FICTION.

New Zealand Mail, 5 February 1902, Page 5

FICTION.

SIR ASTLEY’S WIFE.

FLORENCE WARDEN.

fAnthor of “The. House on the Marsh,” ■* atl « A Prince of Darkness,” etc.

fAr.r, Rights Reserved.]

/Copyright in the United States of America by D. T. Pierce.)

fivnonspis of Instalments I. and 11. Tn.mhueut I. describes the meeting at 1 1, try inn, under sensational circumstances, of a man and woman The former Astley Darwen, is ill with a gunshot wound; his companion 1S rented unrecognisable by the water from which he has rescued her, and seems wishful to keep her identity hld(lcn - They part, to meet again in an Oxford rlraivilw-rooni, where Astley discovers fhat the lady of the adventure, Norma Bascot is beautiful—an heiress—and said to be engaged to her cousin. Time goes on. One afternoon Norma startles Astley by asking: “Would you marry a trirl not really, but at a registry office, to set her free?”

CHAPTER IV.—Continued

This was the very first expression of gratitude which Norma had ever used to Astley in connection with his rescue of her from the river. And she uttered tho words in such a low, breathless voice, with her eyes turned away and her hands moving nervously, that he was greatly touched. He tried, however, to laugh it off. “Oh, nonsense,” said he. “Yo.u know that was no more than anybody would have done. I thought you were too sensible to think of it in any other They were both moving again at a very slow pace, and now Norma stopped once more.

“Ah,” she said. “You think, of course, because I haven’t spoken of it, that I never think about it ; but I do. At first I admit I wasn’t grateful; life seemed too dreadful a thing to hear. But—but—now I see more sanely, ancl —and I’m ashamed of myself, and —and thankful that—nobody knows —but you.” Thero was a simple confidence in these words, uttered in the same diffident mnanor and low voice, which thrilled Astley to the heart. He felt impelled to revert to the previous subject of conversation, which began to Lave a new attractiveness.

“Come,” said he, "let us get back to the point. Suppose we were to marry, you and I, what would your people say ? iWhat would they think of me? Wouldn't they spread tho talc abroad that I had taken advantage of their hospitality to steal away your heart from its rightful owner? Come now, I’m sure you-must confess they’d say something like that?” forma's black eyes looked down naughtily through their long lashes. “Would you mind?” said she. “I shouldn’t.”

.Well, I can’t say I should care to get tlie reputation of being a mean fellow. You sec, if you don't marry me, you admit you will probably end by marrying Bascot.” They might make me marry him, but u tuey did, I should murder him,” said Aorma with ferocity. “If you would ave me from that, therefore, you would at- the same time save a man from bciim murdered.”

AsUey laughed a little. He was not fn- d i 01 lettln o her see him laugh now, ioi sho was getting used to his way of Kpnt- I ?i°i things, and no longer reiented bis lightness of heart. thp iln not Sure ’ : ’ he said > gently, “that he prospect, as you put it, is altogether reassuring.” but I shouldn’t murder you, if but rr that >” said Norma quickly, Si ft' a i lltUc ; “ You wouldn't And”fi atlaid ol that, would you?” look thiH 11 1 r t , uriled u P° n him a given liim^ rS i t 10 k 111(1 s he had ever mg and chanm lUOnt ° f womauly fcelco?i eCI W, ly she was too good for Basnearer as°rf “ lvolun . ta ™ly came a little iip”, as lf to speak low. sometffinJr 3 , i l ° u ’r i ald lie> “But—there’s She m ;!u S t 1 should he afraid of.” in K btt la y. e . known what- was combes full ir, 10 - cllcl u°t- She met liis “And ’ nfj ; ,lr y only in hers. ‘And what’s that?” You fall 111 love with you, “IwoffiL»t U i gl J ed almost harshly, ly. “I would 1 et y0U) ” she said quickmother used to 6 ”.? y °'?A° the boil(1 - My in love with o y that no “an falls *°rt of invitatiom”° nian wlthout 501110 Astley) half‘am, 110 1 afr , aid ’” suggested ‘‘that you Lt n i ? SCd and half resentful, 4ot th e imitation 6 ?” 7 b ° inclined aspect N °rma frankly. “I V*y son? to ’ ,l ! chl I should bo down into a Inutf 1 liked sink Inee kin+l,« a ” u shand like mv uncle 2 h « Pwfe 'a ?”? f- before V see him bn/ 1 tyrant nr private. Or l “"«.opS] J b “XS? t,,e ; <* w o ectful and cynical. No,

no, no. It’s better for a man to feel free.”

