THE NOVELIST. THE QUICKSANDS of LIFE

Otago Witness, Issue 2429, 3 October 1900, Page 56

THE NOVELIST.

THE QUICKSANDS of LIFE

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL AREANGEMENT.]

■ •♦ • By ESTHER MILLER, Author of " Should She Have Spoken ? " " Tha St. Cadrx Case," &c, &c. [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER XVII.—THE LAWYER AND THE MAN.

LAN beard Warne's steps die away down the stairs—the steps of a man who was drunk. Then only he raised his eyes fiom the floor, and dropped heavily into a chair by tha table and hid his face. "My God!" What was he to do? What

a fatality that this man should have come to him! It was a nightmare too ghastly for words. What was he to do? If he had discovered Warne's guilt himself, he would have had no more mercy on him than on any other man ; he would have had no right to be merciful at Octavia's cost, even if she had been a stranger, to him. But Warne had come to constilt him professionally—confided in the lawyer, not in the man. And he had allowed him to confess—to impart information that would hang him ! Instead of stopping his mouthi at the first word with a warning of the close relationship between Octavia and him-. self, he not only let the wretched- boy unburden his mind of its dreadful secret, bufc he had led up to it himself, almost forced him into this confession with reassurances of the inviolability of his professional word. What a situation! Bound to the most profound secrecy bj. every written and unwritten code of honour, by a law as stoict as that which seals the mouth of a priest to the stories of the confessional. He loved this woman who was accused of the crime, and who stood in a position of such, peril, more than his life. What madness had possessed him to listen to so much? It seemed to him now that he had been as a man walking to the edge of "a pre-s cipice in a dream. His breast was torn with the most violent emotions. At one instant he wished to God that he had been stricken deaf and dumb before he had asked and heard this thing; at the next his heart leaped witli passionate exultation. Knowing what he <knew lie could sas§ bgr at any moments, i —■ ™ ■ - .- ~^~ - - -«=

EA'en if no convincing proofs of Warne's guilt could be obtained, no jury could possibly convict Octavia in the face of such a defence. She Avould be acquitted. What mattered the fate of a little reptile like this blood-stained lad? She, this woman that he loved, would be restored to him ; the gates of Paradise seemed gaping to let him in. After all there Avere limits to Avhat society could ask of any man. It Avas Providence which had placed in his hands this Aveapon for Octavia's defence ! He had despaired, he had prayed, and his prayers had been angAvered! Why, if he Avere meant to held his tongue, should Warne have come to him more than to any other laAvyer in London? This case Avas not as other cases ; the laAv of secrecy Avas not meant to apply to such a circumstance as this. Suppose lie kept quiet, and Octavia were corracted ! Would he not be almost as criminal as this young coAvard who hid himself behind a av Oman's back? It would be ;<n infamy unspeakable — a cruelty a man should go mad in dAvelling on and dash out his brains for merely its contemplation ! He Avas human, not a god. The cravings of flesh and blood to save the Avoman he loved, no matter at ■what cost, were so intense that they Avere almost pain. He could imagine her face Avhen he told her, the cry of relief and joy •■with which she Avould throAv herself into 'his arms. And ai£<>rAvards — afterwards, when she Avas free, and they were together at last, and she Avas his Avife ! With 'half a dozen Avords he could change the anxiety she suffered iioav to perfect happiness. •Why did he linger Avith such iicavs to impart? An hour ago he would have been ready to buy her peace of mind for a day at the cost of his life, and now he hesitated with such a gift of relief undeclared ! He was a coward ; he Avas mad ! No man Avould think tAvice in his place.

He started to his feet, his face flushing, his eyes blight. "Yes, I AA'ill go to her iioav — iioav. Oh, OctaA r iai" With his hand on the door he stopped.

