THE SPIDER.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6362, 17 December 1898, Page 2

THE SPIDER.

AN AUSTRALIAN T-HGEDY. (By MRS B. M. CROKER.) Author of '• Pretty Miss Neville," " Diana Biirrington," "Beyond tie Pale," etc. [All Rights Reserved.] She sat in a long, bace, whitewashed verandah, on a folding carpet chair, with both hands limply crossed over a half-darned sock,- gazing out with' a dreamy, stare upon the awkward blue-gum, trees, and the brown burnt-up grass, which sunounded. her Australian home. The only living creature within view was a little shrunken Chinaman, clad in roomy, blue cotton trousers, who was throwing his whole heart and soul into the cultivation o£ a plot of somewhat faded cabbages. — . -.;. ■ i ■ i oMaiinie Grimsha.w, the wife of his employer, was a' pretty woman of about, thirty-, slight to a fault — : in fact her detractors called her skinny-?— with a pair of _ magnetic . eyes., an impertinent nose, and a full-lipped mouth. The: outlines : of .- her jface tvere -sharpened, and her colour, like that of the cabbages^ a little faded; but her luxuriant auburn hair was carefully dressed, her cambric gown fitted her neat figure with exactitude and even elegance ; her shoes were distinctly.attractive. • Altogether Mrs Grimshaw presented an unusually smart appearance for the wife of a squatter, w.ho lived at least four hundred miles from the regiont of shops. The down cushion at her back, and the footstool beneath her pretty feet, hinted, at an appreciation of such small comforts as were within her reach. Bernard Grimshaw, her husband, could afford her — and he would — not merely comforts, but. luxuries. He was the wealthiest man in the township — in all the Linga Longa district — he counted his flocks and herds by tens of thousands like the patriarchs of old. It was,, moreover, whispered that- he also" counted his thousands, and tens of thousands, in the Melbourne bank ; and from this rumour he dTew no small advantage. ; Nevertheless, the "face of this rich man's ■wife, -as/she gazed' otit-upon the palpitating haze; and the industrio"us~OelestialV : wore*a lock of "hopeless boredom and invincible discontent. - It is not good far a young woman — nor for a* young woman's- hoiiseHbld-^-whea "sueh "an expression settles upon her- countenance.- Five years" on an up^-cbunt'ry station, with its drought and its floods, its long stretches of deadly monotony, ita pitiless exposure of the raw edge of existence, of the common, coarse side of- life, had told severely upon Maiinie's nerves, temper and character. She bitterly regretted that she had ever married burly Bernard Grimshaw, and thus thrown away her youth and her opportunities in order to bury herself alive in the weird and lonesome Australian bush. Why had she ever married Bernard? Why had she ever come to Linga Longa? Why hacl she made such a mess of her life? ■ ■ To this the plain and truthful answer was, the lack of what she would have considered tne opportunity to do better. She had believed Bernard's offer to be the tide' in her affairs which, when taken at the flood, leads on to' fortune, inst-eau of which she had been figuratively washed up upon a barren coast a miserable castaway. Bernard Grimshaw was a colonial by birth — a tall, powerfully-framed, hard-headed, hard-featured man ; "frugal, ambitious, and fortunate. His first wife, whom he had married when he was but twenty, was a contrast to Maimie in every respect— a plain, wiry, weather-beaten person, but an ideal helpmate for a hard-working squatter who was resolved to push his way. Her faithful heart, quick eye and busy hand contributed in a large measure to her husband's success, and tbi9 amassing of those flocks and herds and heavy remittances to Melbourne, and she received her due reward in. a. neat white tombstone, imported at great, and what she would have considered sinful, expense, inscribed " To the memory of Bessie, the dearly beloved wife of B. Grimshaw. Nevertheless, she was not-his--dearly-be-loved wife. , Bernard was accustomed to her, he tolerated her, he had accepted her devor tion as a mere. matter of course, and was secretly and disagreeably .surprised to/ discover how much, he missed her! His meals were