WILL WARBURTON

Otago Daily Times, Issue 13288, 20 May 1905, Page 5

WILL WARBURTON

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■ ' i ■ .1. A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. By -GEORGE"GISSING. (Author of-"Demos," "The Nether World," etc.) CHAPTER XL. With curiosity which had in it a touch of amusemtnt, Will was waiting to hear from Norbert Franks. He waited for nearly a month, and was beginning to feel rather hurt at his friend's neglect, perhaps a little uneasy on another score, when therei arrived an Italian -post-card, stamped Venice. "We Iwve been tempted as far as this," ran tire hurried scrawl. "Must be homo in 10 dajs. Shall be delighted to see you again." Warburton puckered bis brows and wondered whether a previous iotter or card had failed to reach hnn. But probably not.

At the end of September Franks wrote fiom his London address, briefly but cordially, with an invitation to luncheon on Iho next day, which was Sunday. And Warburton went.

He was nervous as be knocked at the door; he was rather more nervous as he walked into the studio. Norbert advanced to him with a shout of welcome, and from a chair in the background rose Mrs Franks. Perceptibly cb-mged, both of them. The artist's look was not quite so ingenuous as formerly; his speech, lesolute in friendliness, had not (juitc the familiar note. Rosamund, already more mature of aspect, .smiled snmewji.it too persistently, seemed rather too bent on ,showing herself unembarrassed. They plunged into talk of Tyrol, of the Dolomites, of Venice, and, so talking, passed into the dining-room.

"Queer little house this, isn't it?" said Mis Franks, as she sat down to table. "Everything is sacrificed to the studio; there's no room to turn anywhere else. We must kok at once for moie comfortable quarters." " It's only meant for a man living alone," said the artist, with a laugh. Pranks lauglicd frequently, whether what he said wa-> amusing'or not. "Yes, we must find something xcomier."

"A score of.sitters waiting for you, I Pappose?" said Warburton._ " Oh, v several. One of them such an awful phiz that I'm afraid 'of her. If I make her presentable, it'll be my greatest feat yet. But the labourer is worthy of his hire, you know, and this bit of beautymaking will hare its price."

" Yo'i know how to interpret that, Mr Waibuiton," said Rosamund with a discreetly confidential smile. "Norbert asks very much less than any other portrait, painter of his reputation would." "He'll grow out of that bad liabit," Will replied, ILs note v.as one of joviality, almost of bluftnes.

" I'm not sure that I wish him to," said the painters wife, her eyes straying as if in a sudden dreaminess. "It's a distinction nowadays not to care for money. Norbert jokes about making an ugly woman beautiful," she went on earnestly, "but what he will really do is to discover the very beat aspect of the face, and so make something much more than an ordinary likeness.

Pranks fidgeted, his head bent over his

"That's the work of the great artist," exclaimed Warburton, boldly flattering. "Humbug!" growled Franks, but at once he laughed and glanced nervously at his wife.

Though this was Rosamund's only direct utterance on the subject, Warburt-on discovered fiom the courso of the conversation that slio wisbd to be known as her husband's fervent admirer, that she took him with the utmost seriousness, and was resolved that everybody else should do so. The " great artist" phrase gave her genuine pleasure; she rewarded Will with the kindest look of her beautiful eyes, and from that moment appeared to experience a relief, so that her talk Boned more naturally. Luncheon over, they returned to the studio, where the men lit their pipes, while Rosamund, at her husband's entreaty, exhibited the sketches she had brought home. " Why didn't yon let me hear from yon?" asked Warburton, "I got nothing but that fiimsv post-card from Yenice." " Why, I was always meaning to write," answered the artist. " I know it was too bad. But tints goes so quickly "

" With you, no doubt. But if you stood behind a countc:' all day "

Will saw the listeners exchange a startled ghnce, followed by an artificial smile. There was an instant's dead silence.

"Behind a counter ?" fell from Norkrt, as if he failed to understand. "The counter; ire counter!" shouted Will blusterous])'. "You know very well what I mean. Your wife has told jou all about it."

