"What Was He."

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIIC, Issue 13704, 19 September 1908, Page 1 (Supplement)

"What Was He."

Robert Lane and his wife occupied th<j first floor in'-a respectable' "street in Faddington, where the houses were let out in tenements. They had as pietty and comfortable a little home as any in their diss, could Trisli, a nice siting* room and bedroom, and a little third room tilted •as a kitchen, all compact. "They had only been married about a year, -and all - went smoothly and-in happy contentment; Alice, blithe over her housework, proud to have it" spick and span, and a hot supper ready when a husband came' home ironi his business. When he was " courting" he had told her'that lie did business on his own account for gentlemen, and earned a lot of money; and, indeed, 'Alice's regular weekly money was two pound# for house money alone, without the rent, to ' his it must have been a genteel sort of employment, such' as an agent, perhaps, for' Robert always dressed in a nice" suit of cloth; He - ; left " home at half-past eight, and' usually came back about seven, and waa sometimes later; "detained at the office, dear," be-wtiuhi say, "and then I have to get here from the city." But he had never, said anything* as to the exact 4o£ale of his office, or even explained explicitly what his business was, and Mrs. Lane took it in the vague, matter-of-course Way, which one' often, "finds' in the. young woman of her-cbfts, that berßobett mu ao " agent of some kind, and much gcnteeler than an artisan.'-' So she asked no questions, simply because it never entered her head that there might possibly be something to question him about. She was young, and bad the insouciance of the' uneducated mind. " You alwavs come in so tired, Rob, dear," she said one evening, as Lane dropped info his chair with evident grief —not more thai* usual, though, only she bad .not liked to remark .on it before. "Yes, I do, dear. Often I have lo go about a good bit.." "Can't you ride a bit!" "No, not much." He pujled off his clean, shining boots. "One's so in and out in the city." Alice's eyes glanced involuntarily at the boots, then at his good brown suit. She' smiled. and >aid brightly, .in perfect good faith; ■ . ;' . " Yes. Well, I never did see anyone wear his things so wonderfully well you do. There isn't a hole in those clothes or boots; had tb<-in all this year. I csn't" imagine how you manage it." said she laughing. and did not see a* she got supper ready the ijueer look that flashed into the man's eyes —>uspicion, vexation, fear, which was it, or all three " Pooh! my dear, I'in careful, that".* all." he raid', with a little laogh. that was uneasy, and somehow vaguely sttuck her ear at forced. J "So you are, but still a year is l»ng to wear >o well. I ivi>li my drvss would." added Alice. Lone bit his lip, and began übruptly talking of something elce—m< abruptly that Alice noticed it to herself- " ! don't like my -siring hi* cloth?* lasted fO lon-». Why. T wonder? I.«»r. men is t Well, it's no niiiilcr." Rut still, *otiuhow. >h .«*a« li;«uiit«-d by tlw conversation and Robetl* manner —" He was funny." That week it chanced while puiting a clean muslin sliftrt curtain to h-r <.|*n bedroom window .'•lie overheard the parlour floor lodger ask tho landlady- -both in the backvard l>elow —"what th.i' thtro first floor lodger, if you pie*-. he think* bi*>eH such a la-di-da n.u»I1? "Whit i» he. Mrs. Jones," the landlady, busy lunging out » I clothes; "a nice, civil young wan. i J {uy* to tho hour. Hi* mi>*i« >;«y- ---; lu'V a hagent of >OlllO s " rt • a °d earn.*a lot. one can see." " Hagent, indeed!" ach-ied the other in «nvioui scorn, " tiKT«'s hag-nts and hagent?. ma'am. Ho ain't no Ix-ttcr iwr n» —just the working cl.i»v about rigged up to ape a gentleman. " Well, it ain't my l>u«im-»- n"r Mrs. June*: he pays hi* way. anyW- ' "I*'iap». ni.i'ain" ;iil<>th»r «n-or >t umv be b«a»y to j*«y with money. Tho"re'« queer "« " * beer* <>f: how*ome«lev«-r. I •!"'» t ' Alice* Lane heard. ftu»hrd and because "he wa.« tb.wrougbly uiw-u»y .n.i »tirit-d up: not «-xactlr !«u»p' cl " u * "• " 1 husband, but re.-all.ng tl.i- tnfl- and 'that--the r|i.the>" durability. K«.i»eit * *i!enr- .-<» t" b»» bu*in>«« y«-«. *?><- »» M-e that he 1.1.1 differed b«-r to. nnp-y 1 whal h<- «ii«. lint ti-vrr »Jid «h-">t he : sr.««. I.r «h- "e tie offif.- w.l* ; indeed. he j had never .-poken about hi- bti»mc«« ! -m a»k httn AM »«t." Oie rn'itt.r d ' resolutely. " I've a right to. and I wili, ! It can't l>e any thins wrons or «r 'ii» : graceful," *l<- < lioke<l. "my Rob i«n'l ■ tint sore -•pit.efol r.it that Mr*, .lone* !i. • Rut I'll ask him. l'U t«4l lum I wint

