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THE PRICE OF A LIFE.

By FABIAN B&ZL. .

Author of "After Long Tears," "Stella," "The Maharajah's Diamonds," " The House in the fells" "The Letter in Cypher," "He aud She," " The Hmto of the Arawa," Ac, (fee.

lAll Rights Resebvbd."]

Chapter XXXII. Hall Contemplates Matrimony. SEN Ethel spoke. " Do you cot know me either, Mr Hardcastle? It is not so very long since we parted on board the Dunbar, when yon condemned me, as you thought, to a terrible death. Yon hare a convenient memory, bat I have not forgotten that moment if you have." " I have not forgotten what I never knew," he said steadily.- "My name is not Hardcastle, and I never saw either of yon ladies in my life; and if yon persist in making these extraordinary claims upon me, I mast call in the aid of the police, and have yon conveyed to the asylum from which you have evidently escaped."

"Coward I " cried Ethel, with undisguised scorn. " You cannot treat tw in that manner. I have friends to protect me, and so has she. Look up, Eulalie, and treat him with the scorn that he deserves ; h« is not worth one tear from those sweet eyes. Let us go bow, and place your cause in the hands of those who will know how to obtain justice for you. Let us leave him for to-night to his evil conscience and the enjoyment of his illgotten gains. I know they are ill-gotten, since nothing that he does can be well done, coward and liar that he is 1 " "Pretty strong language for a woman," he retorted, sneering. " Jamieson, take these ladies to the gate and put them outside; and, hark you I don't let them in again ; and if they won't go, call the police and give them in charge."

"It is not necessary to do that," said Eulalie, with white lips. "If you do not wish to acknowledge me, I will go. You need .not order your servant to turn me out."

For one moment his hard face quivered, and Ethel, who watched him keenly, thought that his defence would break down after all ; but the weakness was only momentary. He knew that at whatever cost he must get rid of them before bis guosts arrived, and he rigidly maintained his ground.

" You are under some strange mistake," he said gravely. "I do not like to be rude to laßies ; for though only a .digger, I've a great respect for the fair sex," and be bowed mockingly to Ethel. " But you must excuse me reminding you that I am expecting guests, and they would be a little surprised to see you here. If I might suggest, it would bs better for you to call on me at my hotel, or, if you have any claims to make, to do so through my lawyers, Smith and Smith."

Eulalie shivered. She had drawn back. Now she took a sudden step forward, and standing in the bright light looked steadily at him.

" Am I, indeed, so changed that you cannot recognise rae 1 " she cried in a thrilling voice. "I, who am your wife, who have lain in your arms, the mother of your little unseen child 1 " . . " I have no wife," he said in the same unmoved tone; " and no phild." "Ob, Conrad 1" she jcontinued, ignoring his interruption, "if you only saw her, our Rita, the sweetest, dearest little pet iv the world. She in more than four years old now, and you have never seen her. She can run and prattle, and Sky mamma and papa. Would you not like to tee her 2 Ob, 'come home with me, and let us be happy together as we w«re yeais ago in the dear home country, bafoxe you were bo taken up with business. We may be poor, but that would not matter," for up to this time Eulalie had not realised that the* man whom' she was addressing was the millionaire for whose great fete she and her friend bad been working all day. Ethel of course knew this, and had had the underlying consciousness of a possible tragedy present with her-the whole time. But Eulalie was taken completely by snrprise, and if she thought of the matter at all, supposed that Conrad was a friend of their employer, and not the great man himself. " Conrad, Oonrad i " she repeated in a piercing voice of indescribable sweetness, which smote upon the false heart she was addressing as if it must penetrate between the joints of its triple armour o£ selfishness. But he would not hear her.

