TALES AND SKETCHES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7293, 4 January 1902, Page 2

TALES AND SKETCHES.

A VICTIM. (By 'MABEL QUILLER COUCH.) [Aiai Rights Reserved.] "Men isn't no great shakes in. my opinion; I never found any man yet as was worth his salt. What do you say, Paulina?" Paulina hesitated a little, and looked doubtfully at a .portrait of 'her friend's husband, " W«U> y°U see > Ma-rify. I don't know as I can give an opinion; never had a- man of my own, like, same as you have. : I suppose, though," ■with a, glance and giggfc intended to be facetious, "he was different tli any «tbeu man," Maria snorted, " Diff rent ! I never seed no. &ffr«n£e,' Jfujffr prd/nary, A do-little-gQgd-rdQrlifcUeTevil, {Jpd^send-^unday kind of man 1" Pa'ulip* gagped & little, "He wasn' t yaifc at "#," wept on Maria, digging viciously^ *]}c 4ough she was knea4i.ng, " there wasn't no go in him, giot a bit in the world. He ■hadn't sen^e enougi to' get in out of the rain." "Law!" Paulina gasped, wqbh, bated breath. Shecouid not shake off the dm-. psresiaoii ih«fe t%e. photograph could see and fcear thenir "La^r! whatever did you do, Maria, and? you so active? I * . "I— oh, I had tp.havl him inland it isn't 0.9 joke looking after a man as can't look aliefTisseil, 1 caj; tell you,' v : '.'Wie» was that toojfc?" asked Paulina, nodding her- prim : little head almost re.veiecjtiy- n.% *.he*poftrait, -which represettted tt^ft subject under ; discussion as in ai sort of mental JStocks. All: expression, banished fro^p, ibis ifiifi^t -ease of inatUiaJness fiom bi||; Efts neck firmly grippedt in a toprnicyqsi, caJWt, by r courtesy, '■ v cpllto' Hi^ h^,i^ 3ia^i?jg ast thOKga^it ha,d been, br^ahedi <J)oiwa ufltii^ att tessmblanc©, to; haiar WM f rf^pxe^ *9tt-^«9 :-~^»4fe:'% a wfctiag of glue, ox -^hi^,of> egg. 'iSffifa loohssd' a* A*'t .^^U4«t«-fe^ -'^'■PoWf^'pTSii » *&% m^fi/ He"?' That's exactly Mke him, too': 'Was took the, yea* KS-"we»t 46- Blyinbuth ib father's fuiieTa!l, We tosd JaicobThomas's likeness took taeft, beoause it uas", so handy ,6tir beiiig on the spot r and no. Know;ing when we; should "be travelling «I1 up therfr agam^ not ha-re >he money to spaijeiteTtn^t; It is so n«tuiail7.as you never, hi looked ju^fe, lifce *ha*, : the: very image, "wtten he was dressed up in his 'tot'her best, as you niay say. Law J how it do all come back to me again. 1 regular enjoyed that btitihgj though 'twas melancholy, sure enough, about poor father. He had a stroke^, and was took quite sudden. Wo was teiljgrafie4 for, and t never sees a teiiygraff post but what to this day it gives me ai regular turn. 'Twas the only one I ever had ; the only telly gram, I mean, and •when it coined I was afraid to open it, and no wonder when you comes to think what was in it ; so I puts it away for Jacob Thomas to read when he corned home to supper, and he had to get me the leastest drop of cordial to bring me round, I was that upset, and all that night I had to sit up helping Jane Whiting to make my black j dregs— the very dress as I've got on this minute, but it's bwn turned twice since then, afid reg'lar cleaned, with cold tea, •which is_a -wonderful good thing for black. I cleaned it again with cold tea when Jacob Thomas died, and it looked as fresh as fresh." *• H* was a powerful good preacher, so I've heard," said Paulina, still gazing at the martyr in tourniquet and stocks. She seemed more interested in reminiscences of fcijn than in Maria's more personal ones. "Oh, yes; he'd got the gift of preaching strong) but he never had much to say lor hSaself in an ord'nary way, and he was a terrible poor letter-writer." She slapped the dough viciously, and thrust her thumb savagely into the top of the loaf she had made. "Tve got more'n half-a-dozen of his love-letters upstairs that he wrote to me when we was coorting, and. l'll be bound if you was to take and read 'em that they'nt word for word alike. I never could notion what he kept on writing for, for when we was together he didn't seem 10 have nothing ■whatever to say, and it seemed to me. a pity he- should write hisself oub ! like that." . j Paulina was staggered. "Don't you know what's in the letters?" she asked, incredulously. " More or less. I never could learn to lead; but I got Jane Ann Lucas to Tead bits of 'em to me, and they seemed all pretty much of. a muchness." Paulina's light blue eyes nearly started from her head. "Jane "Ann Lucas! What, she that was going with your man for so long, and felb so sure of him that she went and bought her wedding dress, and^ give'd two and three 'apence a yard for it, _nd then he gave her up, after all, and took vp j with you?" • I Maria nodded vigorously, while a sinister emile played round her hard mouth. "That's tha girl. She was took in ov^r the frock and over the man, too, for when s iie'd gived up her Bhe went and had the frock dyed — 'twas a light grey to start with, only fit for a bride to wear — and 'twas that rotten, you never, 'twouldn't hardly bear making up. Yes; 1 asked her' to read Jacob Thomas's letter to me ; I wanted to pay her out; for what she'd said about me ; I vowed I would, and did." "What did she say about you, M'ria? You don't mind telling me, surely? You know things never goes no -further with me." " I never trusts nobody no- further than I can see 'em," said Maria genially, "but I don't mind telling about it. 