“Yet not to be free?” Norma was silent. But there was a deep flush in her cheeks as she looked away, and he saw that he had pained her by the words. “Look here,” he began again, in a humble tone, “I don’t quite understand yet what you would propose to do, supposing we were to —” She moved impatiently. “Oh, don’t let us talk any more about it,” said she. “Forget that I ever—” “But I don’t want to forget it, I want to talk it out and help you if I can. I want you to tell me, supposing you were to go to the registry office mademoiselle, and come out madame, what would you jiropose to do?” “Nothing,” said Norma quickly, “at first, but just to tell them what I had done, so that they would know it was of no use to worry me to marry Robert, and so that they would have to let me have my money.” “I see. But if you proposed to remain with them, surely they would make it more uncomfortable than, ever after that!”

“I don’t think they could,” said Norma. “You see, I should be absolutely my own mistress directly; and instead of doling me out a wretched allowance of a hundred a year, more than half of which I have to pay them as my share of tho household expenses, they would be at my mercy, since I could threaten to go away at once, and then my money would go with me. It’s all a miserable, sordid affair,” she went on restlessly, “but I’m obliged to tell you all, am I not?” “Yes,” said he, “of course you are. Well, you wouldn’t stay with them permanently, would you?” “Oh, no, I should go to London, to the East End, where the poorest people are, and try to do some good there. Thero are lots of associations, charities and bodies there for doing good, aren’t there ?”

“Oh, yes, plenty. They all do good, some to the poor, and some to, themselves,” said Astley, rather cynically. “I expect I should have my work cut out for me in keeping you out of the hands of rogues, advertising charity-mongers and such folk.”

“You need not worry your head about that,” said Norma superbly, “i’ve given up all idea of this and I quite agree with you that I was mad to speak of it.”

“Now, don’t be nasty. I only wanted you to understand what you were doig t ” said Astley humbly. “But I quite agree we’ve talked enough about this for tho ? resent. Now I must see you home. ou’re getting cold. I walk so slowly With this stiff leg of mine.” So they turned back, and said never a word more on tho subject of Norma’s freak until he had delivered her up safely at her uncle’s door. But perhaps there was a sort of self-conscious look on their faces, for the parlourmaid peeped out after him when she had admitted the young lady, with a sly look in her eyes.

She, at least, was not astonished when, a little more than a fortnight later, the nows became known in the household, and filtered down quickly to the kitchen, that Miss Norma had gone and got married to Mr Darwen.

Poor Norma had ill calculated the force of the disappointment to the whole family which the news of her suddenly-announced marriage created. She had had half a dozen secret meetings with Astley since the day when she startled him so greatly by tier unconventional proposal, and each time lie saw her Astley was more attracted to the passionate and wayward girl. Not that he was in love with her: Norma’s pronouncement that no man could love a woman without invitation not being without truth, and she herself refraining distinctly from giving sucli an invitation, it was interest rather than love which he felt in her; but it was interest strong enough to make him throw prudence and common sense to the winds, and become in his turn tho proposer that she should take his name and thus free herself from the hateful position in which she was now placed. There was of course just tins difference between their attitudes towards each other: Norma believed that the business footing on which they started could be maintained: Astley knew that it could not. But to his prophecies that they would hate or love each other within a year she turned the deaf ear of scorn, and told him that she thought better of both him and herself than he did.

When, however, she announced at tea one afternoon that she had been married that day “at a registry office” to Astley Darwen, the rage and depair of her aunt in particular, knew no bounds; and during the scene which followed, both that lady and her husband, to say nothing of Robert, reviled Norma and Astley in such bitter terms that the girl rushed from the room, put on her hat and jacket, and started at once, before anyone could discover her intention, for Astley’s hotel. Under the old-fashioned wide entrance she went quickly, and presenting herself with a loudly beating heart at the office, asked tremulously whether Mr Astley Darwen was at home. As she uttered the name, Norma saw that a quietly dressed woman, who was standing with her back turned towards the new comer, and whom she had not noticed as she entered, started perceptibly, and moved so that she could get a look at the speaker. Even before the manageress could answer Norma’s question, the other woman, with a stealthy glance at Norma as she went, passed quickly and quietly out into the street.