" I do not know you," he replied. " Not know me ! Oh, you have been ill, you have forgotten. People often lose their memories and forget when they have been ill. That is it.. You were shipwrecked— you suffered. Ah, yes, I know all about it, yon see You suffered so 'much that your memory went away. But it will come back. Ob, yes, it will come back. Only believe what I say. Come with me, and let me nurie you, and your memory will return. Ah, yes, surely it will return." She put out her band and laid it caressingly on his sleeve. For one second, for one fraction of a second, his resolution wavered. If it had been possible to yield to her pleading he might have doce it. But it was not possible. He bad embarked on each, a coarse of false-

hood that he was keenly conscious of the impossibility of drawing back. Repentance Is possible for some men, for him it involved too much. The time was not yet. *If he had known it, that was the supreme moment of his life, his last ohance. Bit be closed his heart, and the opportunity was gone. Jamicsoa came sidling op to him. " The ladies, sir — Mrs Mason's carriage is just outside."

" Yes, yes, then these persons must go. I do not wish to be rude," he said, bowing to Eulalie, and oarefully ignoring her companion; "and, of course, if you wish to remain here, I can have no objection, but I think you will hardly and it agreeable— in that costume."

Eulalie immediately became conscious of soiled hands and tnmbled hair, and ot a collar and cuffs that had lost their freshness. These are trifles in themselves, but the oonsoiousnesß tbat they are oat of order puts a | woman at a disadvantage in ber own eyes, as well as in the eyea of others. " Come, Ethel," she said, " let us go." "This way, this way," cried Jamieson, bustling them out by a side entrance and burning with curiosity to learn the meaning of the extraordinary scene, of which he had witnessed quite enough to make him long to , know more, If only to give him a hold overbis master, whom in his heart he cordially hated as an upstart and "nouveau riche." " What business has be ' to be better of! than me ? I'm quite aa good as he is." These were not the first women who had looked his master up at odd times and places, bnt he knew instinctively that — in spite of their shabby dress and apparent position — these were not as the others whom he bad seen. These were real ladies. As he ushered them through the illuminated garden to a small side gate be longed to qaestion them, but did not dare. They, oo their part, said nothing. Eulalie leant heavily on the arm of her friend, and neither of fcbara locked to the right hand or to the left or appeared to take any notice of the splendour by which they were surrounded. Such indifference appeared to Jamieson as in the highest degree unnatural. Here there was a mystery of some sort, into which he longed topenerate?

" You did them flowers uncommon well," be said, with hie hand on tha gate. '"Twas too bad of the boss not to let you stay and see the fun."

Sulalie started, and put her band in her pocket for her purse, the old instinct of feeing servants beiog still strong within her, bat Ethel lain a restraining band on hers, and said quietly, "We do cot wish to slay any longer. Good-night."

The gate opened and shut, and they stood without.

At the same moment the first carriage drove up to the entrance, and Mrs Mason, resplendent in satin and diamonds, got out, and giving her skirts a skilful shake, went forward* to meet her host with outstretched hands. Ella, in an exquisite dress of pure white, followed her mother.

Eulalie and Ethel drew back lest the wheels of the carriage should graza them, and Jamieson took the opportunity to whisper over the gate, "'That's the gal that the boss is sweet on. She's a real beauty, isn't she 2 " The party was a great success in every detail, tho beautifully-decorated rooms, the floor, the music, the sapper, the company, left nothing to be desired. Ie was an occasion to be long remembered, and rendered even more noteworthy by the catastrophe whiob bo soon afterwards befell its chief actor. There were those who, in the light of after events, declared that they had noticed something strange in Hall's manner that very night. But thess were of that large class of prophets who prophesy after the event. At the time no one saw any fault— there was no hitch, no contretemps of any kind. Only in the heart of the giver of the feast a premonition of evil awoke, and could not be stilled. In vain he strove to drown his fears. In the whirl of the dance, when bo held the prettiest girls in his arms, and found them only too willing and eager to be gracious, he thought of Sulalie — her pleading voice and his own obstinate denial.

" I loved her once," he thought. " Bah ! what is love to a man like me. Gratified passion is the only thing I crave. ' No wife, but a willing miutresa, and no ties but such as are cemented by hard cash I "

He thought of the child whom he had never seen, and wondered what she was like ; and wondered still more at his own folly in taking thought on such a question. Then he went into the sapper room and took a stiff nobbier of whisky as a pick-me-up.

