The End of the Story.

New Zealand Mail, 3 December 1896, Page 18

The End of the Story.

BY A. VALENTINE LAURIE. (Specially written for the New Zealand Mail.) CHAPTER I. the heroine, the daughter 'lldp of a man in a very humble position in life, was admired for her beauty and talents by a man many years her senior, but rich and influential. Being heart-free and tempted by his great wealth, she married him, and years afterwards met her fate m the person of Garstin Sand, a boundary rider on her husband’s estate.

This in brief was the plot of the story they were writing—having gone in for two experiments, a platonic friendship and the writing of a novel. He was a journalist, young, poor and ambitious, at present ‘ recruiting’ after a sharp attack of typhoid fever, at the bush station of Frank Bartron, with whom he had scraped acquaintance at a club in town. She was a clever, talented woman, who, growing weary of the monotony of life as a village schoolmistress, had married Frank Bartron, or rather his acres, his sheep, and his banking account, for a change! At first she had fancied the change a good one, but afterwards, when the novel sensation of having as much money and as many new dresses as she wanted had worn off, she discovered that life on a bush station with Frank Bartron as a life-long companion was endurable, and that was all.

Mr Bartron was one of the least imaginative and most practical of men. The birth of his boy roused him for a week or two, and then he calmly settled down to the perfectly congenial task cf looking after his crops and his sheep, while his wife was like Alexander, ‘ pining foi fresh woi'lds to conquer.’ The advent of Jack Crossley, fresh from the charmed world of books and papers, bright, sparkling and thoroughly up to date in all his ideas, made a welcome break in the grayness of things m general, and Mrs Bartron made a mental resolve to take all the pleasure she could get out of the note of brightness. His proposal, that to while away the winter evenings they should write a novel together, she hailed with joy. Here at least was a safe outlet for her restrained nature, thoughts and ideas. For on paper, she argued, one can always be natural. Given a woman in this frame of mind, and a man with sufficient brains to admire her, the result is not hard to arrive at. Already they were half in love with each other, platonic friendship notwithstanding.

They were walking slowly down the straight country road, bounded on either hand by Frank’s paddocks, talking of Art (in capitals) and of everything save the subject that interested them the most deeply. While they walked and talked, the short June afternoon waned. The sun dropped down behind the Ruahines in a blaze of light dazzling to behold, and left a tiny, golden cloudlet trailing over the mountain top.

‘ Look Minnie! what a picture for our story, if we could only gather up all the glory of the golden clouds and purpleshadowed hills, and put it into words.’ (They were ‘ good friends ’ these two, and called each other by their Christian names as a matter of course. Frank saw no harm in it —indeed, if Jack had called Minnie ‘ darling ’ to his face, Frank would have thought no wrong of it.) ‘ It has been such a perfect day, thero can never be just such another,’ he went on in a tone of vague regret, and, as Minnie turned to look at him, it flashed across her how on one occasion early in her married life she had spoken to Frank of the marvellous beauty of the June sunset. And while the splendour of the mountains veiled in tho solemn, purple mists of coming night, had moved her almost to tears, Frank had laughed at her, and told her that she was a ‘silly ’little fool.’ And that was in the days when they should have been lovers too ! But this man understood, Tlis horizon, was not bounded by the flocks on yonder hill.

Antipathy and sympathy, but the sympathy was just three years too late. ‘ A perfect day, yes,’ she said ; ‘ but unfortunately it cannot last. Already the night is coming. Before we reach home it will be dark, and all you will have left of your perfect day will be the memory of it. But we must really turn back now, Frank will be wondering where we have got to and wanting his tea.’

‘ Oh, bother Frank—l beg your pardon, but, you see, Frank has you always. Besides I’m going away in a day or two. Had a letter from the chief to-day. It seems they ,cannot do without my invaluable services any longer. And I want to talk about our novel. We have one or two matters in connection with it to fix up yet. But, I say, Minnie, are you sorry I’m going ?’

‘ Oh, of course, it’s rather a pity you’ve got to go before we’ve finished. And yet I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I’m getting just a bit tired of the joys of authorship, I think.’