CHAPTER V. Yes, Mr Darwen was in the hotel, the manageress said. Then Norma hesitated and asked: —

“Did the lady who’s just gone out ask for Mr Darwen?” The manageress looked surprised: “I thought she was with you,” she answered. “Sho came in just before you did, and hadn’t spoken when you followed her.” It was rather a strange circumstance, Norma thought, as, much too shy to send up her married name, she gave tho message that someone wished to see Mr Darwen.

So she was shown into the coffee-room and in a few minutes Astley came in. Ho seenied surprised to see her. ‘“You never sent up any name,” said he, “or at least they didn’t give me any?”

“I didn’t like to,” said Norma, who suddenly found herself afflicted with an overpowering shyness in Astley’s presence. She was realising to the full the strangeness of the fact that this man, who yesterday had been but an acquaintance, was to-day legally her husband.

Astley, who had been considering the matter also, smiled a little. “Why not?” said he.

They had the room all to themselves and could talk at their ease. But there was something soothing, too, in th© knowledge that it was a public apartment, and that, as they were liable to the entrance of a waiter or a chance visitor at any moment, there was & sufficient excuse for keeping the conversation at a pleasantly commonplace level.

There was a pause before Norma said, rather hurriedly, as she looked down at the fire before which she was standing :

"Were you expecting anybody else, then?”

“Oh, no. Jack Feilding sometimes looks in, but they know him and bring up his name, if he doesn’t come straight up himself. But to see you is an unexpected pleasure.”

Norma raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders dismally. She had inherited the habit of certain little demonstrative gestures from her mother.

“Pleasure!” she echoed with mocking lips.

“It is a great pleasure,” returned Astley, as he came close beside her, and leaned against the mantelpiece, as she was doing. “Or at least it would be, if I were not afraid that something has happened to worry you or put you out. Come, what is it?” He did not touch her, but lie bent his head a little towards her, and smiled reassuringly into her face, as if to remind her that he was her staunch friend at least.

Then her face quivered, and she almost sobbed out: “It’s been dreadfull Worse, much worse than I expected. They were hateful, all of them, especially my aunt. At least I supposo Robert was really as hateful as she, only I despise him so tiiat lie doesn’t count. But oli! It’s beautiful to bo able to despise him only, and not to be afraid of him, too.” Astley laughed, but not mirthfully. “I’m afraid this is only the beginning of tho trouble,” said he. “Why couldn’t you keep your secret until I (was there to back you up.” “Well, I thought it wasn’t fair, for one thing, that they should set upon you and tear you to pieces when you were not in fault. So I thought I would break it to them and get the explosion over by myself. Only I didn’t know how bad it was going to be. And then, I suppose, being only a woman, I was bursting with my secret, too. So that when Robert made one of his favourite allusions to the happy time wo should have when I was married to him, I couldn’t help flashing upon him the answer Chat that was impossible, as I was married already.” “I can imagine the effect of such an announcement at Mrs Bascot’s trim teatable,” laughed AstleyNorma smiled a little, too. “It was rather funny, though, as you may guess, I wasn’t able to seo tho fun

of it at tlie time. Now I come to think of it, they were really like a cageful of lions when the keeper takes their dinner away. They spared neither me nor you, ana at last they made me so furious that I ran away and came here, to give them time to settle down.” “You must dine with me,” said Astley. “It will be rather fun, won’t it?” And he looked at her with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. Norma hesitated, and looked puzzled and distressed. The complications brought about -by their new relationship suddenly appeared to her as they had never appeared before. Supposing one of her uncle’s acquaintances were to hear of her dining here with Astley Darwen, how everybody would talk. What rumours would be set fling about, making it doubtful whether confession or concealment would be best! Even matrimony in a registry office had its claims, its disadvantages.

Astley, meanwhile, had rung the bell; and when the waiter appeared, startled Noma by ordering dinner for himself and Mrs Darwen. She was confounded. The moment the man had left the room, she turned abruptly to Astley:— “Why did you say that? You shouldn’t have said that,” she remonstrated, breathlessly. “You know how r people talk, especially here.” “It’s precisely because I do know- how they talk, especially here,” retorted Astley, calmly, “that I couldn’t allow my wife to run the risk of gossip at her expense.” Norma said nothing, but she trembled. There was something more than strange, something that almost thrilled her, in hearing the words “my wife,” applied to herself by a man. Indifferent as she believed herself to be to all men, cold, hard, inaccessible, the associations connected with the word were of course too strong for her to hear it unmoved now that by legal right it belonged to her.