'Twas only that Jane Ann was always having a grin at me 'cause she said I hadn't got no sweetheart, and couldn't expect to get none, with sueh — well, that part doesn't matter, but she said as how I, hadn't never had no sweetheart, and never would have, co I never rested till Td took hers from her just to let her know, and serve her right, too, she was always that stuck up there was no holding with her. Her was mortal fond of him, too, and her used to look, oh, you never, when I took in his letters for her to read. I don't believe I icould have served her out better," and 1 Maria bridled with self -satisfaction as she fought' her battles over again. " Poor Jane Ann," murmured the more gentle Paulina. Paulina was short and small, with a placid, faded face, and quantities of soft brown hair, which she wore combed back loosely from her forehead. " And do 'cc think her read it out as it was writ, M'ria," she asked, innocently, gazing thoughtfully, almost tenderly, the' while at the framed representation of the hero of this romance. Maria started, nearly dropping her tin of dough ; the colour rose to her cheeks, her dark eyes flashed. "Why —of — oh, my dear life, I never thought oi that!" she cried, Btartled out of her usual air of calm superiority. "I couldn't see for myself, but oh — she must have read them right— l— whatever put that into your head, Flina? Oh my dear life— l'll go and get the letters, and you shall read them out to. me. I'll get them at once, I shan't know ao rest now until you've read them — aw my! if her played me such a trick as that, aw my goodness me !" Maria hurriedly stumbled up the bare winding staircase, and Paulina heard < the boards creak as she heavily crossed the little bedroom above the kitchen ; the floors »nd walls were all so thin that she could fcear her little moans and ejaculations as ■he dived about in her box for the packet of letters. Paulina listened attentively, waiting until she heard her at the box, then leaning across the table to the daguerreotype, she hastily drew out her handkerchief from her pocket and covered the picture with it, carefully tucking] the edge down over the top of the frame. "I couldn't read no man's love-letters with him a-look-ing at me," she said softly, blushing even at the thought and mention of it. "I should die of shame, and another woman's letters seems worse." Maria presently came noisily stumbling down again, mth the letters, carefully wrapped in a paper bag, in her hand. Every stair creaked a iprotest as her weight ifeH on it, and the partition waE shook as she lurched heavily against it in her ungraceful descent. "I toldt her I

couldn't Tead," she said ; " I'm most sure she knew it before, though she made cut ! for a long time as though She couldn't believe it, and it -wasn't till I told her I didn't like to show Jacob Thomas's letters to no one else, but I should be forced to if She refused to read 'em to me, that she give'd in." Paulina stood staring <xt her friend 1 with eyes which grew more and more scared. This scene was to her almost oppressively solemn. It seemed so like treachery to the j dead man for a stranger to tread 1 3iis love I letters, "the outpourings of his heart's | love," as Paulina put dt in Iher sentimental, romantic mind. She often thought, poor soul, that if only men knew what faithful 'heart and wealth of affection were running ta waste in her 'bosom, one man, at least, would; know what a. good wife and) happy ■married life was. Maria broke in upon her awe-str«ick silence. "Take and open 'em, and read 'em out," she said, brusquely. " It dbesn'tmatter, as -I knows on, which you takes first; they're all much of a muchness, and the meanings all the same, only do 'cc make *aste; you -needn't be frightened, there's no secrets," Paulina timidly undid the parcel, and even more timidly raised one of the thumbmarked, untidily scrawled envelopes. "-Moist I really -open it, M'ria," she asked in lowered tones. "Oh, my goodness, P'lina, if you ain't enough to aggravate a saint ; why, yes, and I take and make 'aste do, they won't bite 'eej|/' ''■';■■ . '■ With at deprecating glance towards the portrait oi the departed lover, and a thrill of relief when she saw the handkerchief still draping it, she extracted the letter, and fceaaa to veacu ."My. dear 3i«ria,-T-I "hopes this will find you weel as it leaves me at present as you • didn't -come to meet me last night and <Jident- sentl- na I sposes you me will keep, .roe to my word>— " dead out :. Paulina. Her voice at first quivered with ! nervousness,, 'but astonishment swamping ] every ether feeling, it jjrew stronger as |, she v pr«cße^;ed. A cry from Maria inter- < r^pTeiLher. . U W% wfcai^ you reading? i Jane An^'"nev>f^rtftrd'&one o.f^ that- Her al- : ways read 7 out something like tWs, I remember it so -well, I knew it Tcn-rd for word pretty near. 