there, though he assured her he had precured one. The second sight that opened her eyes was a printed copy of the reward that had been offered for her recovery. One hundred pounds ! Her father had not been cold—angry, he had done his utmost to recover her. She burst into tears, she shook her hands. She might have gone back then and been welcomed. How could she go now ? But she would not pause. Plenty of time for deliberation, thought Nelly, when her task was ended. The next lot of papers were labelled “ Gunton’s affair.” Nelly-actually laid those aside as worthless—useless. She knew no Gunton or Gun tons. But most of the other search was ended. The receipt might be there, so she opened them. A slip of paper—a piece cut out of a column —fluttered down at her feet. It was an account of George Treveryan’s fatal tragedy. Mark’s name was slightly mixed up in it. Not sufficient for Nelly to more than slip her eyes over. She turned to the letters. Some were from Roy, Maisie, Charlie Gunton, and one at last was in Mark’s own writing. To turn that and read it was the work of a moment. It took the form of a diary, and was dated February 6, ’9O. “He has written this here, this very year,” thought Nelly. “ What shall I do if Charlie betrays me ? Be friendly again he will not. It is useless swearing to him that I shot Treveryan accidentally—he saw it all! Good heavens! the fool I was to do this, .and all for the sake of a proud, haughty gill. True, Treveryan angered me, but I could have got over that if he had not won what I wanted. Luckless wight! that Charlie should have seen me. I might have despatched him, only he was my friend (?) and I was a little sentimental.

“ I have used every persuasion to induce Charlie to lot bygones be bygones, but lie won't see me. Still, I scarcely think he will set me dangling at tho rope end, else why has he not done it bofore ? For days I lived in dread. Once I would have let. the train crush me in my despair, but she —the evil star of my life—saved me. Was there ever a worse fate for a man than that I embraced when I married! Bah! I have not married. Olga lives, I imposod on her. She is as hard, however, to throw off as if she had been my wife. I would shake her away tomorrow, only, worse luck for me, what would be the consequence ? She would be back at her precious father’s, and I should have a hornet's nest about my head. What the deuce made me take her away from Slackaby ? I was not sharp there. I do not like poison or murder in any shape. I am not naturally bad, but I must get rid of her somehow! Mark, my boy, fate was too strong for you in Treveryan’s case; your aim was too sure, your passion too strong there! Now, no blubbering, you would not do it again if time could roll back. •Of course not. Maisie won’t smile, or even see you. You committed murder for nothing—you ” “ Air yo oopstairs or not ?” shrieked Mrs Smith’s concerned and angry voice ; “ theer’s master athunderin’ at th’ gate, and I thowt yo’d better hev warnin’!” A thunderbolt at Nelly’s feet cculd not have caused her greater dismay and confusion. “ Wait, wait! just a minute,” she said, in utter fright and bewilderment; " oh, don’t let him find me here!” She thrust the diary she was reading into her breast, and bundled tho papers back into his desk. But that, instead of returning to its proper place, she hid under the bed. There was no time for thought; she was scarcely conscious of what she did. She was aware that some horrible nightmare was over her, that some dreadful objection to ever seeing or speaking to Mark again convulsed her very being. Yet he was here; ho would find that she had discovered his guilt, if she were not sharp, subtle. Perhaps he might even kill her if ho foimd out what she had done. She must dissemble, be wary. Yet how dreadful she felt, and how could she meet him again ? How give or receive a kiss ? Trembling in every limb, she went down, and was in time to take a seat before he entered. “ Fine reception this,” he growled, “ keeping a man outside his own doors fully five minutes to get starved to death,”

