A MISOGYNIST'S APOSTASY

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1675, 6 April 1904, Page 12

A MISOGYNIST'S APOSTASY

:i. (By James Gray Waddell.)

-* tixilo f . : " . ■ ______ . Lord Derrick, , cynic, man of the world, and thirty years of age, sac in his luxurious bachelor apartments debating’, to the accompaniment of a cigar and volumes' of smoke, a point of considerable importance. To others its import might not hate been apparent. It was simply a. question of going to Lady Anstruther’s reception. But—and this was the disturbing element —there was a woman in the case, and Lord Derrick had attained his present age without allowing wimiien to enter into his chapter of accidents; for, in. addition to his other reprehensible attributes, he was a misogynist of a pronounced type. But this woman was different to any of the others upon whom the thunders of his denunciation had hitherto fallen. The one woman generally is. Phyllis T'remayne was an Australian, and on a visit to the old country for the first time. To that fact probably she owed her freedom from the affectation and boredom, and other objectionable qualities l , which roused the ire of Lord Derrick in the women with whom he came mostly into contact. ' -When he first met her—only a, month he hacll reluctantly voted lier charming. His subsequent actions tended to show that that'announcement had in no wise become modified. "He had enjoyed her society on every possible occasion, and 010w —it was useless to shirk the fact—things had become serious. He must either stop dead, or—go forward to ‘irremediable destruction. She was to be at Lady Anstriitheir’s’; should he go or should be not? Ttw misogynistici spirit said: “Don’t be an idiot! Because this woman .appears differe'nfc to others, it doesn’t follow that she is. If you go you will make a fool of yourself.” That was. he admitted to himself, exceedingly probable. He had' been, within an ace of it several times already.

Then the man came to the surface and said l —"Go! 'Don’t throw, away your chance of future happiness for the sake of an idiotic idea, the absurdity of which you are already beginning to realise. tike worth winning.” From which it will bei seen 'that ike foundations of his creed were already tottering'. It. will also be inferred that very little doubt existed in Lord derrick’s mind a.s to the ultimate result of the forward movement. Let us not put it down to vanity, for vanity and Lord Derrick were strangers, in spite of the fact that the cynic generally surveys the world from the lofty standpoint of his own perfections. His conviction ova si based upon certain indications as reliable —or, possibly, unreliable —as such indications are where the unsolved 1 riddle woman is conge rued.

With such an internal battle raging, '-'lie luxury of a chair was impermissible. He rose and began savagely to pace the floor. His cigar went out, and the offending weed made a hasty flight into the fire. Finally he approached the hell. His hand was laid upm it, and withdrawn again. Then he seized and banged it down desperately. His mind was made up. Phyllis T'remayne had won—at least, he thought she had; hut before a servant answered the impatient summons the pendulum had swung back again. "Oh, Peters—put some coal on the fine.” The wondering Peters obeyed the unusual mandate; such helplessness in his usually self-reliant master rvasi something out of the common. As the door was closing behind him again there was a shout—‘'Peters I” * "Yes, my lord.” • “A hansom at nine-thirty.” This time Phyllis Trema.yne had really Sron. Later in the evening Lord Derrick’s forebodings were realised to the full, for his defeat became a headlong rnut. When, he returned to his rooms in the small hours of the morning he was! no longer a free man. Henceforth he was as other men —.a woman had claimed him, and the erstwhile cynic and despiser of women had necessarily be opine a reasonable being, for by virtue of her conquest the one' woman had vindicated the rest oi her sex. «*<**-* It was a week later. Lord Derrick’s engagement to Phyllis T'remayne was l by this time blazoned abroad. Society had shrugged its shoulders and said the usual kind things society d>es gay when it considers itself slighted. Match-making mothers were naturally incensed at the removal of a peer of the realm lrom tne sphere of their machinations. “A mere nobody, my dear—neither rank nor wealth! It is really extra,ordinary that Derrick should, have allowed himself to be entrapped like this.” "Yes, but men are so unaccountable; and T suppose she is pretty—in a way, ’ grudgingly. ■"Well, som-ei people may think so—[ can’t see it myself. And, my dear” —this in a horrified whisper—“just think—it is even said that she is nothing more than a settler’s daughter!” And so on. They were seated in a secluded corner of a conservatory, happy in one another’s society, and* blissfully unconscious .of the strictures of the world. Phyllis T'rarnayne was more than pretty—she was beautiful; and if .truth: and loyalty were revealed in the eyes of woman, they were revealed in hers. Derrick was profoundly conscious of it, he> fondled her hand and! gazed upon Her with the adoration due to One who l 'had released him from bondage, and brought him out into the light of perpetual sunshine. /• "Clifton,” she'said suddenly, 'Tell me why are jpu a worn anPh ate r?” “Some onp has been ; c4lbmnia,ting me, •. 'he; ‘replied, lightly. •‘‘"‘Witness th.e proof "thereof.” He raised''heh' hand to nis Aips. ■ ‘ , _ . r ;.“Well, then,” she pWrisled with, a ‘iSmile, “yon were a won; %p£~hater ?” :; J “And: you converted me. 1 & ’•ot that sufficient ?”