After supper the fun became fast and furious. The music was perfect— -it was exciting, it was maddening. There was a flavour of Bohemiaoism about the whole affair which, taken in small doses, was not without its charm even for the most straightlaced matrons. The Ballroom was d««t:rted, the company preferring the alfresco floor in the midst of the artificial garden, where a voluptuous semi-darkness bathed all the senses in a languorous delight. The night was perfect — such a night as is only possible in a semi-tropical country, where it goes far to reconcile one to the heat and inconveniences of the day. The Btars palpitated in the blue depths of the unfathomable sky.

On such a night death and fear have no place. They belong to another world, with which we have nothing to do. Life and love and the gratification of the senses, these are the only things worth living for. When they are no longer ours, or we can no longer enjoy them, then we will think of Nemesis, not before.

Hall was wild with excitement, bis eyes blazed, bis hands burned. He was dancing with Ella, her supple form lay in his arms, her favourite scent stole upon his senses. He clasped her tighter and tighter, until the grasp was painful, asd she straggled to free herself.

"How dare you I" she cried, and he responded with incoherent words of love and of passion, from which she turned in disgnst. " I think he hag been drinking too much, mamma. Let me stay with you," she pleaded. Bnt Mrs Mason wouldn't hear of such a thing, and greeted her intended son-in-law with effusion. Agam he drank, and again he danced. Ella shrank from his daring words and the boldness of bis glances. And all the time a strange fear knocked at his heaiL and he tried it vain to silence it.

" Where is Eulalie now 1 " ho thought. ' What is she doing ? Now that she has found me what will b« her next move ? Shall I be oompeiled bo acknowledge her and return to London, slipping my neck into the yoke matrimonial like a tame bullock ? Never, oh never I lam f red now ; I will remain free at whatever cost. I have ''paid such a price for it I cannot lose it now. Would she take a bribe, I wonder 7 She seemed poorj her dress was shabby. I could make her rioh beyond the dreams of avarice." Bat he knew that she would not take his money. " And her companion, that horrid Rainbird girl. How did they meet, L wonder! Tha sight of that girl bodes no* good, t always knew that the was my evil j genius. How did she escape from the Danbar, I wonder ? I thought all the lot were drowned, curse them,"

And still the music rose and fell, and tha lights flashed and burned; and still Hall danced. And the girls, though they protested, enjoyed the pace and the excitement, and (he cense of something forbidden and dangerous, which is the «pioe of all enjoyment—the keen edge of the knife that would cut, only they thought It would not cut them.

H For this ona night I will enjoy myself," he thought, n let to-morrow bring what it may. Perhaps when these girls know the truth they wilt have nothing more to say to me.' But they shall never know. I will tie the others' tongues somehow. A short life and a merry one, that's my maxim, and I have enjoyed mine to the uttermost, and I mean to enjoy it still more. Bat [ must leave here — most seek fresh scenes and pastures new. Where shall Igo ? 'Frisco— that's the place. Why did I not go there before? .A man can do what he likes thero, and no fear of Btraight-lacad Puritans. Yes, I'll be off, and the sooner the better. And that reminds me that this affair will cost a lot of money, and my other pleasures have been expansive. Before I leave the country I'll hive another dip into the treasure cave. That's a good idaa. It will take me out of Melbourne, and while I'm gone the lawyers can realise my securities, and then" he pulled himself together suddenly and cried aloud in impassiooad accents, " Have you enjoyed yourself, my darling ? " " Don't o«ll me your darliog," panted Ella. "I am not and I never will be," but he laughed sardonically and swore that he adored her. " And I hate you— you know that I do." " What matter 1 Hate is akin to love. It is at auy rate better tban indifference, and I adora you." " No, you do not," said the clear-sighted girl. " You love no one but yourself," and that was a truth that he could not deny, however much he might protest. "Confess, at least, that my tent is not close, or the floor uneven. If you have been mistaken once, you may be mistaken again. That little head is not quite infallible."

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/OW18960507.2.182.1

Bibliographic details

Otago Witness, Issue 2201, 7 May 1896, Page 41

Word Count
2,570

THE PRICE OF A LIFE. Otago Witness, Issue 2201, 7 May 1896, Page 41

THE PRICE OF A LIFE. Otago Witness, Issue 2201, 7 May 1896, Page 41

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