MRS VANDERDYKE'S REVENGE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 6362, 17 December 1898, Page 1

MRS VANDERDYKE'S REVENGE.

(By ABTHUR HASTINGS.) [All Rights Reserved.] The news rapidly spread through Shinglebeach that the large house at the western end of the Marine Terrace was let on a long lease. It had been empty for two years ; and the owner, Mr Harry Smith, had long since regretted having sunk so much capital in purchasing it. But at last it was let at a good rent, on a long lease, to a rich widow from New York. In due tune, Mrs Vanderdyke made her appearance, and became the subject of a very lively criticism. The resident "society " of a fashionable watering-place is comparatively small and very select. They — the Jews — have no dealings with the "lodgers" — the Samaritans. Mrs Vanderdyke, by taking her hoivse on a long lease, had challenged the recognition of the resident "society" of Shinglebeach, who determined that she would run the gauntlet of their scrutiny and inquiry before sho was " recognised." Why did she, a lone widow, hire so large a house? Did she mean her house to be an advertisement of her wealth? Did she expect to lead the " society " of the place because her house was big enough for an hotel? Who was she? Where did she spring from? We must protect ourselves from a woman whose only claim to recognition may be her money. Mrs Vanderdyke, who was fifty, and as full of experience and shrewdness as of years, knew or surmised what was said and thought about her, and enjoyed the contemplation of it. She could bide her time. In talking to her landlord and her furnisher she let drop such hints about herself as would whet curiosity without satisfying it, and patiently waited the result. She was not dull. It was not long before curiosity got the better of prudence. When it had become known that the hottee was clear of furnishers, and when Mrs Vanderdyke had for more than a week driven daily up and down the esplanr ade, cards began to droip in upon her. " Society " had consented to make a trial of her : they could drop her afterwards if they thought fit. Mrs Vanderdyke was no novice. She knew the world — far better than her critics did. Her first call was very judiciously made upon the lady who had the reputation of consider- ! ing herself the leader of the local elite. This lady had decided that it was dangerous to her preatige to leave the best house in the town outside of her " set. " The house in the Marine Terrace might head a rival faction. ' j From this . lady Mrs Vanderdyke easily j learnt whom it was advisable to call upon next. And so she went on, returning in the order of social position the calls that were made upon her. Before the winter set in, Mrs Vanderdyke was the pet of the place, and yet no one knew who she was ! She was enjoying her revenge. That the reader may fully understand that revenge, we must go back more than thirty years, to the time when the social leadership of Shinglebeach was virtually in the hands of three families — the Samsons, the •Smiths, and the ; but the greatest of these were the Samsons. A local wit of •those days, speaking at a. public dinner at which ail the three S's had been toasted, won uproarious applause by perorating in verse : — Who watch o'er our pulpit and press? Our friends the three S's of S. Who public abuses suppress? The three dauntless S's of S. To whom does our town owe success? The three clever S's of S. Who the suffering with sympathy bless? The three Misses S's of S. Who are the queens of our social noblesse? The three Lady S's of S. Our allegiance we gladly confer To the rule of the S's of S. May their shadows never grow less, Our three noble S's of S. The Radical paper profanely parodied this doggerel, but at the dinner it pa&sed muster, with the wine and the cigars, and the other speeches. The time came, however when society recognised only two S's. Fortune, like another Delilah, betrayed the Samsons, and the weaker side of human nature showed itself in the Smiths and the Steeles who had been a little jealous of the superiority of the Samsons. With the loss of wealth came social insignificance, then social oblivion. The Samsons went from a large house to a small one ; from the small house to an obscure cottage. Mrs Samson was killed by the chill blast of adversity. Samson 'lingered a little longer, and then he died. His only child, Lottie, a pretty and accomplished maiden of eighteen, found herself a friendless orphan with nothing in her possession, after .her father's debts were paid, but the proceeds of the sale of the cottage. This small purse Lottie took with her to London. She was glad to escape from Shinglebeach. She loved the place, but she hated the people. Some of her father's old acquaintances would bow to her in a cruelly patronising manner, others ignored her altogether. Young Harry Smith and her old companion, Bella Steele, cut her dead. With girlish impulsiveness, she hated them all. She felt that her poverty had | not made her less fit to be their friend, and though she neither could nor desired to join them in society, they might privately have been as cordial as they used to be. The only