' ‘'Yes, but—l should like to know why you hated ns poor worn ear so/'’ His face clouded slightly. She noticed 1U

"Tell me,” she entreated, "was there—was there some’ other woman ?” "No,” he exclaimed almost fiercely. "There never was any other woman in the world for me bit® you.” She gave a slight sigh of satisfaction. "It. is nice hi know that,” she said softly. "Well, then, why ?” f He was. silent, for a moment. “Perhaps,” he said at last, “my experience of women lias been unfortunate. They are not all like you. If you had seen what I have seen, you would understand. You are new to society so you don t. I won’t go into generalities. What influenced me most was a matter much nearer home. I had a brother a few years younger than myself—onei of the best fellows that ever breathed. • Fiva veal’s a£p he went out to Australia.—to Melbourne—to take up an appointment under the administration. There he met the woman who became his wife. His letters to me, in which she was the constant theme, were filled with praises of her beauty and sweetness, ana wonder at his own: luck in Having secured such a treasure.” There was a hard, sneering npte in his voice as he paused. “Yes,” said Phyllis gently. "And then—” "They were married. From his letters I judged that their married life-was all that could be desired. Women, I sunpose, are skilled in concealing their real feelings. In reality s he must have mod of him very quickly. She left him within six months’—left him without a word of explanation. That her flight was premeditated was evident from the fact mat she had drawn largely upon her banking account before leaving. The shock broke him up; he had never been very strong. She was liis life—his very existence, and within a year of her desertion he died. A low fever killed him—so they said; -'n reality it was tne treachery and falsity of that woman.” There wag silence for ai moment. Had lie Tooked into the face of the, woman at his side he wpuld have seen a, startled expression—a lock almost of fear. He was, staling moodily in front of him, chewing his moustache. "Clifton,” |he said suddenly, and there was a slight tremor in her voice, “won’t'

you tell me her name —may I know?” ‘'There is no secret about it," lie replied. “Her name was Elsie Bingham. She was a widow and very young. Her first marriage way a failure. Her Husband turned out a bad lot; sire left him very quickly, and shortly afterwai'ds tie was drowned at seat —a regrettable* incident in the light of subsequent events. ' He uttered a short and the girl shivered slightly. ‘‘Her name was Elsie Bingham," she said slowly. ‘’“Clifton, does it never occur to you that you may be wronging this woman —that she may have been the victim of circumstances, and that there may be some other explanation than the one you assume ?” “No,” he said hardly, “the explanation doubtless was —some other man." “Supposing," she went on, “supposing I was very nearly related to this woman, would you still care for me as you do—would you still think me worthy of your love ?" He looked startled for a moment then he smiled as he took her hands in his. “Are you trying to frighten me, little girl? Don't let us suppose anything so det'estable! Angela and don't belong to the same family." “Don't !" she said brokenly. “She was iny sister!" Hb released her hands as though they had scorched him, and starting to his feet stood before her his face hard anl stern. __ , “You—are—her—sister! He ground out the words slowly. “Good God!—and I did! not know." He drew' a long breath. .... With a sob she buried her face in Her hands; as she saw his look of aversion. , n Whew . she looked up again she ras alone, .« :f? Hi'-' xidifir-.'t. 11. Par the greater part of the night Derrick paced his room in an agony of misery and doubt. He had given his heart to the one woman in the world he should have shunned —the sister of the woman wlio had wrecked his brother's life. For lie still loviil