A man, a guiltj- man, had appealed to a laAvyer for advice and help, and this laAvyer Avas going straighlAvaj to betray him ! "A man may say anything to a laAvyer, mayn't he':" Spencer h^.d asked. And" he •had ansAvered "Yes."' ' What sort of a cur would he be if he broke his word and violated every canon of moral" laAv for loA r e? The wretched man returned to the centre of the room, and ,«ank in a chair groaning, i Honour pulled him one Avay, lcA*e another, ! until he Avas nearly lent in two. Why, out of all the lawyers in London, should (Spencer Warne haA'excome to him? Why had he been gifted with such unnatural acuteness of perception at the time? Why* had Warne been &o weak, so silly, as to make such admissions to any man? But he might ask himself such questions all day and night, and there was nobody to ansAver him. It Avas Fate that he should suffer a mental torture Avtiich no man, surely, had ever suffered before ! At one moment he told himself that he Avas unnatural, a monster infamous, to consider for an instant that he ought to hold his tongue ; the next he veered again to the other standpoint — the standpoint of the lavrver Avhose position is almost as sacred as a priest's. "I'll .sleep on it," he decided. Sleep ! He Avent to bsd, but he could not lie still, much more sink into the oblivion Avhich is one of the greatest bless- j ings, perhaps, of this life of ours. After ] tossing and Avrilhing for a couple of houis, i he lighted the candle, and half dressed him- ] self and paced the room. Was she sleeping noAvV What Avould she think oi his '. thoughts if she could only knoAV them? Would she consider him a martyr or a coldblooded brute? "Octavia! Oh, Octavia!" He cried her name aloud, sometimes in anguish indescribable ; his eyes were the eyes of a man on the rack. If she had been a stranger the position Avould haA'e been "painful enough ; but the, woman he loved ! "He had trusted her when she Avas unworthy of his trust, showing a confidence and loyalty not one in a million Avould have shoAvn ; he lwd v.iluid Tirr higher than an immense fmtune, and nun Dusliny said to him with the voif c of < nvimi&tances : j "You imihl hit hoi go to prison — die,

suffer untold anguish, for the sake of a worthless cur you scarcely knoAV !'"

The candle guttered and went out. It was easier to think in the dark ; he could see her pale face plainer, and the face, pale, mean, coAvardly, of the man Avhose secret he had Wrung from him. Which was the nobler of the tAvo — -that of the man Avho had received all the advantages of birth and training, 'and reached such a criminal end. or that of the Avoman Avho, labouring under eA'ery disadvantage, of education and environment, had proA-ed so responsiA'e to a higher ideal, so receptive of better things? Was her, life no more to the Avorld than that of a Spencer Warne? What a Avife slie Avould make — what a mother ! He breathed thickly, and his arm Quivered to embrace the vision

of his mind. If only by the laAv Avhich ordains the survival of the fittest, she ought to be saved. And she Avas innocent.

She should be saved !

The dull grey light of dawn Avas creeping through the blinds when, at last, the man made up his mind. It Avas a relief to be sure. He would think no more, Aveigh no more. The balance Aras cast.

Yes, it Avas an immense relief. ' A weight Avas raised from his chest. He could re-member noAV that he had not slept ; realise that his head ached horribly, and his eyes felt stiff and tired. ,His limbs ached too ; he had been on 'his feet all night. "When physical sensations overpower mental, the crisis of a mind's unrest is past.

In the broad light he could see his watnh — 5 o'clock. Several hours must pass be.fore he could Fee Octavia. He stumbled into bed again, and slept like a dog.

When he aAvoke at the sound of the housemaid's knuckles on the door with his shaving Avater, he could not remember in the instant between sleeping and waking Avhat had occurred. Then it all came back. Last nignl — this morning rather, decision had left 'him too Avorn out for any other sensation than relief. Now suddenly his pulses began to leap. He had the golden key in his hand Avhich Avould unlock Oc-ta-via's fetters — the key to the mystery which had puzzled them all so long.

She was his again — this Avoman that he loved ! An ecstacy of joy ran like quicksilver through his veins. He hungered to be happy with the pa&sionate hunger of youth. The fruit of life Avas in his hands again — Avithin reach- of his hands.

He trembled, dressing himself ; he could not eat. What Avould she .«ay? He could imagine her tears, her happiness, her loA T e. Her release Avould come tlu'ough- him ; she Avould owe her liberty if not her life to him. What a 'bond !

The hansom craAvled which took him to the station — the express craAvled. His impatienca for the sight of her/ the touch of her, vras like a feA'er ; and every minute Avas an hour. Yet, Avhen he arrived at last, his OAvn clumsiness surprised him. Instead of blurting out the news he had to bring, he only kisssd her again and again Avith the tenderness and passion of a fareAvell. "You haA'e not slept, Lucian," she said, and her little fingers softly traced the dark shadow.s under his eyes. 1 "No,"' he said, looking doAvn, and did not tell her why. ' His tongue, Avhich would have been so facile last night, even an hour ago, see,med fastened to a leaden Aveight. "A man may tell anything to his laAvyer, mayn't he. ' "Yes."' He caught the woman's bonds in his and drew them to Ins breust, and looked deep into her eyes. "How much do you love me? If I beat you, Avould you loA-e me? If I cast you into prison, Avould you loA'e me? If I struck you even to death, would you love me?" "Yes," she cried, "yes — yes — yes !" "If I dishonoured myself for you, Avould you love me too?" "Dishonoured:" she repeated, pLrmking, Avondering. "You couldn't — you Avouldn't lie, Lucian !" "I am a man, not a god. Do you think I have never done \u-ong':"' "You are Lucian ; I loA r c you for Avhat you are." "I Avould kill myself and you, if that could keep us together!"