squalid, his shirts were ragged, his store bills-encrmous ; there was- only one thing to be done — he must marry again- He looked about cautiously among the daughters of his acquaintance; but soon he gathered from hints and chaff dropped by mankind, that the post of Mre Grimshaw number two was not greatly coveted in the vicinity ; so presently he sailed away to England on three errands — one was to see ifche Old Country, another to arrange some money affairs connected" with a small legacy, and a third was to procure a wile. . Mr Grimshaw's business man carried out his affairs to his entire satisfaction. In dis* cussing, over a little dinner, death duties, interests, and investments, Grimshaw had dropped a word that had set his acute companion, thinking. Here, to his certain knowledge, was a wealthy, middle-aged colonial, literally going a-begging as a husband ! His niece, Maimie Perry, was five-and-twenty, extremely pretty, with taking manners, and not a penny piece. She was buried in a little village where she would undoubtedly live and die "an old maid." Her mother was a chemist s widow, with a small annuity and Larga but fruitless ambitions. An introduction was cleverly effected, .apparently by chance; Mrs and Miss Perry' happened to come up to town for a little shopping, and to see the Academy. . The stolid, middle-aged widower was immediately attracted by the younger lady, a quiet but deadly flirt", who knew how to make the most of her pretty face and her pretty figure. The courtship was prosecuted at" theatres, on the Tiver, in the park, ■ -where Maimie Perry earned her big. hat and feathers as bravely as the best. The wedding was not long deferred. Bernard Grimshaw was accompanied to Melbourne by a young and charming wife, .and she was accompanied by a new" and' b^piful'. outfit. • - , -- ,-• These wereindeed halcyon days! Bernard was deeplyr blindly in love, and extremely proud of his bride, tie belie of the ship — an Orient liner. '.vHow astonished his neighbours at Linga Longa would be! Mrs "Grimsbaw, on her part, was supremely happy. She enjoyed her new position, her new friends, her new frocks ; she liked her big, black-bearded husband, who idolised her, and whom she could twist round her fingers. She revelled in the prospect of her future home, scores of horses, thousands of cattle, thousands of acres. But alas ! Once Bernard's foot was on his native soil, what- a change was here!" He instantly became an eager, active, busy "man, fervently anxious to make up for months of idleness.' He merely remained in Melbourne long enough to visit bis banker and to purchase . groceries, saddlery, crockery, and a few chairs and tables, and then started for home. When the bride (-whose hopes had .-been sinking with every mile) first caught sight of Linga Longa,. an ugly low house, situated between a water-hole and a cabbage garden, she burst into a storm of hysterical tears. This was five years- ago, and since then, though first impressions had not ueen modir fied, she : had endeavoured to, adapt herself to circumstances. Life was- hatefully monotonous ; nevertheless, it had some alleviations, . and although Bernard had curtly refused to take her' to Melbourne,' yet he never spared money ft*, her clothes,* and little luxuries. He kept two domestic servants; subscribed to papers, escorted her to local gatherings In his new buggy — there was no church within a hundred miles. To this fact, though she made it one of her grievances, Maimie waß supremely indifferent ; but sbs had her distractions^— a visit to the Porters or the Russells, a trip to Warra-Barra and an everinteresting series of flirtations. These latter were her chief amusement, and a very excite ing entertainment they occasionally proved to be. Maimie Grimshaw reigned as acknowledged queen of the Linga Longa district, and received homage as such. Her husband meanwhile contemplated her conquests, precisely as an indulgent parent might view the vagaries of a spoilt child. If- he iad been stolidly indifferent, to Bessie, he was notoriously; besotted with regard to her successor.- -The -queen could do no wrong— long live ths. queen !. If she went a little too far, and strained the loyalty^ of some subjects, a pleading look, or a caress, induced the If ing consort to see the whole affair from her point of view. -? ~ ■ As time wore on, the number ©I Hit*