her in spite of all, though to admit it was, he felt, an act of treachery to the dead'. In was madness. She belonged to the :j same brood 1; time would show it. So he I argued, with. aFi his old suspicion and ; mistrust aroused'. Then, a, pure, true face i seemed to start up before him, and some- ; thing within him said —“Look!—can you doubt?” So the struggle went on, and: when the grey dawn crept in his mind 1 was still in a state of chaos. He lay down and slept ai fitful and uneasy sleep. It was lato when lie rose. He breakfasted, and then strolled down to his club. His face still bore traces of the conflict, but his mind was made up. He was once again the cynic and misogynist. He would not see her again—he would go away for a, time. She would understand —she would herself see the impossibility of it all. Man proposes, truly; but, through the intervention of the unexpected In a decisions are at all times liable to be scattered to the four winds. To Lord Derrick th& truth of this aphorism was soon to no demonstrated. At the club lie found his friend Jack FI eon, in the company of an. elderly gentleman, a stranger to nerrick. “Hullo, Derrick!” he exclaimed. "'What's. the row? You lonic as if the blue devils had got you. Let me introduce you to Mr. Lingfield— an old; friend of my father’s*, and my godfather—.home .from, the Antipodes. Look after hi mi until I come back, there’s a dear chap. I have to keep an appointment, but will be back in an hour.” In the course of conversation it transpired: that Lingfield had just returned from Melbourne, where he had lived for many years. Derrick was struck by the peculiar succession of events associating him with that city. -"I wonder if by any chance you feiiew my brother —Arthur Garstock,” ho said. "Curious!” replied Lingfield'; "we were members of the same club. He, of course, belonged to a younger generation; but I knew him fairly well. But I did not know his brother was Lord Derrick.” j “I only came into the title three months

ago." explained Derrick. ‘‘Before that I was Clifton Gar.stock." “I understand," replied 1 Lingfieid. “Your brother's story was well known, to me. Poor chap, lie had the hardest of hard lines." Derrick regretted the impulse which had prompted him to speak. Once again, that miserable affair was to be dragged into the light of day. “Mrs. Bingham and her sister were intimate friends of mine," Lingfieid went on. “They were women whom it was a privilege to know. Missi T'remayne is at present in this 1 country, I believe. £>ne left Melbourne shortly before I myself came away. Her sister's death cut her up badly." So she was dead. Derrick did not know that. ‘ , “I . Hardly understand," he said coldly. It is scarcely a 'privilege to know women"—he checked himself —“a woman of that class." There was a puzzled look on Lingfield's face. "D; . “Surely," he said;'“she is deserving oi pity rather than condemnation." “Pity!" echoed Derrick. “You can hardly expect me to 'entertain charitable feelings towards the woman who ruined my brother's life. The wprldl is well vid of her." “The world is the poorer by her loss'.’ 7 said Lingfieid, gently. “Pardon me, Lord Derrick, may I ask if you are aware of what transpired subsequent to your brother’s death ?" “I neither knowi npr care," exclaimed Derrick, almost roughly. “There can only be one verdict regarding a woman who proves f'alsei to her husband." “One moment! —lie never was her husband." • Derrick .started/ up in amazement.. “What do you means?" lie exclaimed. “Sit down," said The elder man quietly. “I assumed that what I know was known to you also. That it is not so is strange You owe it to yourself and to women m general to remain in ignorance njo longer. Mrs. Bingham was the unfortunate victim of circumstances, and her* misfortunes necessarily involved your brother."

"The victim of circumstances/’ These were the words Phyllis had used only fast night. A wave of compunction swept over Derrick as he recalled her bowed £gu re.