There was something, too, that touched her, as she did not want to be touched, in the tone with which Astley at once took upon himself, as of right, the careful protection of her good name. Her feelings made her restless and shy. She was glad that the door was at this point burst open by the waiter, who came to lay more knives and forks on Astley s table, which was in the corner near the fire.

Astley, who always saw the humorous side of things, began to beam with amusement at the piquancy of this impromptu dinner with his own wife. It was clear that he took a mischievous pleasure in referring to the tastes of "Mrs Darwen',’” in informing the waiter that “Mrs Darwen” drank claret, and that "Mrs Darwen” would like a footstool. And at last she threw him a reproachful look when the man was out of the room, and told him that, it was too bad to tease her.

“Does it tease you?” said Astley. “t>oesn’t- it rather amuse you, too? I think this escapade of yours is the greatest fun. And if only your unci© would fling open the door while we were enjoying our cutlet, I feel that the dramatic as well as the humorous possibilities c£ life would be exhausted.”

“Whatever happens to you nothing ever seems able to make you sad or even serious,” said Norma, with interest. They were fay this time seated opposite each other at the little table, and Norma was able to examine with earnest scrutiny the face of the man she had married. A typical English face it was, with an originally fair skin tanned and reddened by the open air and the African sun, with smooth and shining mouse-coloured hair, a moustache with a suspicion of ginger colour in it, fairly well cut features, and honest blue eyes. Astley had the further attraction of that exceedingly clean, trim look so distinctive of the upper class Encrlishman, and particularly of the Anny man. When he began to return her scrutiny, she looked down on the white table cloth, and tried to think of something to say.

Nobody could have complained of anv want of earnestness in his ton© as he answered:

“Doesn’t it occur to you that I mav have gone through experiences so sad and serious that nothing less than a real misfortune can disturb me? And whatever cause you may have to look upon our—what shall I call it?—partnership?—as a misfortune, it certainly doesn’t appear in that light to me.” Norma bent her head and blushed.

“Of course,” she said, gently, “your illness, and being wounded, and all that-, were misfortunes: but that isn’t the sort of thing that eats into one, is

“Oh, no,” said he readily. “1 don’t count those things at all. I’ve gone through much worse than that, I can assure you, things that would, I really think, make you wonder that you could call your troubles misfortunes at all ” He was serious enough now; and something in his voice thrilled Nonna, and made her look at him with eves full of shy, sympathetic interest. “Really?” whispered she. He smiled a little.

"I’ve a good mind,” said he slowly, “to tell you what they were. But I’m not sure. It might give you a lesson in contentment, but on the other hand, it might pain you, disgust you.” “Tell me,” whispered Norma after a pause, and without raising her eyes.“Well, then, I’ve been married be-

fore —unhappily,” said Astley, in a tone which was almost gruff. The surprising statement made Norma look up quickly: and then a sense of shame rushed through her heart, when she reflected that she had always been so much occupied with her own troubles that she had concerned herself very little about the life and circumstances of this man who had done so much for her.

These thoughts and feelings brought the rich colour to her cneeks, and a look of sweetness and softness to her great dark eyes. Astley met her eyes, smiled a little, and looked down as he .went on: “Yes. I fell in love with a girl I met one winter, when I was staying at my cousin’s, the most beautiful gii;l, I still think, that I ever saw in my life.” He paused, and Nonna made an impatient little gesture, urging him to go on.

“I don’t suppose she ever cared for me much; she married me because it was a good match for her, though it would have been a very poor one for any girl of my own rank. She was the sister of a doctor’s wife who lived near Astley Haigh, and it was at the doctor’s house I met her. I might have known better than to marry her, for she was even then trying very hard, as I could not help seeing, to capture my cousin.” “Sir Hugh Darwen?” “Yes. And failing in that—for Hugh was a more confirmed bachelor at that time, she graciously accepted me. You see I was a more important person than I am now; for Hugh had declared he never meant to marry, and in that case the property and the title would some day have come to me.” “Has he married since, then?” “No, but he is going to, in about ten days from now. So I look upon it as a foregone conclusion that my chances are knocked on the head. I can't say I care much.”