GrimshaVs victims increased, and her reputation went far. People whispered, mutt&red, finally talked boldly of young Strover, who > ,bad been her guest and shadow, -and had been replaced by Dr,Blane ; and how young Dawson had "gone" to Tasmania — and the devil ! and how Freddy Blake had been mad about her — bright,' popular, happy Freddy j • — and how miserable and drawn and haggard his merry face had become ere he departed and '-was' no more seen. These were stock hands in the township. After Lumley had been found drowned in a water-hole, with his hands tied in his handkerchief, the rather scattered community began to be a little shy of Mrs Grimshaw's arch eyes, low voice, and sympathetic smile. She was endowed witn the sobriquet of " the Spider," but, alas, at the present moment she -was out of humour— her web only conjtained dead flies. - . Think of a pretty, idle, empty-headed woman, with a busy husband, fifteen years her senior, no children, no . resources, no near neighbours, and no special tastes save for experimenting on the affections of defenceJess mankind I *- • - When a man took to grooming bis. horse, wearing a white shirt, and riding over to i/inga' "Longa/ with a paper or magazine, his friends . looked on, and sincerely pitied lim;" they ; knew .what his. faie-:wbuld be: Hewonld be a woman's loverior a fewweefcs, and a woman-hater for many years. Maimie Grimshaw's hour might be slaw, to arrive, but once she took possession her empire was singularly complete. She was naturally of a hard and a cold natur^, and she had never really cared for. one of her unhappy slaves ; she smilingly received all and gave nothing. She considered .that they ware more or less honoured by being, sacrificed at her shrine, in order to afford her an amusing interlude in her otherwise dull and. trivial existence. The Spider knew neither pity, nor remorse, she accepted their stammering confidences. ! their adoration, and when she was weary of them, turned ruthlessly away: . But already Nemesis had begun to pace j towards her with hastening steps. . Latterly there had been a notable falling off in the j matter of visitors with glossy shirt fronts and glossy steeds. Mrs Grimshaw was meditating upon this fact, and how but two j men had assembled round her when she had recently attended a local race meeting, i and two men .wha had . recovered.- As she meditated, .she lopksd. q_uite pinched Mid ■worn and sallow- : -T4)y no means the " Lily \ of Linga Longa." • Oh*, if • Bernard-, would \ only, sell off this hateful pjace and take her j home^she was so sick. of this, life : and she ] suddenly jumped up and Hegan to pace the i verandah in . a state of impatience, almost i bordering on frenzy. The clatter of horses' hoofs roused her from her thoughts. She looked over and descried Bernard riding up, accompanied by two ! guests. One, an elderly, dried-up, looking individual, with a keen hatchet face, .halfconceafed by a grey hat, the other much younger, "and the handsomest man she had ever beheld. He was riding a smart-lcoking nag, his feet were out of the stirrups, -his.- grey sombrero, was tilted «over his face. Yes, Walter Talbot was strikingly good-looking ; a wellborn, well-bred man of six-and-twenty. whose life so far had been a failure. He was the second son of Sir John Talbct, of the Dene, who had more acres than money. He had failed for the arnrri and at theage of twenty-six was still seeking his fortune, and so far Fortune, far from meeting him half-way, had kept steadily out of hia sight. He was merely a. helper on a run some way north of Linga Longa, and received £1 a week and board, in return for hard work and the best'of his days ; he and his employer had been down to Melbourne with a drove of horses for the Indian market, and were now en ronte home. . "It's too late to" make Crosskeys to-night," said Macnab : "we will just stop at Bern. Griinshaw's. and make an early start, and by good luck, here he is himself. Hullo, Grimshaw, how are you? We have coir.c to ask for a shakedown and a bit of supper. ' "And welcome," said Grimshaw, heartily. "I