person from whom she parted with any regret was the woman who had been first her nurse and then her maid. Betsy — who had married a boatman when the Samsons broke up their establishment — was with Lottie when her father died, and helped her in the preparations for her departure. "God bless you, Miss!" said Betsy, as the tirain carried away her young mistress. Lottie took her little money and her embittered heart to London, where she was fortunate enough to secure a situation as travelling companion to a family of ladies who intended spending a year or two upon the Continent. When she left this family, she, without returning to England, entered another family. A succession of similar engagements followed ; and then she went, with an English family, to the Cape. Thence she found her way to New York, and there she married a prosperous man of business, of a good New York family. Two children died in infancy, and, at the age of forty-nine, Mrs Vanderdyke found herself a rich but childless widow. During all these years Lottie had remembered her early life in Shinglebeach with regretful yearning. She loved the old place, with its hills and glens, its shingly, sandy beach, its sea, so placid in summer, so grandly rough in winter. And with this undying love of the place, there mingled an abiding feeling of resentment at the treatment her parents and herself had received at the hands of its inhabitants. How she would enjoy being revenged upon those petty provincial worshippers of wealth ! To go back some day, when they had forgotten her and would not recognise the poor girl of eighteen in the rich and accomplished matron — the very thought of it thrilled her with a malicious joy. Now she was a rich widow, free to go whither she would. Thirty-two years had obliterated all likeness to the Lottie Samson of old. Even her companions of her own age would not know her now. Her many wanderings had certainly made it impossible for the people of Shinglebeach to track her, and if she returned to her old home she would be received as a stranger. Her wealth and her experience and tact — she knew her social powers — would place her high in the local society ; and as her old despisers were smiling upon her, perhaps toadying to her, she herself would all the while know who

they were and how much their homage was worth. It was a delicious idea ! And there was no very blaniable amount of malice in her plan, after all. She had outlived the first bitterness of heart, and had learnt to smile at social insincerity now it could do her no harm. The tragic element in her desire for revenge had given place to a comic one. It would be a piquant comedy for her to play, much of the zest being de-^ rived from the fact that she herself would be the only one who would understand the comedy. Ifoen it would restore to her the dear old scenes, and she could secretly weep at the graves of her parents, and live over again in fancy the old happy life. Truly, ib M-as a delicious idea! She took her house through an agent, without going to see it. It had been built since she left the town, bust she knew- its-sitnation and did not wish itt elsewhere. Two-or three days were spent at the principal hotel, while she was luring her servants and superintending the final arrangements in the house. Her butler and foofcman she engaged in London, the other servantis she hired on the spot, taking care to engage no one who had been born while she lived at Shinglebeach. As Boon as she had command pf-a victoria and a coachman she drove about the place, for the purpose of inspecting it. In her first drive, which was naturally past what had been her father's house, she discovered that that house was now tenanted by her landlord, who was still a bachelor, and whose sister, her old companion Sybil, now a widow like herseii, kept house for him. She found no traces of the Steeles. The old people were dead, and if Bella was still alive she would be boaring a husband'skname. But Lottie did no(b dare to enquire what had become of her. Driving past the Esplanade sue caught sight of a boat with the. nama " Betsy " on it, and the owner's name, " Job Cogger." Gogger was her old nurse's hus-> band. Other discoveries' she made from day ix; day. The first lady upon whom she called, the 'leading lady" upon the Shinglebeach society stage, Mrs Laniels, was none othei than the quondam Bella Steele. Lottie drove home chuckling— it was all better than a play ! Mrs Vanderdyke played her role with spirit. She meant to be popular, and knew how to avoid vulgarity. None of the women oJ Shinglebeach had had such, a, schooling in society manners as Sue. She drove to the Infirmary and gave a handsome subscription, secured a conspicuous pew at church, dis. covered the secretary of the Philharmonic Society, and bought tickets for a year, and entered her name at the principal subscript tion library. A hint to the landlord— the Harry Smith who, wnen a lad,Jhad first spooned with her and then cut her— a hint that she was willing liberally to support the local charities, brought her a number of visits from a nondescript series of parsons and benevolent old ladies. Some of these she had