'My dearest Maria,— l hopes this will find you "in good 'ealth as it kaves me at present. We have been having a bravo bit of wet weather lately. Will you crane for a walk en Sun-tiay, and so back to- mother's to tea, your loving friend, Jacob Thomas Dawe.' ' That was it so near as can be, and it must have been down 'pon the- paper like it, for I always went and .always met him. He hod never much to say for himself, but 1 didn't put that 'down for. naught but bashf illness. I never went to his mother's to tea, for I couldn't easy forget some things she'd said about me when- Jacob Thomas, threw over Jane Ann ; she was very took with Jane Ann, and had; her there to tea reg'lar — but do 'c© go on, whatever be 'cc stopping for?" "I think I'll try and: take them- as they come," Paulina,, sorting the letters carefully. " He's put the day -of the month op 'em-^-he must have been a very careful man. " I think this here's the first. 'Dear 'Maria",- I—l1 — I am writing to. say I hopes you : are welli as it leaves me at present, and to say I thinks we have both made a mistake. I 'don't think I \ like you well enough to marry you. I "tried to tell you when I seed you Sunday that I lcve Jane Ann deerly, -but my heart failed me. Please to write to tell me you gives? me up, and remains yours truly, Jacob Thomas Dawe. 1 " Paulina's face was fierce with blushes for the shame andi confusion of her friend. Maria, stood transfixed, a lump of dough on the board before her, her thumb pressed heavily into it, all the colour had faded from her usually florid 1 cheeks. "Ec you reading out what's there, P'lina?" she said at lastj speaking slowly, for speech did not eccme to her easily, "or be you playing a game with me, whichi I don't consider is in good taste?" " Oh, M'ria! I couldn't do no such thimj for whatever, I'm sure, and with Jacob Thomas's picture in the room, too, I don't know how you can think things of me," Paulina's voice soUnded tearful. Maiia's eyes, fell, on. the draped portrait, and her' moutM opened, but she thought better of the speech which was on, the tip of her tongue, and was silent, while a ; blush just . tinged her cheeks for ai moment. "Read one mere," she said, harshly, "and. look here, P'lina. I trusts you never to say one word of this to a single living creature." "Why, M'ria, my dear soul, you knows I wouldn't say nothing about it for whatever—why, M'ria, whatever's come to 'cc, what do 'cc take me for, and we such friends- — -?" and Paulina, at last broke down in a state of speechless indignation. "60 on !" was all Maria said, she could not waste thought on other people's feelings.^ ■•• ' Dear Maria,— l hops this will find you well, as it leaves me at present. I hops you are not ofended with me for what I says in my last ; but if you 'olds me to dt, of course I will try to make you a good husban* ; tout 'l 'oped you would have told me you was going to look out for another chap.— Yours, respectfully, /Jacob Thomas Dawe." ' Maria moved mechanically to the oven, and put the loaf in to bake. _ She was dazed an<J shaken, but she was not going to,' let any one she how much she was hurt, she would, rather die first. Ht'r household duties/were second nature to her, she went on witlh them mechanically. Paulina stood transfixed, too frightened to read any more of the letters, too -afraid of Maria to offer any consolation, and too shattered by the. bomb «he had . so unexpectedly discharged, to.do anything, realise anything, or speak. Maria- moved about with an unusual amount of bustle, nervously turning her .head incessantly from, side to side, aa though, busily engaged in taking in one after. another the domestic items she had to: attend' to, pretending to be absorbed in her work, and recovering herself a little by the very efforts Bhe made to appear unconcerned. Not a word was spoken for minutes ; then .Maria, feeling the silence unbearable, determined to treat the whole affair as a joke, and began to laugh ; but in. the midst -of the hard, forced merriment, anidea occurred' to her ; her laughter stop-, ped as suddenly as it had begun. "Oh, my goodness!" she cried, collapsing into a chair, " Oh, my goodness, P'lina. She must have read the letters right, and have fooled me. She must have