don't think you know Mr Talbot?" " No !" nodding. "He has never been this way. before."' * • " He is rather a stick-at-home, and never rambles far." " I don't know what you call Melbourne," sJiid Talbot with a laugh. '. "Oh, well: that was business. ; Did you do'^ gGod : tr"aS3,MacT I: ' rv - •' ' : • i %i Pretty fair ; avTage'twenty- a head." ' "Aye, and they will be sold at Waller's for five hundred rupees. Maimie," to his wife, who had halted, and stood expectantly on the steps of the verandah. " here is Mr Macnab and his friend Mr Talbot come to put lip. I hope you have something in the larder." • Maimie nodded and bowed. She eagerly !>crutinised tho stranger ss he doffed his big hat, and as she did 'so shs changed colour. Fhe instantly recognised him as the son of the Squire at home. Truly the world was a little place. She had seen young Talb&t &t church, at the flower fete, riding along through the roads and the Tillage. She knew him well by sight ; he had merely changed from a handsome stripling to a handsome man ; but she made no remark, and hurried indoors to prepare for company and to change her gown, whilst the three men rode round to .the stockyard to put up their horses. The dinner and the hostess were an agreeable surprise to Walter Talbot. The table was prettily decorated, the mutton proved tender, and the lady of the house looked charming in a soft white gown. Afterwards, when they all adjourned outBide, the elder couple subsided into, two armchairs, and the engrossing subject of wool Bales and the frozen meat tr?»de, whiht Talbot and Mrs Grimshaw. paced up and down a well-trodden path that lay between the house. and the water^hple. "' <' " Do you know that your face seems quite familiar to me, Mr^Grirnshaw?" he remarked, as they paused. and stood vis-avris at the edge of the pond. "Is it possible that we have met before?" Yes, in ji way. ' she answered, colouring visibly. " We, I think, knew one another by Bight, at Mocrfield." My name was Perry." "•Psny!" In "a second, the iremory of a genteel and somewhat pushing wi^w/.vath .a pretty da'.i^htefr camp; brtct \jt.jl himv-and us exclaimed, "TV be s^et HoV.'deii<Thj> fuHro see a f.^e from" hoihe ; it is'like water "in a thirsty TaridT" "" - ■"-■- .-.-■ " It is. indeedj^she.asseTitedwith a si>h. ".. " Have, yoii be^en out long-?".. '. .' .1 .. "° ■ „'" .Fiyeiyeari..'. And you?;'* - ." Eighteen months."-. . . '" And do you like the life?" " No ; between ourselves. I hate it. It is a lonely, mebncholy. hopeless sort of existence—at any rate to me. And this weird Australian bush.daunts me. I can tell you: I have a horrible presentment that it will be my frraye." . ." Oh,, you must not get such ridiculous fancies into your head," she protested, with animation ; " you want a tfood rousing. . Mi Macnab says that you never go off the station ; you should go out hunting and attend Tace meetings and jratherinp-s. and you would coon grow out of such horrible ideas." "I daresay the'-e is something in. what von say, but T -am always busy, from dawn till dark, and on Sundays there are no near neiihbours." "We are ■thirty miles away— that is considered a mere canter out here" but you might £hink it rather .too.,m.uch.. qf.^a -journey," and she gave " film J one~ L "6f li"er'"piost'",'dlstractmg snipes. .. . . ... .„.,,. „ . .. .^. \ "■'_-- .. '. "v[oi. /think^hiindred miles, a jburhey ;.t,o "see a facs from Moorfielrlv" he ' answer:ed, ..with" repressed enwtioiv -."in:, his XOice^.'' ".""■-■'..."..,.".-• _.;., -'...,:;,.- ;•.-. "Then in. -future. I-bcpe you, will spend your Sundays with us. . Bernard will be de--1 jilted to see you. -.too, he likes a change of society ; his jown men are appallingly dull" " I am not very bright, I can assure you," Eaid Talbot ; "it is because I happen to be so hopelessly and densely stupid that I aan out here. I couldn't pass an exam, to save my life." "Well, you don't look stupid, and I don't believe you are," returned Maimie, with another of her most sympathetic smiles.. • " Tyiy governor would tell you another story." be rejoined., and gradually iiioy drifted into mutual memories — they discussed the village, the neighbourhood," aye, the very dogs and horses. It was past tv.clre o'clock by the time their walk and remniscences had come to an cud. The verandah had been empty fci tn hour, Macnab • and Grimshaw had retired irly, after "a glaace'at a distant and linger-