"Go on,” lie said noarseiy. "After her flight,,” Lingfield went on, "all efforts to trace her proved unavailing. The world put its own construction on. her action. Only Phyllis Tremay.uo believed in her 1 sister. She insisted that there must be some explanation which would establish her reputation, if it did! not justify her rash flight. She was right, and the world was. wrong. "Six months ago she was summoned io one of the hospitals at Adelaide. Her sister was lying there stricken down with typhoid. She Went at onoe, but arrived! too late —the sufferer was dead. She lek a letter explaining all. The inclusion of Bingham’s name amongst those lost ia the wreck of the vessel which was conveying him io California was erroneous; and by some extraprdinary mischance the mistake was never rectified. The poor gid, had been living in a fool’s paradise.” "Good God!” exclaimed Derrick, as the truth flashed on him. “And her marriage with my brother—” "Was null and void. The day before she left him, she received a letter from Bingham, dated from California. By some means' he had discovered everything’, and the scoundrel saw liis chance of putting on the screw. He announced his intention ox coming back to claim her. “Maddened with the shame of her position—living with a man upon whom sbe had no claim-—and dreading prosecution from her scoundrel husband, whether right ox- wrong, was it to be wondered at that she took refuge in flight, seeking only to hide herself from the scorn—and, worse still, the (galling pity—which awaited her. "She buried herself in Adelaide under an assumed name, and took to nursing. At the hospital where she died she had procured an appointment. In tending one of’ the patient,si there she contracted the disease to which she succumbed. "From the members of the staff Phyllis Tremayne learned much about her sister. During the rime sb Q had been ampngst them, she had made herself beloved by everyone for the tender sympathy she -extended to the suffering-, and from the unwearying assiduity with which she performed her duties. Her ministrations did not end there., for by the poor in her district* she was regarded! as a veritable angel. What time she had to herself she had given to others, and her presence had lightened the daknees in many a humble home. Her system, undermined By those months spent in the service of others, rendered! heir an ■easy prey to dis&<iSo. “And now_comes the saddest part of the- story. _ bnortly after launching his thunderbolt, and on the very eve ex sailing for Melbourne, Bingham was killed in a drinking booth in Han Francisco 1 m some drunken brawl. Evidence of this was put into Miss Tremayne’s nancis shortly before she came to England. It is heartbreaking to think that Mrs. Bingham’s flight had been entirely unnecessary, and that her own happiness and your brother’s need never have been sacrificed. “And that, Lord Derrick,” concluded Lingfield, “is the woman of whom you say the world is well rid.” Derrick was silent. He was thinking—thinking what a fool lie had been. Now, perhaps, it was too late to right matters. His heart sank at the tkougbe. H e could at least try. He rose suddenly. “Mr. Lingfield,” he said hurriedly, "in telling me this you have possibly done me a great service. Through ignorance of it I nave been a. fool. Phyllis Tremayne is in London—here is her address/’ Ho scribbled it o-n a piece of paper. “I shall hope to see- you again soon. Meanwhile, pray, excuse me.” And he was gone, leaving Lingfield staring at the paper in his hand in mild astonishment. A hansom conveyed Derrick to Miss T'i'einayne's rooms in hot haste. To his hurried inquiry the servant implied that Miss Tr-emayne was at home and alone, and he fervently blessed his luck. “I will announce myself,” he said briefly, and' turned to a door indicated' by me wondering servant. He entered^ gently. She was seated on a low chair before the fide, (gazing dreamily into its depths, a book held listlessly in her hand. On the thick carpet his footsteps made no sound; he was beside her before she was aware of his presence. “Clifton !” she exclaimed wondering Ivan d there was something in the exclamation which/told him he had not come m vain. He knelt at her side and took her hands in his. She did not withdraw them. "Yes, Phyllis,” he said penitently. "I have come back —if you will take me nack. I bave been a fool. Say that you will forgive me/ "But how —what has happened to make you think differently?” she asked qiuet- * “Your old friend Mr- 1 . Lingfield is home. I have met him, and 1 he lias told me everything.” "Dear old Mr. Lingfielidi!” said the girl softly* "Why did you not tell me, Phyllis, at the beginning ?” he asked reproachfully. "Because—don’t you sea?—in Lord Derrick I did not recognise Arthur Garstock’s brothel*.” , "Great Scott!” exclaimed Derrick, ‘Of course riot; I had) forgotten that.” "And then,” went on the girl, "last night,, when I began to understand, you did not give me a chance to explain; and —perhaps I thought you were a little hard and cruel—” /, ’ . , , “So I was—l was a beast, lie interrupted hastily. • . "Perhaps T thought that, even had it been as you believed, your love for me should have overweighed everything. He kissed Per. "Andi you were- right, little girl. Even had it been as I believed —I was wrong!”