TOM QUARTERMAINE'S WIFE.

Observer, Volume XVI, Issue 965, 26 June 1897, Page 6

TOM QUARTERMAINE'S WIFE.

By Louis De Robert.

W«#w^^Bn 7 Httle''ctocfrb'li" y\ the mantel struck' / strokes: DißtnistKjeH; 7^ wF sing-; hiaservaint >>bsi««isß^ ti»£ n.aine 'shut himlibrary, where a , clear wood fire was burning, briskly, and, slightly lowering; the flame- of the lamp, he was soon absorbed in a book. In the si&ne^tnat followed/ the ringing of the street bell sounded shrilly thro trgh 1 the; apartment; As he- was not expecting^ any-otiei he dS& not stir. A' second peal sounded; and this time he arose and, taking . thfrlsfinp.'-wentrt'o' open the door. A darlr form awaited him in the vestibule. In the' light thrown sharply out by the lamp-shade, Tomrecb^usea hitfwife. ' Ysju4'- he- stammered. Shedid not move, she did not speak, but stood? silently waiting; . Above them opened the shaft of the stairway, dcJwn whitn the 1 single jet of gas cast a softened light, as of dusk. The sound of voices ascended to them from a lower floor. 'Gome inside,' he said. He led the 'way to the library and made her sit down in an easy chair, aud then they looked at one another. One evening she had left him ; coming, home,, he had- found the house empty, with a note on the table—two" lines of farewell hurriedly scrawled - in pencil., Now, atter five years of absence she had come back,- she was there opposite him, handsome still, but with an intangible suggestion of extinguishment, of dejection, of beingiaded, revealed in her air of weariness,and suffering. She was dressed in a simple Black gown, so worn that it shone at the elbows, and the seams were white. A strand of silver showed among the brown tresses on her brow. . It seemed to Tom as : if something, within him were sealed up, ' . dead, for he was not at all moved.- ' Then, as he did. not question her, she j;old him in a- few words, without pretence of shame, that, abandoned in her turn, she : had been alone since the evening before, that" she had spent the entire day crying. She had eaten nothing, had gone out in the evenings wandered aimlessly about, found herself at his door, and had come in. Still he said nothing, and in the chill silence five years of their life passed before .their mental vision, his five years for him and her five years for her. . When she had left him, when he had found the house empty, it had been the destruction of all his joys, the shattering of his happy life ; he had thought he could never recover from the blow, and he had lived on like a broken thing, feeling his reason totter. That had lasted six months — a year. No news of her had come to him, and the hope that kept vigil in the ruins of his home died, too. Then he had ceased to think,, had let himself drift like a wreck, like a lost thing. His home, a luxurious little nest, had redeemed him; he had been recalled to himself by being in his accustomed rooms, surrounded by familiar furniture, forgetfulness had come to him . as it come 3 after all great griefs, as it comes - at the end of all things, and-Tom had settled down to the even, satisfied life of an old bachelor. __ Bhe who had deserted him to run after what is thought to be happiness had imagined herself happy, a queen, for six . months, a year, just' the time he had spent in lamenting and suffering. But the awakening had been terrible. Her passion satiated, she had judged in cold blood the main Bhe had chosen, for whom she had broken all restraints, braved the conventions of the world, and denied hervows He was small, mean, not to be compared with her husband, and the life of which she had serenely dreamed, a life of joy and unalloyed delight, had become her crucifix. For five years, tied~to that man, she had 'tasted drop by drop the bitterness of that loveless, faithless, sunless life, until the day when she knew the desolate despair of dead passions. Then money had been lacking, chilling misery had come, and the bond had worn till it "broke. In her turn she" had found herself abandoned, weeping in misery and alone. And now life had brought together again this husband and this wife. He grew stout, commonplace, comfortable ; ' she weary, conquered, -miserable. In the silence between them, the noises ' of the street! below sounded distinctly in the, room. A cab rattled by, a shopman put* up' his shutters; a passer-by coughed, and the sound re-echoed in the distance.. Tofe" moved. his "keys in his pocket,' and their sudden jingling roused him. He ■ recalled his' wife's last words.

' You are hungry,' he said,, and he went to the kitchen. There was some' soup still warm, and' the remains of a chicken,- which he brought, in. He served her on one corner- of the table, where he spread a napkin, and as she ate, he made another trip to the kitchen and brought back a bottle of wine, from which he filled her glass. He watched her eatnow', saw the colonr return to her cheeks, and' her' hunger satis--fied, a. sense of content gradually pervade her whole being: When she had finished, I they began to talk. . • I have met you twice,' she said, almost at ease under the influence of food and warmth. 'The first time was three years ago. You passed so near, you ' brushed against me. I turned as pale as that napkin, but you went on without seeing me.' He seemed surprised. 1 The other time,' she continued, ' I think | you did see me. It was raining, and I was waiting for a car. You came along, and I immediately hurried off, but you followed' me. ■ I walked very quickly, but I could hear your steps behind me. Then you lost track of me, for I looked back and you were no longer there/ . ' He did hot recall the incident ; he was quite sure he had never seen her. She went on to tell him that she lived quite near by in the same quarter ; and hewas astonished that, living so near her, he had been entirely unaware of her existence. - Now she settled back cozily in her chair, feeling relaxed, grown tender. She found this armchair just as she had known it before; she found all the things about her in their old places. Nothing was changed; the hangings were the same, the furniture, the ornaments— all had a friendly air, an air of welcome. It was good to be in this home, of which she was taking possession again after five years' absence. Fordidnot this dinner on the corner of the table attest their reconciliation ? The lamp -on the table wa3 the same- that had lighted them when they kissed each other in the old days. It was all at an end now— that equivocal existence, the misery and disgust of those five years of slavery. She would resume her place^in her home beside the husband who forgave her; she would make many happy days for herself after this leaf which was torn from her life. Tom considered her cilmlv, without anger and without tenderness. There came to his lips no words of pity. The woman seated there was an entire stranger to him: The other woman, she whom be had loved, the wife, no longer existed; his love was dead, and it seemed to him he could feel its ashes under his restless fingers. Without a word he went into another room, and returned with a piece of paper — a cheque for £'30— which he handed to her. ' You have need of money,' he said, 'and if you should be in want again, pray let me know.' He took up the lamp and waited for her to rise. As one in a dream, she looked at mm, followed him. At the-door, as he opened it, she comprehended that her dream was ended, that he was sending her away, that she should return to the black street, to her cold, bare lodging, that he was implacable. Her eyes implored him . Tom opened the door as if he did not see her. When she was in the vestibule he held his lamp aloft, flooding her with light, as when she entered, and repeated in a calm voice that seemed to have a casual gentleness in it: ' ' When you are in need, pray let , me know.' ... And the door was closed upon her." In the silence he heard her tottering steps descend the stairs.