‘Fm sorry if it has bored you, but you know you were so delighted with the experiment at first. But I won’t bother you any more, though I did want your advice over a dhapter that is getting somewhat muddled. I think I shall just leave it as it is, and call it f An Unfinished Story,’ shall I, Minnie ?’

They were standing now facing the dying sunset.

He could see the unshed tears in her eyes she angered, ‘ Indeed it would be a

thousand pities to do that. Remember, too, that I am concerned in the venture. It is our book. You surely wouldn’t wish to involve me in a failure.’

He flicked at an imaginary something in the air with his cane before he answered. ‘ Suppose that after all it should be a failure in all senses ? ’ he suggested. ‘ Why should it be ? I hate the thought of giving any venture up. There is something craven and fainthearted about it,’ she answered.

‘ You believe in seeing a thing through. Very well. Minnie has met Garstin. We’ve got that far. Now, I want to know how it is going to end? You see I’m afraid that if we follow the affair out to its logical conclusion she will fall in love with him. They say that women never are by any means logical. I put the question to you, is she to be allowed to do it? In short, is she to be a conventional woman, and remain with the man she does not love for the mere sake of his money, or a true one, and fly with the man she does love, and who loves her in return ? ’

‘Do you want me to say exactly what I think ? ’

‘By all means. The truth at any cost,’ and there is a note of suppressed eagerness in his tones. ‘ Then let her follow her own heart.’ ‘Even if it should lead her to Garstin Sand’s arms. Would you advise that ? ’ ‘ Yes, if it should lead her to happiness as well. I think that having created our brain’s children, we should let them go their own way and woric out their own salvation.’

‘ Or the—other thing,’ he suggested. ‘ Yes; or the other thing, as you put it. Remember, that to me the characters in our little story are not puppets, but real flesh and blood, men and women. I have real human feelings about them, yet you coolly talk of regulating their affections, just as you would regulate the works of your watch ! I daresay nature never intended me for an author. I can't be cool enough about my creations. It’s just as well that you are going, and that the story is still unfinished, for you can make it end to yottr own satisfaction. I’m tired of the whole thing.’ She ended with a little wail of regret in her voice for her own spoilt life. Jack had always admired her. Her unorthodox daring ideas were so akin to his own. She was intellectual, brilliant, vivacious, the very woman to complete his life. With her help his most ambitious dreams might be realised. It was a thousand pities that she should be wasted on Frank Bartron, whom any ordinary, pretty, commonplace woman would have satisfied. She stood there facing him with her back against the wire fence, a small, dainty, refined little creature, with a look of recklessness in her big blue eyes. Then the foundations of Platonic friendship were razed to the ground, and the whole fabric toppled over. lie did just what any other man must have done, even though he knew the madness of it —he took her in his arms, and told her what she knew already—that he loved her. ‘My poor little Minnie ! Do you think that I did not know that you were writing your own story ? You must decide now how it is to end. Shall I give you the end in your own words. Be true to your own heart, follow it, for you love me, and you never loved Frank, though unfortunately you married him. Nay, do not try to get away from me, Minnie. Let me tell you the plain, unvarnished truth. Which is the greater sin—to be false to your husband in word or in deed ? In theory, you believe that love is the beginning and ending of all things. But you are afraid to put your theory into practice. At this moment you would like to be a conventional woman of the world that you might recoil from me in horror because I have said these things to you. But if you are true to yourself, Minnie, you can’t do it.’ She raised herself from his arms, and covered her eyes. ‘ Jack, be merciful to me. I—l never meant things to end like this. But I’m tired to death of always acting. All my life is a living lie. Oh, if you only knew all the misery and wretchedness of it ! and I thought that for one little while I might be my natural self with the mask off. But you have spoilt it all. Oh, why did you ever come ? If you had not come I might have gone on through all the years “ making believe,” but now —do you know what you are asking me to do ?’ ‘ Yes, simply to be true to yourself. Act as you would make Minnie Maythoruo in the story do. Dare to do in reality what you would on paper. Surely it is right that you should get the most good you can out of your life, and be loved and cheriahgd as other women are. On the one harjd there are convention!)lity, Frank, yearsrbf hypocrisy and silent misery. On the other, though the world may look askance at you, truth, freedom and happiness. Think of the future. The long, lonely years that lie before you. Can you bear all this, merely for the sake of outward respectability ? Is not all this the plain, stern, naked truth, Minnie ? And having found the truth, will you have tho courage to go back and take up the old life of shams ?’.