He made no attempt to saluto her. Ho was too thoroughly angry, not, as lie averred, however, at his detention; that would have been sufficient, in itself, had not something far more serious, previously intervened. i “ Did not Mrs Smith hear you ?” Nolly managed to say. “Go and put the blame on her, do. Just like your charity. You, an idle, useless thing, can’t even undo the door!” It was too good an opportunity to loso. Not for retaliation, not for protection, sympathy, redress. Those were all forgotten, unheeded, but for conversation. Anything on which to concentrate her thoughts, her tongue. Mark must bo engrossed. She must have time to decide what course to pursue. So for the present she would have to interest him. “ Is it better to be locked out or in ?” she asked. Mark gave her one of his odd, scrutinising glances, as if to penetrate how much or little her query implied. Her gaze was fixed on the wall opposite, and she did not see his look. “ In, you simpleton, of course; you aro warm in the house.” “Outside you aro free,” said Nelly; “inside you are coerced against your will.” She rapidly detailed the events of the morning. Mark gave a loud laugh as she ended. “ Bravo! Mrs Smith. She gave you one there, Nelly. But where is my dinner ? You begin to worry me as usual directly I arrive. Why don’t you have some consideration for me ?” Nelly suddenly remembered that she had had no dinner herself. Something warm would do her good. She rose and rang the bell. “ Why don’t you go and see what that poor over-worked woman is doing, and help her, instead of sitting there with your hands folded ; a fine lady, ringing for all you require ?” sneered Mark. Nelly made no reply. She had grown accustomed to such treatment, even had not sterner thoughts been hers at that moment. “ What is thero for dinner, Mrs Barry ?” “ I don’t know. I ” “ You don’t know!” exclaimed Mark, only too glad to at last find some substantial cause for grievance ; " and you have the cool audacity, the startling effrontery to calmly admit it. A truly laudable 1 housekeeper. Pray, if you don’t know what there is, who should ? A pretty state of things this!” ~ “ Mark, you aro aware that I am not the housekeeper. Mrs Smith does all that. You never even give mo tho money.” She might not have answered so ; often had they gone over the same subject before, but anything—anything till hor plans were matured.” Mrs Smith entered with a tray, which she jerked on the table with a bang. She was as much fitted to be a pai’lour maid as she was to bo a bishop ; moreover, she liked tho office about as little. It was hor invariable custom to perform such work resentfully, and as if offended, though stolid enough over all else. Nelly had beon daintily reared, her smallest.wants attended to as assiduously as is a lady’s prerogative. She always felt Mrs Smith’s coarseness and want of refinement.

“ Can’t you do that ?” said Mark sharply to Nelly. “ I’vo jest doon, yo can set still,” said Mrs Smith, surlily. “ You’ve got a hot joint, I hope,” said Mark.

“ Indeed, and I haven’t, She ” —jerking her head at Nelly—“ eats but little. I thowt the cold mutton ud do. There’s naught much but the bone. I’d no money; but if I’d known for positive as yo’d be coinin’ I’d hev gone to Fogarty’s.” “ It is not your fault, good Mrs Smith ; don’t think I blame you. You are only under orders, as I may say. It’s this grand lady wife of mine who is too idle to raise her voice for my benefit!” Nelly clutched her two hands together for endurance. His injustice, added to her horrible knowledge of liis villainy, made it more difficult for her to keep silence. He knew as well as she did that she had no power to order or buy anything. That her position all alcng with him had been a sinecure; +hat he had taken care to cut her wings at the very start; leaving her utterly incapable of getting the slightest thing sho wished. Only once, and that was when he ■was in a rare good humour, had he given her a spade-guinea to hang on her chatelaine. It was the solo cash that she had had to finger since her illstarred nuptials. Even her own purse, with its contents, which had turned up in her box with suspicious quickness after her arrival at Hendon, he robbed her of, saying she had no need of money, he would take care of it for her—in other words, spend it. “ I’ll teach you to work and do differently,” he said, sneeringly. Mrs Smith’s stolid countenance remained immovable, but Nelly thought not of that. “ What must the woman’s estimation of her be, to hear her spoken to like a dog by tho man who ought at least to have paid her outward courtesy ? It must bo nice to he Mrs Smith, who was always right.” {To be continued.)