ing couple. Grimshaw was accustomed :o that, picture ; Maimie alwayte liked a new hand — when he was presentable: — and many a wayfarer had paced that same path by her side. ... Cut Macnab was not go complacent — he I did not admire the little scene, lit all. Was j it possible that Talbot, the reserved and Jis.tant, so fastidious about, womankind, had acceipted the Spider's invitation to •" walk int/u her parlour?" ' * * * « * { Yes. Talhot figuratively "walked into her parlour" when every Saturday he galloped over to Linga Longa " ventre a terre " and. returned . at daybreak on Monday, and every succeeding week found the pair' better friends; >It was an unqualified delight to Talbot to talk of his home; to read bits of his letters, and unfold his hopes and fears to this charming and interesting' woman. There was only one subject that he had not yet ventured" to open, and that the one nearest to his heart. He was engaged to Mabel Trevor; his- cousin, a girl 'as "penniless as himself. Somehow he-knew by an-un-erring instinct that Mrs 'Grimshaw would iioi be very -sympathetic about Mabel, though she had enough' to say about ; love in the abstract. '■ - - "What' a boon, and a blessing she" proved to/be ! What" a fortunate day for him -when grumpy old Macnab had brought him to her door ! Mr Macnab threw out many strong hints and warnings, but he spoke to deaf ears; Talbot, like all the other "flies," fiercely resented any interference with his " friendship " — that was what he called it — and as far as he was personally concerned it was strictly placonic. . But, alas! It was otherwise with respect to Maimie Grimshaw. It is said that friendship is never platonic on both sides. Here was her hero at last, long a dream and now a reality. Talbot's handsome face, chivalrous manners, and splendid horsemanship, were sufficiently attractive without the added lustre of his fine old name, ar>d the overwhelming advanatge of being the squire's sou, whereas she was but " out of the village." Moreover, he was. different from her other admirers ; beyond gratitude and respect he never stepped. He wore ber flowers, but lie would not call her Maimie, nor did ho sign himself (as- she did) "yours every-'. All the .week long she looked forward with.a kind of aching anticipation to Saturday and Sunday : everything of the hast was carefully reservedifor those days-, as well as- her prettiest -gowns, her.happiest'smiks.v -■"' '•'■'- • Grimshaw himself liked the young man — Maimi'e's "playmate," as she chose to call him — and the shining hour and week after week flew by. It was Bessie's brother (who secretly detested Bern's second wife) who ultimately applied the slow match which ignited Grnrtshaw's jealousy. For a conslder- ' able time he had surveyed the couple with hail-closed eyes, and in ominoun silence. Then he spoke. ' " I say, Bern, I. wouldn't care about having a handsom?e chap like that young Ta.'bot ! hanging round my wife, if she happened to j be a pretty woman and fifteen years younger . tnan myself." ' ' " ■ '° j j " There's no fear of you. Your Fanny is 1 ugly enough to frighten a horse!" was Ber- i I nard's savage retort. . . ) j "Welt, she is no beauty, I allow ; but she ' ; is.agcod woman,' returned the other, lay- ' . ing preat stress on the adjective good. . . . • " And so is Maimie. Who dares saya word against her? And well able to. take care of • herself." ■ . | •< • " Ua, of herself, yes. She always look's after number one." " i ( " You don't like her— and never did." • • ! ." No, but young- Talbot makes up for my bad taste." And he glanced significantly to where. Talbot was slowly and reverently fanning his uostess. I Grimshaw made no renl- and presently c-unged the subject. It was a hot night, and ( 3 could not sleep, and all the silent dark hours he recalled many little incidents — long ' solitary walks, long games, mutual secrets, mutuul understanarngs ; conversations from ! which ha was entirely' excluded. So many straws ultimately made quite a large stack He resolved to watch