known in hei younger days. She extracted a little amusement out of several. One came begging fot foreign missions. "No," said Mrs Vanderdyke. "I draw the hne at missions. I. have met with Zulus whom any woman might fall in love with." As the fair canvasser left the house, thafj lady muttered to herself, "The horrid creature !" Another came begging for funds to convert the Catholics'; and she had a friend with her who pleaded for the conversion of the Jews. " sa *& Vanderdyke, watching her visitors' countenances as she spoke. "I have often entertained both Jews and Catholics ; and most estimable people I have found them to be." She told all who came on such errands that she confined her regular subscriptions to local instutions; to other objects she gave at collections. Thus she won the sympathies of all sections of society, while at the same time she established a reputation for naive individuality. She gave freely, but not indiscriminately. There was no narrowness in her principles, but she sometimes refused to give, and did it with a racy decisiveness. She knew that her speeches about the Zulus and the Jews and the Catholics, though they might jar upon the ears of a few, would rather increase than diminish her vogue in the place. They would set people talking about her. and would increase society's curiosity to know her. "What a singular character!" "She seems to have been everywhere !" " I can' 6 quite understand her." "Yet she goes degularly to church, and is yen' benevolent !" And so on. Lottie pictured these drawingroom gossips to herself as she sat looking from her window over the dear old sea, and thinking of the dear old times'. Mrs Vanderdyke almost betrayed herself one day in the early weeks of her return. She saw old Cogerer on the Esplanade, mid mude inquiries of him about his boats. She promised to hire boats of him when she wanted any. Then she inquired what family he had ; and easily led him to 'tell her that his wife was well and still able to go out and do a little nursing occasionally among the ladies who had known her long. Hi 3 son did most of the work among the boats now; and his daughter, a younger Betsy, was just now home from a situation where mistress had died. He lived yonder in that cottage at the foot of the cliff. That afternoon Lottie drove to Betsy's cottage, and asked her old nurse if her daughter wanted a situation, as she (Lottie) wanted a maid. The old woman started when she first heard Lottie's voice ; but fortunately j did not detect her former charge in the j visitor. But Lottie took Betsy the younger as her own particular maid ; and became a. frequent visitor at the cottage. She loved to set the old woman clmtting about her youth, and heard many things which Betsy would not have told so freely to one who was not a, stranger. Oh, the fun of it all! And the pathos! Lottie -was beginning to lose her feeling of resentment, and she even felt amiable towards Bella Laniels and Harry Smith. But if they found her out! *** ■ * « There was one thing, however, which Mra Vanderdyke found it difficult to forgive— Shinglebeach's facile forgetfulness of her father. Many of the principal features in the town liad been due to his initiation, his energy, and in a great degree to his wealth. But as he had died in obscurity, while the Smiths and the Steeles had continued to prosper, his share, the principal one, in developing the place had been forgotten. The Smiths and the Steeles, and others who performed the easy task of carrying on what Samson had begun, got the credit. In the chief church of the place there were two conspicuous marble medallions recounting the public services of the late Harry Smith and the late Mark iSteele. These medallions had been put up at the public cost ; but there was no stone to the memory of tli© late Abel Samson. Though Lottie could smile at the thought of Sliinglebeach's treatment ofTierself, she avus jealous of i.«be renown of her father. When the good people went to chinch on Christmas Day, they saw a third medallion on the Avail. This medallion occupied the space between the other two, which, in general features, it resembled. But, after re* counting the public services of the late Abel Samson, it informed the readers that " This tablet is placed here by Charlotte, the only child of the above." If there was no weeping there was gnashing of teeth in Shinglebeach over this monument. Harry Smith felt that it was a slap in hi 3 face ; Bella Daniels said it was an expression of a woman's spite. Other inhabitants felt ashamed of themselves. There "were still living many who remembered Abel Samson, and these wondered how they could have allowed his eminent