‘ No. I can never go back to the old life, and it is all true, Jack, that you have been saying, but all the same it is an awful thing that I am going to do. I want to think it all out. I suppose I am a pitiful coward when it comes to the doing of the deed, as all other women are. I want to cling to my mantle of respectability as long as I can. I am afraid, Jack, even with your arms around me, to let myself go. It’s like a bad nightmare, you know, when you feel that you are falling, falling through miles of space.’ She laughed softly. ‘ It seems sacrilege to laugh, doesn’t it, when one is on the verge of committing a heinous sin P But I feel that I roust laugh for joy to think that in a little while, I may be free if I choose, to take my destiny in my own hand. Free to love and to be loved in return ! It seems that it must be too good to be true, But you must go away

now—to-morrow, and leave me to think over all the possibilities of it. In a little while I will come to you and tell you the end of the story/ CHAPTER 11. There had been a great storm the night before. The waves were still rolling in, four abreast, with a heavy, sullen roar. In the dim half light and pelting rain Jack was pacing up and down, cursing everything in general, himself in particular and wondering in a vague sort of way how it was all going to end. Now when he came to think it all over in cool blood, it was certainly foolish of him, to say the least, to have fallen in love with a woman who belonged to another man. But still, it wasn’t quite the first time in the world’s history that such a thing had happened. Even David of olden time bad ‘coveted his neighbour’s wife/ aye, and taken her too. How., had that little story ended though ? Oh, well, he neither knew nor cared just then. Minnie had said‘she would come to him/ and then he supposed they would naturally have to go somewhere. ’Frisco, perhaps, and they would have to live by writing more novels. A touch on his arm—with a half muttered oath he turned round, fully expecting to find himself face to face with Frank Bartron. It was Minnie herself, in the flesh, though he was not quite certain of that at first, she looked so wan and white.

‘ I have come, Jack.’ That was all, but she said it so simply and pathetically that it went; to his heart.

‘ I am so glad, deai’est. And to think that I greeted you like a brute. Forgive me, but I’ve been so worried, you know. And Frank, does he ?’

Anxiety for his personal safety made his voice sound harsh and strange. ‘ Yes, he knows by this time that I’ve left him forever. But I have arranged things so that he will never by any chance suspect you of any part in the" matter. Jack, can you take me somewhere where we can talk in peace ? The noise of the sea seems to make me quite deaf and silly.’

‘My lodgings—they are not far off. You will not mind, dear? Just fora little while, then after, you know, I will get you an hotel for to-night. To-morrow we will be on our journey north. Then heigh-ho ! for ’Frisco and fame. Why, Minnie, you are as cold as a stone, child. I hope Mrs Francis hasn’t let my fire out. Y'ou want a regular roasting. Let’s hope that Captain Edwin will favour us with fine weather to-morrow.’ ‘ I don’t want to think about to-morrow. To-night, I am with you, after ’ ‘ After, you will be with me still, only more so, my dear. But here we are at my diggings. Confound it, I thought I had my latch-key. We could have slipped in and no one been any the wiser. Now Mrs Francis will have to open the door.’ There ivas a lamp close by, and its light fell right upon them. He turned her with a comical look of dismay upon his face. In a case like this it seemed so utterly ridiculous to care two raps for the conventionalities.

•J’hen they both laughed, struck with the absurdity of the thing. She slipped her band within his arm, and clasped it gently. ‘ Say I’m your sister, Jack one 5

You have

‘Yes, and I have her portrait on the mantelpiece, and you don't resemble her in the very slightest. Mrs Francis has eyes that are first cousin to a hawk’s. A lady on business. That will do for the occasion.’

Mrs Francis gave no more than a mere passing glance at the ‘ lady on business.’ After brightening up the fire, she went out, and they were alone. Jack drew the easy chair up to the blaze and pushed her gently down.

‘ This must come off,’ he said, touching the sleeves of her jacket, damp with seaspray and rain. ‘ Come Minnie, I command to-night, you know, and I can’t have you taking cold. It’s not wet inside you say ?’