them, j lie heard Talbofs horse clatter out of' the stockyard at the first peep of day. Talbot was gone— he would keep his own" counsel, i and wait. • - " . • ■- I- • "Mr Grinifhaw had not long to wait. That very same morning he saw the unconscious Maimie pick up a pair of dogskin gloves which Talbot had forgotten, fold them very neatly, and kiss them very fervently. "Love me, love my gloves, I suppose," he broke in harshly. As he appeared" in the hall-way Maimie start-Ed violently and became scarlet between tear ana astonishment. "Ay. You may well blush. A pretty fool you have made of yourself, and I've been stone „i.nd ' ■ "What do you mean? What nonsense, dear," she began ; but he intsirupted her with a gesture of scorn. "I mean that we will have no more of this foolir.g and humbug. I mean that I will ride over to that young ass and tell him never to show his face hsre again, if he wants to keep a who's skin. I mean that I forbid you to c©3 him, to speak to him, or to write to him." "And if I refuse?" she demanded, bravely. " I'll turn you out into the bush, with no more compunction than if you were a black gin. We Australian squatters may net be very refined, but we are honest men.* Our family life, among us, has always been respected. Here in the bush, one relies on the honour of a man to hold married ties sacred, and the blackguard who makes love to his neighbour's wife deserves to be shot without Fty." . - Burly Bernard was moved at last, his face was congested, his eyes blazed ; he looked dangerous — far too dangerous for Maimie to dare to coax or flatter or beguile. It was- , a truly dark day for the "Spider"; her. web had been discovered and swept ruthlessly away. A messenger was promptly . despatched to Talbot, with a curt note" declining his further acquaintance, and Maimie (having secretly communicated with him) kept her room with a" bad headache. '. ' " Bernard; Gnmshaw proved to be a, stern arid vigilant war3er; v and for one whole year ■. Talbot and his wife never once met. Gradii- •' ;aliy ;the-- episodeU began, to- fade, from his mind ;-< he once ;more. fell under the spell- of bis/Maimie',s blandishments, and though she never-once.uttered the name of Walter Talbot, she playfully accused her husband of " being a dreadfully jealous old monster." This had been a truly miserable year ; even . a trp to Melbourne had afforded no solace . to Mrs Grimshaw, her red letter. days were when she succeeded in secretly posting a ■ long and impassioned effusion, which began, ' " Darling Walter." At Christmas time the Porters gave a , dance, and all the neighbours for miles and t miles flocked to it, those from a great dis- , lance remaining all night, being- accommodated with tents and all kinds of make-shifts, j Among these latter were the Grimshaws and their hands, Mr and Mrs Bell, and Mr 1 Macnab and his contingent, including Walter Talbot. • This was an occasion of great moment to Maimie ; her dress had been under thoughtful consideration for weeks, and it fully justified her pains. Nevertheless, she .was far from being the beauty of the evening; ' -f er 1 fees wa^.pala.andjiaggatdi^ her jeyes 1 /looked sunken. and anxious. - People. $Hiis- : pered that ."tie i. Spider.. was losing- her. .looks.;? _ ... .". " . ' ".".■"... '■". .. She, ; mei. Walter... TAlbot in'the doorway, \ and, so the p;e.at and longed-for;' moment ; had come at.last; cbme" and 1 passed/ .No "outsider was aware of the lnomentousness I . of the encounter— saye . Grimshaw, who watched his wife from afar with sullen and ■■ suspicious eyes. She merely shook ; hands with Talbot and passed by on the arm of David Porter, and Bernard went to make up a whist table with a feeling of intense ! relief. So that was all over and done with ! i He little suspected that hi? artful Maimie s had pushed "a tiny note into Talbot's rather reluctant hand. Talbot deenly mistrusted ; these effusions, as well as the glance of pas- ■ sionate appeal from Maimie's hollow eyes. " Darling, meet me in the end verandah • at one o'clock." was the burthen of the little ■ billet-doux. He stuffed it into his waistcoat pocket, and began to seek out partners. , Walter Talbot looked supremely happy and handsome, a severe contrast to the heroine ■ of Jiis la.tc platnnic friendship, who followed > him with greedy glances as he went round and round, a light-hearted and indefatigable [ partner. However, her hour was coming! The end- verandah was delightfully se-