Rosamund flushed, and could not raise

Ler eyes. "Wo didn't know," said Franks, with his nervous little laugh, "whether you cared—to talk about it "

" I'll talk about it with anyone you like. So you do know? Hat's all right. I

still owe my apology to Mrs Pranks for having givon her such a shock. The disclosure was really too siidden."i 1 "It is I who should beg you to forgive mo, Mr Warburton," replied Rosamund, in her sweetest accents. "I 'behaved in a very silly nay. But my friend Bertha Cross treated me as I deserved. She declared that she was ashamed of me. But do not, pray Jo not, think me worse than I was. I ran away really because I felt I had surprised a secret. I was embarrassed—l lost ray head. I'm sure you don't think me capable of really mean feelings?" "(But, old man," pnt in the artist, in a half-pained voice, " what the deuce does it 'all m»nn? 'Jell us the whole story, do." Will told it, jestingly, effectively. "I was quite sure," sounded, at the close, in Rosamund's voice of tender sympathy, "that yon had some noble motive. I said so at once to Bertha." "I suppose," said Will, ."Miss Cross will never dare to enter the shop again?" " She doesn't come?" "Never since,'' lie answered laughingly. ''Her'mother has been once or twice, and seems to regard me with a very suspicious eye, Mrs Cross was toll, r.o doubt?" "That I really can't say," replied Bosamund, averting her eyes, "But doesn't it do one good to hear such a story, Norbert?" she added impulsively, "Yes, that's pluck," replied her husband, with the old spontaneity, in his eyes the old honest look which hitherto had somehow been a liftle obscured. "I know very well that 1 couldn't have done it."

Warburton had not looked at Rosamund

since her explanation and apology. He was afraid of meeting her eyes: afraid as a generous man who shrinks from inflicting humiliation. For vas it conceivable that Rosamund could support his gaze without feeling humiliated? Remembering what Lad preceded that discoveiy at the shop; bearing in mind what had followed upon it; lie reflected with astonishment on the •terms of her felf-reproach. It sounded so genuine; to the ears of her husband it must have been purest, womanliest sincerity. As though she could read his thoughts, Rosamund addrpssed him again in tliu most naturally playful tone. "And you have been in the Basque country since we saw you. I'm so glad yoa really took your holiday there at last; you often used to spo.ik of doing so. Ami you met my sis'ci—Winifred wrote to me all about it. The Coppingeis were delighted fo see yoli. Don't you think them nice people/ Did poor Mrs Coppinger seem liny Letter?' In spite of himself Will encounteied her look, met the beautiful eyes, felt their smile envelop him. Never till now had he known the passive strength of woman, that characteristic which at times makes her a force of Xaturc rather than an individual being. Amazed, abashed, he let Ins head lall—and murmured something about Mis Coppinger's state of health. lie did not stay much longer. When he took his leave, it would have seemed natural if Franks had come out to walk a little way with him, but his friend bore him company only to the door. "Let us see you as often as possible, old man. I hope you'll often come and lunch on Sunday; nothing could please us better."

Pranks' handgrip was very coidial, the look and tone were affectionate, but Will said to himseli that the old intimacy was at an end; it must now give place to mere acquaintanceship. He suspected that Franks was afraid to come out and walk with him, afraid that he might not please his wife. That Rosamund was to rule—very sweetly, of course, but unmistakably—no one could doubt who saw the two togeher for five minutes It would bo, in all likelihood, a happy subjugation, for Norbert was of anything but a rebellious temper; his bonds would b? of silk; the rewards of his docility would bo such as many a selfasseitivo man might envy. Rut when Warbuitou tried to imagine himself in such a position, a choked laugh of humorous disdain heaved his chest.

H<\ wandered homewards in a dream. He relived those moments on the embankment at Chelsea, when his coinmou sense, his Teason, his true emotions, were defeated by an impulse now scarcely intelligible ; he saw himself shot across Europe, likejv parcel despatched by expiess; and all that fury and nu-h meaningless as buffoonery at a pantomime! Yet this was how the vast majority of men "fell in love"—if ever they did so at all. Tins was the prelude to mairiages innumerable, marriages destined to be dull as ditchwater or sour as wjuice. In love, forsooth! Rosamund at all events knew the value of that, and had saved him from his own infatuation. He owed her a lifelon" irratitude. °

| That evening he le-read a long Icttei | from Jane which had reached him yesterday. His sister gave him a full description of the new home in Suffolk, and told of. the ansngement she had made villi Miss Winter, whereby, in a twelvemonth, she would be able to begin earning a little money, and, if all went well, before long would become self-supporting. Could he not run (low. to see them? Their mother had borne the lemoval remarkably well, and seemed, indeed, to have a new vigourj possibly the air might suit her better than at The Haws. Will mused over this, buthad no mind to make the journey just vet. It, would be a pain to hini to seo'his mother in that new place; it would shame him to see his sister at work, and to think that all this, change was on his account. So he wrote to mother and sister, with more of expresssd tenderness than usual, begging them to let him put off his visit for a few weeks. Presently they would be more settled. But of cne thing let them be sure: his daily work was no burden whatever to him. and 1 e hardly . Icnen whether lie would care to change it for what was called the greater respectability of labour in ail office. His health was good; his spirits could only be disturbed by ill news from those lie loved. He promised that at all events he would spend Christmas with them.