Then, as she seemed disinclined to talk (in reality she was gathering her forces together), he knelt down on the hearthrug at her feet, and began to chafe her cold little hands in his own warm ones. For a little while there was perfect silence, and into that silence the events of a lifetime seemed to crowd. He did not care much for silence ; he would much rather talk, so lie broke the spell. ‘Are you happy and content, Minnie, to be with me ? I’m only an ordinary sort of fellow, but I swear that I will devote my life to making you happy.’ ‘And if in the years to come I were to grow old and ugly and bad tempered, would you still love mo ? ’ ‘ Don’t talk of the impossible, Minnie. Let us enjoy the present, and let the future look after itself. Whatever may happen in the future you shall never have cause to regret what you are giving up for me.’

‘ Do you love me very much, Jack ? *

‘I never knew how much till this moment. You look so pretty sitting there, Minnie. Ah, don’t move. I think you are the prettiest creature I ever saw.’ ‘ But it won’t last. “ All that’s bright must fade.” Jack, do you remember those perfect days and the sunset behind the mountains, and then the night dark and terrible and calm ? ’

‘ Ah, yes ! And then Frank always came in -when we were watching the sunset, and laughed at our enthusiasm.’

And it occurred to him to wonder how Frank would like to come in just then. ‘ Well/ she went on,_in calm, passionless tones, ‘it is my perfect day now. In a little while, for me the night will come. Don’t you understand, Jack? I’ve come to tell you the end of the story, as I promised. We will never write another/ A dazed look came over his face.

‘Do you mean/ he said slowly, like one awaking from a dream, * that you don’t lore me after all ?*

‘Oh, Jack, can’t you help me? It is hard that I should have to say it all myself. Do you think Garstin and Minnie will be happy, even if they are together, knowing that the bonds that bind them are forged with a husband’s dishonour ? Jack, dear, you haven’t thought out the problem to the end, that’s all. There is always the afterwards. Perhaps there may be others to be touched with the dishonour ; that the innocent shall suffer for the guilty. Is this love ? Oh, if one could only sin without the afterwards ! l r ou see all I mean, dear, only a man doesn’t think of all these things as a woman does/ She rose from the chair and bent over him, as he crouched down on the rug at her feet in an attitude of the utmost dejection.

He looked so very young and boyish, with the soft rings of curly hair falling over his forehead. She smoothed them back with the tender touch his mother might have given him, and bending down, kissed him. My own dear boy, my Jack, I will never forget you. But we have made a mistake. People often do that you know, and I have come to say good-bye. I dare not do it. I love you far too much to cause you to sm and to spoil your life. Lovin» you, I cannot be loyal to Frank, and so'’ I have left him and my boy for ever. Dear, lam going soon. Hiss me and take me in your arms just once more, and I will live always on the memory of it. Now, Jack, before my courage fails me, for it is very warm and bright in here, while outside it is so cold and black.’

She shivered as if with ague. But but you hive left Frank—you will not come to me—where in heaven’s name are you going ?’ he cried, holding her tightly.

‘ Do not seek me, Jack, for you will never find me/

The dull boom of the breakers smote upon his ears. With a sickening fear of, he hardly knew what, he held her more closely still.

‘Minnie, I swear that vou shall nevernever go/

She laughed softly under his breath, looking right into his troubled eyes. ‘ Dearest, I can read the thought in your eyes. I am not going to drown myself, though perhaps if I were the Minnie of the story that would be the simplest way of solving the enigma. As I’m simply a human woman I’m going to obliterate myself.’

He felt himself powerless now to touch her, or stop her, even if he would. There was a look in her eyes which seemed to remove her as far from the earth and things earthly as the pictured Madonna in its gilt frame hanging on the opposite wall. Like a curtain the years rolled back. His mother had given him that picture—one of her parting gifts to her fair-haired boy. With that preternatural clearness of vision said to be given to the drowning man, he seemed to see all the past, and the future as it might have been for himself and others. With a groan he covered his face with his hands.

Minnie touched the bowed head gently, as if she, too, saw the vision.

* It’s the only possible way, Jack, dear, and some day you will be glad. The other way would never have brought us happiness, for happiness can never come through the misery and dishonour of others/

Then quietly opening the door she passed out into the blackness of the night. When he looked up he was alone.