cluded. It was a portion of the house that had not been utilised for the ball ! here the coffee and soup had been heated," but coffee and soup -were- of the past, and the place -was absolutely deserted— a small kerosene lamp which : stood on the tabla lighted up Mrs Grimshaw' s worn' face. She was first at the rendezvous, raid was soon joined by Talbot— a little breathless from his late exertions. " Oh, isn't it cruel, that we can only meet like this," she exclaimed tragically. " I've lived, I've dra^ced myself through the year for this meeting"!" And she flung her arms round his neck. Mr Bell-, who neither danced nor played cards, and was therefore able to devote much time to the refreshment of the inner man, happened to come to the verandah, a tardy applicant for soup. He stood for a moment a silent, almost paralysed, spectator of this affecting scene. Five minutes later he was at the card table, stooping over Grimshaw (who was playing the ace of sp&des) and whispered :.. '■ . " You come with me this moment, Bern." .. Something .in the-' tone and look spoke volumes.' Grimshaw threw- down his .hand, jumped to his feet, and without one word of apology left the table. . . . . ...-■• ".Say .nothing ".said Bell ;" walk softly— seeing 'is believing!" The two men aporoached the verandah as stealthily as a couple of panthers. The pair were facing one another, and the lamp illuminated their serious faces. Talbot was speaking. " Yes, T a.m going to England ; my eldest brother died some months ago — my father "wants me at home." "You go back to the life, the place I love, and leave me here, Walter?" she cried, wringing her hands, and approaching a step. " You could not be. so cruel? You have had my letters?" " I have received a good many — about twenty. It was a risky thing to write, and " " If I had not -written to you I should have gone out of my mind. Those letters were my only consolation," she burst out. - Talbot looked embarrassed, but made no reply, and she went on, the- tears now streaming down her wan face. . . "Darling, you. know how I love you ; you cannot ..leave me.". - . „ • Little did she. guess, that he.wo-e a shieid that. made him proof .asrainst all her wiles — the armour of his first love — n, girl at homo. For months he ifrad wished mo? t f erven My that he had. never seen Mrs Grimshaw. Her wiidletters and protestations had filled him with a mixture of uneasiness and contempt ; he had never desired her love — only her friendship., " And you really mean that you go by th« next, ma'l?" " Yes ;. my r assage is taken." "And I— -how am I to bear it? Oh! my heart feels as if it was being torn out. Ynu must take me with you." And she flung her arras round his neck, and sobbed on his breast. " Mr Talbot," said a low, fierce voice from the darkness, and Maimie gave a. stiflocT shriek, " I thought I warned you," and t>he voice was. now followed into the light by a fiVure, " to drcjp your acquaintance with my J wife. Now you must take the consequences." • ' * " • * * A circle of seven grave-faced men, four of them being magistrates, collected in Peter Porter's room before daybreak — Peter, his two sons David and Jonathan, Joe Bell, Macnab, Grimshaw and Talbot. Grimshaw was speaking, and between each sentence he drew a. deep breath. "This fellow Talbot came to my houseas a guest. He made love to my wife — j a year age — I warned him off. To-night I = saw him with my wife in his arms. Bell j saw him, too. You know the rule—we fight — the world. can't hold both of -us." " That's a fact," assented Peter Porter. " Now, Talbot, what have you to say?" ■ "That I swear. l am absolutely innocent of what Mr Grimshaw accuses m?.. Mrs j Grimshaw a,nd I enme from the same part I of the ; world, and have many friends and . memories in common. These draw people together when they meet at the Antipodes. ; Mrs Grimshaw was very kind to me, and by ( my sacred word of honour I have never uttered a word, of love to her in my life." "Bah!" broke in Bell, impatiently. "It is true, and to prove it I am engaged to be married to a girl I love better timn all the world. -Does anyone suppose that under these circumstances I would be such a blackguard as to start a wretched ( intrigue with a married woman?" j "Here is her photograph!"