September went by. One of the Sundays was made memorable by a visit to Ashtead. Will had requested Franks to relate in that guarter the story of Mr Jollyman, and immediately after hearing it, Ralph Poinfret wrote a warmhearted letter which made the recipient in Fulham chuckle with contentment. At Ashtead he enjoyed himself in the old way, gladdened by the pleasure with which iris friends talked of Rosamund's marriage Mi's Pomfret took an opportunity of speaking to him apart, a bright smile on her good face. "Of course we know who did much, if not everything, to bring it about, llosamund came and told me how beautifully you had pleaded Norbert's cause, and Norbert confided to my husband that, but for you, he would most likely have married a girl lie really didn't care about at all. I doubt whether a mere itajt ever did such a thing so discreetly and successfully before!"

In October, Will began to waver in his resolve not to go down into Suffolk before Christmas. There came a-letter from his mother which deeply moved him; she spoke of old things as well as new, and declared that in her husband and in her children no woman had ever known truer happiness. This was at the middle of the week; Will all but made up his mind to take an eaily train on the following Sunday. On Friday he wrote to Jane, telling her to expect him, and, as he walked home from the shop that evening he felt glad that he had overcome the feelings which threatened to make this first visit something of a'trial 'to his self-iespect. . "There's a telgram awaiting for you, sir," said Mrs Wick, as he entered. The telegram contained four words sj v "Mother iSL Please come." CHAPTER XLI. Happen what might in the world beyond her doors, llis (*ross led the wonted life of domestic discomfort and querulousness. An interval there had been this summer, a brief uncertain interval, wlin,something hke good-temper seemed to struggle with her familiar mood; it was the month or two during which Franks lesumed his friendly visitings. - Fallen out' of Mrs Cross's good graces since his" failuie to become her tenant a couple of years ago, had to ta EESSSrt tipelf ■'$»

to be forgiven,, and when it grew evident that he came to the house on Bertha's account, he rose into higher favour than ever. But this promising stat of things abruptly ended. One morning, Bertha, with a. twinkle in her eyes, announced the fact of Franks' marriage* Her mother was stricken with indignant amaze. ' r And you laugh about, it?" "It's so amusing," answerd Bertha, Mrs Cross examined her daughter! " I don't understand you," she exclaimed, in a .tone of irritation. "I do not understand you, Bercha! All I can say is, behaviour more disgraceful I never—" The poor lady's feelings were too much for her. She retreated to her bedroom, and there passed the greater part of th 6 day. But in the evening curiosity .overcame her sullenness. Having obtained as much infoimation about the artist's marriage as Bertha could give her, she relieved herself in an acrimonious criticism of him and Miss Elvan.

" I never liked to say what I really thought of that girl," were her concluding words. " Now your eyes are opened. Of course you'll never see her again?" "Why, mother?'' asked Bertha. "I'm very glad she lias mairied Mr Franks. I always hoped she would, and felt pretty sure of it. 1 '

" And you mean to be friends with them both'!"

" Why not?— But don't let us talk about that," Bertha added good-humouredly. "1 should only vex you. There'i something else Lwant to tell you—something you'll really be amused to hear." "Your ideas of amusement, Bertha-:—" "Yes, yes, but listen. It's about Mr Jollyman. Who do you think Mr Jollyman reallv is?"

Mrs Cross heaid the story with bent brows and lips seveicly 'set. "And why didn't you tell me this before, pray?" "I haidly know," answered the girl, thoughtfully, smiling. "Peilwps because I waited to hear more to make the revelation more complete. Buc " "And this," exclaimed Mrs Cioss, "is why vou wouldn't go to the shop yesterday?"' 'Y»s," was the flank lenly. "I don't think I shall go again." "And, pray, why not?" Beitha was silent.