"You never told me all this,” said Norma, very much interested. “To think of your having had such an interesting career, while 1 was too much wrapped up in my own little miseries to so much as ask a question about yours!” Her tone was sincerely penitent, and there were even tears in her eyes. Astley smiled appreciatively. “Well, well, it’s not too late for me to come in for a little of your sympathy now,” said he cheerily. The next moment, however, he again took a more serious tone. “We got on pretty well —Lottie and I, till I was ordered abroad. And then I heard little from her, but disquieting news of her from other people. At first I would believe nothing; but at last I got a plain statement of fac-t on such good authority that I could not hope to deceive myself any longer.” Astley hurried on, with an uneasy frown on his face: —“As soon as I got home I set inquiries on foot, found that the news was only too true, and at once caused the divorce papers to be served on her at her mother’s house at Leamington, where she was then living. You may judge of my horror when, immediately afterwards, I learnt that she was dead.”

Norma gave a little gasp of horror. “At first I wondered whether it was true; then I resolved to go up there myself, and I found it was no fiction, as I had for a moment suspected. She was lying in her coffin when I got to her mothers house.

“Did you see her?” something prompted Norma to whisper breathlessly-

He shook his head

“No. But it was quite true,” he said in a low voice. "Well, we won’t talk any more about it. But now you'll understand better why it is that I can’t see the tragedy of small miseries so plainly as you do.” Norma was terribly shocked and remorseful. She began to think, as she might indeed have thought before, that she had no right to bring fresh anxieties into this mail’s life. She became uneasy, gentle, almost tearful; and try as he would to raise her spirits Astley could get nothing but soft and deprecatory answers and looks from her until they had finished dinner, and he was seeing her home. She was still oppressed by the feeling that her selfishness had been unexampled, and presently she told him so. He laughed at her fears. “You are selfish!” he admitted simply. “And quite absurdly sensitive and impulsive. But I did what I did with my eyes open, quite willingly. I suppose I was selfish, too, and bent upon getting a new sensation out of life, the sensation of being married to a lady who was not my wife.” She was walking beside him, but not very close: he saw that she shivered at his words.

“I—"I didn’t know what- you’d gone through,” she stammered hoarsely. “You only said that yon were 'a poor devil’— that was what you called yourself—who didn’t know how to manage on 'a pitiful pension’—That-- was what you called it. So—so ”

‘ So you were quite justified, and not to blame a bit,” added Astley, cheerily. And then silence fell on them both. On Astley, because this unburdening of his life’s secret had made him thoughtful ; on Norma, because she began to fancy that the woman whom she had -seen in the hotel courtyard was hovering about, following them sometimes on

the one side of the street, and sometimes on the other.

She could not-, however, he sure enough of the woman’s figure to think it worth while to mention her fancies to Astley; and it was not until he had left her on her uncle’s doorstep, after her flat refusal to let him come in and brave the storm, that she was sure on seeing the same figure close behind Astley that- the woman whom she had seen in the hotel office had followed them to her uncle’s house, and was now following Astley hack again. He had been very anxious to come in and “beard the lion in his den,” which was the way he expressed his intention of encountering the displeasure of Mix Bascot. But Norma was so passionately earnest in her entreaties that he would hot, in her assurances that she would allow him to do so on the morrow, ajid that in the meantime she would be very gentle and patient and meek, that he had at length given way to her wishes. “I expect,” she shrewdly said, “they will have been so frightened by my disappearance this evening, that they will be inclined to ‘climb down’ a little, and to make it easier for me than seemed likely this afternoon.” Her expectations proved to be well founded. Her aunt and uncle, realising that her marriage was an accomplished fact-, and that- she was now indeed mistress of her person and her money, had had time to learn, the hitter truth that their solicitude had overreached itself and that in trying to force on the girl a distasteful marriage in their own interests, they had but hastened the time when she would emancipate herself from their control. They were heartily thankful to see her back, and both took care to assure her that they were sorry for the manner of their reception of the news of i her marriage, and anxious for her to remain with t-hem as long as she pleased. For Norma told them that she was quite ready to stay with them, if they wished, until Astley’s visit to his cousin at Astley Haigh was over.

So the stormy and eventful day ended peacefully, and Norma woke next morning m a very chastened mood, half regretting her hasty action in getting

married to Astley, and yet at the ana time anxious to see him again. Hj had become a very interesting persona!, ity since her discovery of Ms histoij: she could think of little else.

And the woman ? The man? Who could she be? (To be Continued).