"Lucian! Lucian!"' '"Oh, lam mad !" he cried, me mad. I love you so !"

"Grief drives

Tire throes he had endured the previous night were upon him again, but she could not understand. She thought merely that he was afraid for her because they made so little headway in material for the defence.

He could not bear to stay with her any longer. Her voice, her eyes, tortured him. He dared not speak, he could not hold his tongue. Those scruples, which another man would r.ot have considered for an instant, racked this idealist, who could sacrifice a vast fortune for a woman's love, with the pains of the damned.

He left her in even greater anguish than he had endured before, and went back to London to face the problem in his lonely rooms again. He cursed Warne, he wished that wretched lad at the bottom of the sea. If only a kincTiy Providence would wipe him out! What a relief it would be!

Nightfall found him no nearer ease of mind. He thought he had decided, and now words, incidents recurred to him.

"If I do not sleep to-night, I shall go mad," he thought.

He went to a chemist, and' asksd for a sleeping draught. The stuff had no more effect upon him than if he had drunk milk.

Then despair seized this unfortunate man, and reason itself seemed slipping from him.

"I am accursed !" he cried. "Is this punishment? What have I done?"

If he had committed some frightful crime which no man knew of, he could not have deserved harder treatment at the hands of Desiiny. That frightful night was more intolerable than the last, for then his brief decision had at least brought some respite to his sufferings. Was conscience God's curse to man, no more?

"If I were a blackguard, I .should let Spencer Warne hang— .stive her if it cost a dozen lives. And why not, after all? What is any man or any woman to me beside her? Let the world drown — burn — so long ay she is given back to me ; let duty lie in the mud !"

His revolt grew, passion-fed. Hitherto he had tried to reconcile the irreconcilable ; decide which way duty called— in the way which suited him best. To-night he gave iip the useless marshalling of pros and cons. He loved this woman, he wanted her ; and if -his immortal soul' was the price of her, what odds ! His life was nearly all before him ; he was a young man and strong. For so many years the bliss of living with Oct-ivia would be his, and he thought of her beauty, her charm, her love, till his brain swam. It seemed to him that he could commit any crime foilier at this moment ; that he could steep his soul in the blackness of hell to call her his wife.

He was delirious ;he was mod. Such a frame of mind could not be natural or lasting in such a man as Lucian. His passion wore itself out by its very violence, and the morning light found him, not resolved against his conscience as formerly, bul in a mood of remorse almost as morbid and exiggerated as_ his defiance of the night.

"A man may -trust his lawyer, mayn't he?" The commonplace words were to live in his memory till his dying day. What man, sane and endowed with a grain of justice, could reconcile them with the betrayal tbat he had pror>osed? That the v. Oman accused was so dear to him was his mi&ioiuiiie ; but it did not afreet the case. Would he have contemplated his rescue at a client's cost if she had boon a stranger V No Rwyei could seriously ask liim&elf such a question. If justice were plain justice, would any lawyer plead a guilty client's cause V No criminal, if that were so, could procure legal assistance and advice. The problem was merely a problem to him because r Octavia was involved. Yet how could he face her, knowing what he knew? If silence were a torture when ho was alone, whit did it become when they were face to faceV He dared not trust VlhWlf

"I will not see her to-daj ,"' lie thought

He had premised, in bis hurry to escape yesterday, to be with hei again to-day. And ail tke morning the consciousness of

her disappointment came beiweon his eyes and the ' papers he strove to read. His hear I, so big, so tender, bade him comfort her ; his honour held him back.

Till mid-day he kept his word to himself, and then he could bear no more. How terrible to be accused of such a crime ; to be alone— alone ! The weight on his own breast told him what hers must be ; the aching of his own heart mirrored the aching of hers. Oh, the infamous injustice of this thing that had come to pass ; the brutality — yes, the brutality — of the share in it forced upon himself ! She was a victim, a martyr, a woman ; and in his terror for his own immaculate conscience, he could find the courage to leave her alone for a whole, long miserable day.

(To be continued.)