And slie did. alter supper. Lane reddened up suddenly and hotly. "How dare the woman gossip and question what I am or do?" lie Mazed out, in a manner that startled liis wife strangely, the offence seemed so inadequate to cause such fury. "What the d 1 is it to her, or anybody but myself, what- my business is ?" " None of hers, certainly, dear," said Alice, getting out some needlework, but

«he wisely said no more toll his anger had soothed down under the quieting effects of a pipe. Then she said cheerily, glancing up: "But, by the way, dear, I don't re? member that you ever exactly told me what is your business* or where the office is." He started and frowned. "No," he said, shortly, "no need to bother you with such-like stuff.". "It wouldn't bother me, Robert, 3nd T wish to know," she said, gently but firmly. " And I don't wish it, then, and don't mean to tell you—except that it's not dishonest." "Of course not, Robert; but—but I'm quite sure "that you are keeping something from me. lam your wife, and I've the'right to know what I ask." "The right !" He started up in a blaze again. "Whether you have or not, I refuse to answer any questions, there!" "You won't tell me, Robert?" "No, once and for all." " Very well, then; I shall find out." "Will you, by the Lord?" he said, between bis teeth. " Take this warning, my girl, before you try! If you did, if you could succeed, in that hour I leave you and never come back." She made no answer, but worked on, white and resolute. She did not believe that threat, of course, nor did ha believe hers. x The third morning after this Lane wentout as usual, smart and spruce; but had 1 not reached the end of the street wlien j out of the door came a woman in an old black " grandmother" sort of clokc and poke bonnet, with, a crap® veil—an i old person, by the stoop and,gait; butt i she kept the mail in new, at a safe distance, and be never looked back, being. quit© unsuspicious. She followed him across the Edgeware Road, down a low, back street. saw him turn down into a little court, dirty and disreputable enough to sicken herth«» haunt-of thieves and becnars. * probably. Hiding under a. stable archway near, she saw the man vanish into one of ; the wre'tched dwellings. - In ten minutes from the same door came—evidently one of his tenants—an old. povertystricken beegar-man, holding a few matchboxes in his shaking hand. At seven o'clock Robert Laney smart as ever, enme home, but suddenly stood still as he saw his wife's face. "Are you ill? What's the matter, 'Alice " he exclaimed, advancing; but she him back. I holding a chair-back tightly herself. Her lips were bloodless, her eyes iglittering. "I know nil." eh* said, in a hoarse whisper. "Oh. the shame and disgraco of it!" "What! you-—you hsve dared to— 1 " l?o fell back a step,' hot and cold with fury, and shame. "Ye*. I have found out What you nro —a living - imposter—a beggar in the Western squares and streets, imposing, ou the mistaken charity of the passers-by. T followed you to-day. I saw you enter that den. and came out disguised, but T knew you through it all! Great Heaven I T seemed paraylsed! I had never dreamt of that—and you dared to call your 'business' an honest one!" She wrumr her poor hands now. "Oh,. God. to be f beggar impostor's wife- - deceived from the beginning, only to break my heart. How could you face mo dav alter day, knowing whafi yon -w» je dainjar. became you would nift work - a man. ". "That's it." ho said roughlv; but not meeting her ey«s. "I bated work ,*nrl low watres compared h> what 1 could earn. Now hear toy say-!. You've kept your word, and you've found me out—-now I'llkeep mine. by—!—for I knew T could never face you again after the disgrace was found out, said never meant to. You fool to dare mo!" He caught up his hat, the door slammed, and the woman was alone. The landlady heard a heavy fall, and rushed up—to find Alice in a dead faint. Lane kept his word; sho never saw or heard of him again; but. whatsoever she suffered, one thing she never regretted—that she had her word.