told me lies a purpose. Oh, Plina! oh, my dear soiil! she knew what was in they letters and deceived me about them so as to spite him-r-and made me marry him against his will. Oh, ■ P'lina, me to marry any man against his will ; and such a fool, too," she added, as though in that lay the greatest degradation of all. "Oh, whatever can I do!. I can't never meet none of them 1.0 more, oh my, oh my good Lord!" and with a groan of abject shame her head fell forward on her flowery hands and the dishcloth she was holding. Paulina was more frightened at the sight of Maria's breakdown than by anything that had ever happened in all her life before ; but the greatness of the occasion set her to working her wits. " No, no," she cried, with sudden inspiration, "don't 'cc take on so, my dear. Jane Ann was awful see upon Jacob Thomas, and would more like have, tried to part 'cc than keep 'cc together." " Her pride was up," sadd Maria, disconsolately ; " she was terrible upset when he gave/her the go-by." . " Yes, I know 'her was ; but don t you see, if her 'had read they letters, as they -was writ, her •would have knowedl as how he didn't care for — -that he — bhat he'd made a mistake, and wanted — oh, you know what I mean." "Yes, I know," said Maria, hastily. She could mot endure to have the case put into words again. " But I can't understand how her comed — " she broke off, lost in miserable conjectures. Paulina sat and stared at her ; her mind was « little confused, but working more vigorously 'than ever in its life before. "WKy, 1 know," she cried at last, starting up in a perfect frenzy of excitement, " why, I know, and it serves hen out for her silly pride. Jane Ann couldn't read no more'n that table can,, Why; Swwever come'd I

| never 'to 'think of tha* before ! Of course, i 1 remember now, so well as possible, 1 was the only one as could read ; Jane An« didn't know A from B : 'twas all a makeup, 'cause EJie wouldn't own up to you as now she was ignorant. Well ! how stupid of me never to think of that and she to serve 'herself "out so, all through her own silliness, and never to know ft either. Well, I never-, and what a difference dt might •have made to her, and — and Jacob Thomas." Maria looked 1 up •with a great sigh of relief; the worst of her shame seemed removed. "Aw, what a -relief," she cried, '• I don't cares much as long as 'she didn't know, for if she couldn't tell, nobody else knows nothing at all about it. Jacob Thomas wouldn't -tell nobody, I will say that for 'ha. Oh! my dear life! how glad I aan. I wish, Jacob Thomas hadn't been able to read nor to write neither/ then there wouldn't 'have been no letters," she added "there's no enfi to the wickedness br-ought about by so/much learning." Paulina was hurt, ' Iyer accomplishments were the piide of her 4ife and an> insult had been hurled 1 at them. " If it 'baidn't been for me 'being able to read," sfli© said, "the letters might have fallen into nobody knows whose hands after you was gome, and a fine laugh— — " " Take and bum 'em at once !" cried Mania* frightened at the bare idea. " Take and 1 burn 'em, P'iLna." "I wonder Jacob Thomas didn't go to Jane Ann and tell her ibiis feelings wasn't changed towards her," went on Paulina, spitefully. " Most likely he would have' if he hadn't written instead, so his letter- ■ writing was a good: thing for you. in one way." " Jacob Thomas wasn't like that," answered Maria, "not latterly — you see be turned religious, . affl'd he felt 'twas the Lord's will as he was to have me>, and-noth-ing would hinder him. from going tihrough with it, unless I gave- iijia back his word. 'Twos just about thie time he> went with me that he was converted, 'twasn't till after he was married .that 'h© took, to preaching." " 'Twos a pity for Jane Ann. thait he didn't turn pious before." " 'Twos a pity for me," said Maria, sharply, " that she didn't have him. He was a wis'ht poor soul to 'have about; he scarcely ever opened his niouth 'cept when he was in the pulpit. Take and burn they letters," she added, more genially, feeling that she had' asserted her dignity sufficiently, amd not wishing to be unfriendly with the ©barer of her secret, "do 'cc burn them, P'lina, I couldn't touch them for whatever." Paultnsi, sorely against her will, took up the letters one |>y one, and dropped them into the blazkig fire. . 4^'Tisn't many women reads their loveletters for the first time ten or fif teem years after they gets them," said Maria. •'You waited so long tihiat all the- love must have evappyrated, judging by what I read," said Paulina, tartly ; su© still smarted under the blow aimed at !h«*r accomplishments, "and they're helping now to bake your bread, so they've come in for something. Poor Jacob Thomas," she added, sympathetically ; and her last words stung, its she intended tihey should.