"There's cue vp»y disagiceable thing in your character, Beitha,'' remarked her mother severely, "and that is your habit of hiding and concealing. To think that von found this out moie than a week ago! You'ii) veiy,very unlike your father. He never kept anything from me, never for an hour. But you ai e always rui.i. of secrets. It isn't nice—it isn't at iill nice " Since her husband's death Mrs Cross had never ceased discovering bis virtues. When lie lived, one of the reproaches with whicn she constantly souietl his existence was tliat of secretivcncss Aud Bertha, who knew something and suspected moie of the truth in this matter, never felt it so luud t'j bear with her mother as when Mis Cross bestowed such retrospective praise. "I have thought It over," she said quictlv, disregarding the reproof, "and on the whole I had rather'not go again to the shop." Thereupon Mrs Cross grew angiy, and for half an hour clamouied as to the disadvantage of leaving Jollvman's for another grocer's. In the end she did not leave him, but either went to the shop herself or sent the seivant. Great was her curiosity regarding the disguised Mr Warburton, with whom, after a significant coldness, she gradually resumed her old chatty relations. At length, one day in autumn, Bertha announced to her that she could throw moro light on tic Jollyman mystery; she had learnt the full explanation of Mr Warhurton's singular proceedings.

'' Fiom those people, I suppose?" «aid Mrs Cross, who by this phrase signified Mr and Mis Franks. "Then I don't wish to hear one word of it.'*

But as though she had not heard this remark, Bertha began her narrative, Mlie seemed to leneat what had been told her flitli a quiet pleasure "Well, then," was her mother's comment, "after all, there's nothing disgiaceful." "I never thought there was."

•".Then why "have- yon refused to enter his shop?" " It was awkward," -replied Bertha. "No mote awkward for you than for me," said Mrs Cross. "But I've noticed, Bertlm, that you are getting rather selfish in some things—l don't,- of course, say in EVEniTfliNO,—and I think it isn't difficult to guess where lint, comes fiom." Soon afler Christmas they nere left, by a familiar accident, without a servant; the girl who had been with them'for the last six months somehow contrived to get her box secretly out of the Jiouse, and disappeared (having just been paid her •(rages) without warn ins. Long and loudly did AIIS Cross rail against this infamous behaviour. ' '

The next morning* a young woman came to the house and inquired for Mrs Cross; Be'rtha, who had opened the door, led her hito the dining-room, and retired. Half an hour later Mrs' came into the parlour, beaming,

"There r.ow! If that wasn't a gooa idea! Who do you think sent that girl, Bertha?—Mr Jolfyman," Bertha kept silence. "I had to go into the shop yesterday, and I happened to speak to Mr Jollyman of the trouble I had in finding a good servant. It occmred to me that he mimit just possibly know of someone. He promised to malic inquiries, and here at once come? the nicest gill I've seen for a long time. She had to leave her last place because it was too hard; just fancy, a shop where she had to cook for 16 people, and see to five bedrooms; no wonder she broke down, poor tiling. She's been resting for a month or two; and sho lives in the same house as a person named Mrs Hopper, who is the sister of the wifo of .Mr Jollyman's assistant. And she's quite contents with fifteen pounds—quite." As she listened, Bertha whittled her ■forehead, and giew rather absent. She made no rematk, until, after r< long account of tho viitues the iiad already descried in Maitlin—this wa? the girl's name —Mis Cioss added, of course, she must go at once and thank Mr Jollyman. " I suppose you still address him by that name?" fell from Bertha.

"That name? Why, I'd really almost forgotten that it wasn't his real name. In any ease, I couldn't use the other in the shop, could I "Of course not; no."

" Now you spejk of it. Bertha," pursued Mrs Cross, "I wonder whether he knows that I know who he is?"

" Certainly lie does " "When one thinks of it, wouldn't it be better, Bertha, for 'you to go to the shop again now and then? I'm afraid the poor man may feel hint. He jh'ST have noticed that you never went again after that discovery, and ono leally wouldn't like him to think that you wcie offended."

"Offended? echoed the girl, with a laugh. "Offended at what'/" "Oh, some people, you know, might think his behaviour slrange—using a name that's not his own and—and so on." "Home people might, no doubt. ,But the poor man, as you call hiin, is prohabl} quite inditfcicnt as to what wc think of b'm."

"Don't you think It would be well if you went in and ju°t thanked him for sending the servant?" .