cervices to remain so long unrecognised. Abel ! Samson was at once thy topic of the place. Some recollected his zeul in the (promotion of this improvement ; some_ tallied of his initiation of that successful public scheme ; some recalled the fact that the handsome Infirmary building owed much to his zeal, his taste, and his (pocket ; and others spoke of him as having been for many years the inspiring genius of Shinglebeach. It was like a resurrection from the dead. And all these years his memory had been allowed to slumber; while the Smiths and the Steeles allowed themselves to be credited with his share of honour as veil as their owii. ; "It's a shame," said the younger people, who had not known Samson, '" that it should Lave been left to his daughter to save her rfather from being forgotten." • Harry Smith and Sybil Brown, his sister, Bella Laniels, and a dozen or two more, who belonged to the past days: eagerly discussed the daughter. Where had she been all these years? Where was she now? Why had she never re-visited Shinglebeach? Why had she not set up a monument sooner? And now that she had done it. was it because she was only now -in possession of means to do it. or did she mean it as a rebuke to the ungrateful people of Shinglebeach? 1%0 explanation wcs forthcoming. The work Lad been executed bva London house, •under the instructions .of a lady who paid in advance and gave no address, but who had certainly seen the tablet in its place, as she had communicated to the sculptor her complete approval of his work. Both of the local newspapers discussed the mystery, and both admitted that whatever might have been the daughter's intentions, the fact that it was left to her to commemorate so useful a public benefactor was a disgrace to the tcwn. ■ - ■ Mrs Vanderdyke -was more than 'satisfied with the result of her experiment. She henrd the subject discussed whei'ever "went. Naturally, she never joined other, than as a listener in these discussions. . "You are a stranger, Mrs Vanderdyke,'' said her acquaintances, when they were talking the matter over in her presence, "but the subject interests us vastly." " Human nature is much the same all over tie world," answered Mrs Vanderdyke. Harry Smith was close by, and felt strongly this remark. It was not pleasant to feel that he, the hereditary light of Shinglebeach, did not rise above ordinary " human nature." "I admit, Mrs Vanderdyke." he said, " that we have been very guilty. I can't think, how we could -have been so ungrateful." „ . ' . " Well. MnSmitli," replied Lottie, " we all confess that we are miserable sinners every time we go to church, and to be consistent we must live up to our profession." — '"Down to it, you mean, Mrs Vanderdyke," said the contrite Harry, whose guilt in the matter, was necessarily muchiless. than his father's. Mrs Vanderdyke was glad when the discussion waned. She was beginning to like her neighbours. They were not worse than " society " elsewhere, and some*of them were •better than the average. She- grew fond of Sybil Brown, and she became; pleasantly intimate with Bella Laniels after that lady had forgotten to be jealous. Harry Smith was so great* an improvement upon his late father that she forgave him his youthful pride, and liked to remind herself of the marked attention^ he paid her in the days of her father's prosperity. They .Lad then been but boy and girl — but be was a handsome boy, and. now he was a handsome man. . There was life enough in Shinglebeach to satisfy Lotties who, though still restlessly active, had lived long enough to take her pleasure quietly. Her house became a; social focus, where burning questions were .discussed and benevolent and artistic undertakings arranged. If any literary or other '*' lions " happened to be staying at Shinglebeach they were to be met in her drawingrooms. Those who possessed or affected to possess culture talked about Mrs Vanderayke's salon. ' "-Lottie was comprehensive in her tastes and sympathies, and men and women of all parties and opinions were welcome. Thus she brought different " sets " together, and parson and play-actor were often found hobnobbing together in her rooms. Now and then she helped blushing young lovers. Sybil's daughter and Bella's son never knew how much they owed to Lottie in bringing about their engagement. •*•. • ■ • Lottie was satisfied with her revenge, and put all thoughts of it out of her mind. There was only one thing needed to complete it — the avowal of her identity. But that she now resolved to postpone until her death, -when with the avowal she would make a handsome bequest to her native town. Events, however, are not under our own control. A sense of solitude sometimes- oppressed the busy and .happy Mrs Vanderdyke. After all, she" was painfully isolated. There might be amusing comedy in living thus incognita among her own people, but it was monotonous and-unsatisfying. Yefc-the only way of changing her life would be. by marrying. At first she laughed at the idea — at her age! Similar ideas struck another inhabitant of Shinglebeach. Mrs Vanderdyke, thought Harry, " the miserable sinner," must sometimes feel lonely. Her vesry activity, the zest with which she engaged in social functions, seemed to him to suggest a longing to escape from herself. From this reflection it was but<a step to another — he, too, often felt lonely. It would be absurd for him, a bachelor in his fifties, to tie himself up to some gay ycung wife whose exuberant vitality would but distress him. A woman like Mrs" Vanderdyke, however, about his own age, r mature but active, intelligent, accomplished!, who never made, herself appear to be in the way, who .was equal to all occasions — why had ha. not thought-of it before? There was a fund of; unexhausted energy, of undeveloped power in Harry Smith. His position had been made for him., and he took it lazily. Instead of being fully exercised and sharpened, his --abilities had lain to a great extent dormant* There had been no overpowering romance in his life — an occasional flirtation had trailed to do more than temporarily ruffle r-the surface of his nature. But now — on the principle that " there is no fool like the old fool" — the fountains of the great deep were -broken up. This mature man of fifty-five, with a sprinkling of grey in his:hair, and-a patch on his crown as big as a florin • showing bare, was in love. Fortunately it was with a woman neartyhis -eaual in^age. With his heart throbbing like that of a schoolboy, he entered Mrs Vanderdyke's drawing-room when that lady was alone and not«xpecting,him. He pleaded some trifling errand as -an excuse for his call, yet he still sat in the* easy chair when that errand was disposed of. " Why- doesn't thevman go?" thought Lottie. " . "If. was a happy thought that led you to settle at Shinglebeach, Mrs Vanderdyke," said he, apropos of that sha could discover. She hesitated, not quite knowing what to say. "He little suspects wha,t that happy thought was," she reflected. "I mean," continued he, "for us it was a most fortunate thing." He remembered that she- had relieved him of the burden 01 an unlet-abte mansion ; perhaps she would remember it also. He> was blundering sadly. " I have been very happy here, Mr Smith," she said, leaning back in her chair and gazing out of the window,,;. "Hagpier than I could have been elsewhere." " That's good," thought he. Then aloud, " But you must,.after all, feel lonely at times. I do." ■ What an ass he was making of himself! But in. spite of the grey tinge in his hair andhis-evident confusion, his fine figure and, pleasant features and glowing cheeks and a pair of good eyes now all aflame with' feeling saved him from looking ridiculous, Lottie looked at him in astonishment. The man was in earnest, and there- could be no j question as to what he was in earnest about. "Am I to understand, Mr Smith " "Mrs Vanderdyke — Charlotte " ■ "Stop, Harry," cried Lottie. . " You call me Harry !" He rose. " Stop. I have often called you Harry before. Before this scene goes any further, (here must be an explanation. Was there

• never a time when a girl whom you calied ! Lottie was accustomed to call you Harry':" Smith stood still, put his hand to his forehead, and fixedly at Mrs Vandtrdyke. "It can't be !" he exclaimed. " Lottie Samson !" '" Yes, Lottie Samson. There was a time, Harry, wnen you were wont to single me out from the Vest of the girls. My com-, panions used to tease me and tell me that Harry Smith was in love with me. But when we became poor, Harry Smith's attentions to Lottie Samson ceased." " I was a fool, Lottie." "For what? For paying me -attention or for cutting me when I was in misfortune: " You are cruel, Lottie. That was so long ago. I was young and vain and selfish. Is a man of fifty-five responsible for what he did at twenty?" , . "Perhaps not. But the lad of twenty hurt "me very muck However, I have long got over that hurt. Still, I have had my revenge. To have my revenge was the 'happy thought' that brought me here to settle." v Lottie, what you tell me bewilders me. .1 am not master of myself." " Then let us close this scene, Mr Smith, and forget it." " Not forget it ! It was a happy thought : that brought you here. You have had a. most magnanimous revenge, Lottie. Complete it by " , ' "No more to-day. lam not master of my self any more than you are. Leave me at present. Neither of us will run away." Next day Shinglebeach was startled by the news that the Mayor had received a letter from Mrs Vanderdyke, offering to purchase and endow for the use of the town as a public park certain fields, on condition that the site be called the " Samson Park," in .memory of the doncr's father. It would be difficult to say which was the greater, the gratitude or the surprise of the people. In the' course of the afternoon the Mayor and half a dozen of the leading inhabitants made a formal and official call upon Mrs Vanderdyke, "and said 'as. well t as they could the things that had to be' said on the occasion. Smith was one of the deputation, but did nottrust himself to use any other language than that of the eyes. "I thought you would have helped me, Mr Smith," said the Mayor afterwards. But Smith thought the Mayor had not needed his help. Thar- evening Smith was summoned to call upon Mrs Vanderdyke upon a matter of business. She would receive him after dinner. "You see," she said, when lie entered, " what you have made me do. I have completed my revenge. And now I had better return to New .York." He started. " Never, . Lottie, unless Igo with you !" '■ I "can go by myself. I came by myself. I am used to travelling 'alone." " Lottie, have you not humbled me enough?" "Perhaps l have, Harry." She sank into her chair > and wept. She was at rest now. "Now, said he, as he-- went up to her, "now your revenge is complete."