- And he . fumbled in his pocket for a locket. Out fell a little viper of a note, which urimshaw pounced upon. " ' Darling, meet me at the end verandah at one o'clock.' Is not that enough?" he cried, looking into the grave faces of his neighbours. "He would try to prove black was white. I find my wife in his .arms! her note in his pocket; 'it's all innocence— all purest friendship. Are we focls?" he raved. "No, we are not fools," echoed Bell, solemnly. " Then it's this : you enme out in the bush a.nd stand up at thirty paces, and you kill me or I kill you. What do you say?" panted Grimshaw, who was almost beside himself. " I say no." said Talbot, steadily, though he had grown rather pale. Evidence was against him— the feeling was against him-; how could ha clear himself at the woman s expense? — the woman who pestered him with hsr love and her letters? No, for the sake of womankind — for the sake of his mother and Mabel — no. "No," he repeated. "I am blameless, though you may not believe me. I don't wish to 'take your life, nor risk my own, which is of value to my father, and mother, and my future wife, as well as myself." " You scoundrel, if you don't stand up like a man you shall bs hounded out of Austral a. You have committed the one unpardonable sin, and broken the laws of hos- • pitality. Also, I shall divorce my wife, and all the papers in England shall ring with your shame ■'."' - " Fight," whispered David Porter ; " it s your only chance." David half believed him, imd wholly ■: pitied- this pale-young .Englishman. ■ • :-. •■■■: ■■:■ At daybreak, a party of seven .set. out for a lonely spot about three miles from the station.- ..But.six ro.turned. They left Walter Talbot .lying in the scrub face downwards ■with a bullet in his breast. It had all bseh carried .out with due respect to' the obsolete rules of duelling. The six conspirators rode home, and went to bed. At breakfast time Talbot was missing. His absence created no surprise, but at twelve o'clock a black boy brought in news, that a dead man lay in the bush. A search party set out at once and brought back with them the body of Walter Taibot, who had evidently destroyed himself, but why? Last night barely twelve hours ago, who so happy, so full of hope and vitality, raid the " joio de vivre" as Walter Talbot ? A formal inquest was held on the remains ; there was no difficulty in pronouncing it a case cf death from suicide. Even this 1 was hidden from Talbot's people at home, who had been led to suppose that he died of sunstroke. Nor did they dream that lie died- to save the i!«;aie of a notoriously worthless woman — a woman who guessed the truth-—* woman who did not long survive him," and who, on her deathbed,' confessed that her. infatuation for poor Walter had led to. his. untimely fatej and that he, the innocent, .bad-suffered for the guilty. Maimie lies beside the first Mrs Grimshaw, but no .headstone ma-rks, the ■• spot where she is buried. • . :..*.' ■.-.'.••:■-•• • :.-•■•■ ; -As for Bernard Grimshaw, he has - sold all interest in Linga Longu, ..and become a . taciturn ■ wanderer upon the face of the globe. Sir John Talbot has no male heir. He and a pretty, sad-faced girl occupy the great family pew, above which has been recently erected a white marble monument to " the memory of Walter Taibot, late, of this parish." Ths man deplor.es a son, the girl a lover, who lies far away in a rude grave in the desolate Australian bush. Little do they suppose that they owe this mutual and irreparable loss to a certain Mrs Bernard Grimshaw — otherwise "the Spider." Mr Alfred Nobel, the late dynamite king, left a sum equal to £400,000 to be presented " to the person who should have done the most and the best for the accomplishment of vniversai. peace." The executors, it is stated frum Berlin, have decided that the legacy shall go to the Czar of Russia as a reward of merit for the message to. European Governments of August 26.. •' -• „.-.- . j