"Perhaps," replied Beitha, carelessly. But she did not go to Jlr Jollyman's, and Mrs Cross soon foigot the suggestion. Maitlia entered upon her duties, and dis charged them with such zeal, such docility, that her mistress never tired of lauding her. She Mas a young woman of rather odd appearance; slim and meagre and redheaded, with a never-failing simper on hci loose lips, and blue eyes that fiequentlj ■watered; she had somehow an air of Ming gentility in faded youth. Un deniable as ueie the good qualities she put forth on tins scene of innumerable domestic failures, Bertha could not altogether like her. Submissive to the point of slavish ncss, she had at times a look which did not haimonise at all with This demeanour, a something in her eyes diugtecably suggestive of mocking insolence. Bertha paiticularly noticici this on tho day after Martha had received her firfct wages. Leave having been given her to go out_ in the afternoon to make some purchases, she was

rather late in returning, and Berthn," meeting her as she entered, asked her to be is quick as possible in getting tea; whereupon the aomestic threw up her head and regarded the speaker from under her eyelids with an extraordinary smile then, with a " Yet, miss j this minute, iniss," 6campered upst-iirs to take her things off. All that evening her behaviour was strange. As: she waited at '.the supper table, she seemed to be sub'duing laughter, and in clearing away she for the first time broke a plate; whereupon she bujet into tears, and begged forgiveness so long and so wearisomely that she had at last to be ordered out of the room. On the morrow all wjs well again; but Bertha could hot help watching that singular countenance, and, the more she observed, the less she liked it. The more " willing " a servant, the more toil did Mrs Cross exact from her. When occasions of rebuke or of dispute were lacking, the day would have been long ano wearisome for her had she not ceaselessly plied the domestic drudge with tasks, and narrowly watched their execution. The spectacle of tli's slave-driving was a con-st-ant trial to Bertha's nerves; now and then sho ventured a mild protest, but only with the result of exciting her mother's indignation. In her mood of growing moral discontent, Bertha began to ask herself whether acquiescence 'n this sordid tyranny i\as not a culpable weakness, and one day early in the year—a wretched day of east wind,—when she saw Martha perched on an outer window-sill, cleaning panes, she found the coinage to utter resolute disappiovaj. " I dtin't understand you, Bertha, " replied Mrs Cross, the muscles of her face quivering as they did when she felt her dignity outraged. "What do we engage a servant for? Are tho windows to get so dirty wc can't see through them?" " They were cleaned not many days ago," said her daughter, " and I think we could manage to seo till the weather's less terrible."

"My deai', if we managed so as to give the servant 110 tiouble at all, the house would soon be in a pretty state. Be so good as not to interleie It's leally an extraordinary thing that that, as soon as I find a girl who almost suits me, jou begin to try to spoil her. One would think you took' a pleasure in making my life miserable " Overwhelmed with floods of reproach, Bertha had either to cuiubat or to resist. Again her nerves failed her, and she left the loom.

At dinner thai nay there was a roast leg of mutton, and, as her habit was, Mis Cioss caived the portion which Martha was to take away for herself. One very small and very thin slice, together with one unwholesome littlo potato, represented the savant's nical. As soon as the door had closed, Bertha spoke' in an ominously quiet voice.

"Mother, this won't do. I am very sm ry to annoj von, but if you call that a dinner for a girl who works hard 10 or 12 hours a day, I don't. How she supports life I can't undei'tand. You have only to look into her face to see she's starving. I can bear the sight of it no longer." This time, she held firm. Tho conflict lasted for half an hour, during which Mrs Cross twice threatened to faint. Neither of them ate anything, and in the end Bertha s,iw herself, if not defeated, at all events no butter off than at the begiuning, for her mother clnng fiercely to authority, and would obviously. live in perpetual strife rather than yield an inch. For the next two days clomstlc life was very unpleasant indeed; mother and daughter exchanged few words ; meanwhile Martha was tasked, •f possible, more-vigorously than ever, and fed mysteriously, meals no longer doled out to her under Martha's eyes. The third morning brought another ciisis. "I have .i letter from Emily," said Deitha, at breakfast, naming a friend ot here who lived m the far north of London. "I'm going to sec her to-day." "Vciv well," answered Mrs Cross, between rigid lips.

" She says that, in the house where she lives, there's a bed-sitting room to let. I think, mother, it might be better for me to take it."

"You will do just as you please, Bertha," " I shall have dinner to-day with Emily, and bo back about tea-time."

"I have no doubt," replied Mrs Cross, "tjiat .Martha will be so obliging as to have tea ieadv foi you. If she doesn't feet stroni; enough, of coursc I will see to jt myself." (To be continued.)