THE TRUMP CARD.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10440, 20 April 1912, Page 3

THE TRUMP CARD.

(By HELIiN PROTHERO LEWIS.) Author of "The Bog Lovers," etc

[Aix Rights Rbsbkvkd.] CHAPTER I. Long after the whole countryside had Degun gossiping over the matter, tho father's eyes were opened by that most cruel of instruments, the anonymous letter. .His daughter was "carrying on" — that had been tho expression used—with his head gardener. AVhersoever lay John Adams' work, there, if the squire went' to look for her, he would find his only child and heiress. The pair held regular trysts; in the conservatories, in the kitchen gardens, in the shrubberies. Every evening, whilst the squire drank his after-dinner wine, his motherless girl was in tho pergola at tho end of the Italian garden, in Adams' arms. In the month of October they had been seen together in a moorland inn on the borders of Exnioor. The squire would probably remember that his daughter had gone to stay in Devonshire during that month, and that Adams had taken his holiday at the same time.

The letter was like a tongue of flame, running smoothly along, searing and destroying as it ran. It laid waste the soft places in tho father's heart; he woko up from the shock a man of iron and stone.

Mercilessly ho laid his plans. There should bo no accusation, no opportunity given for subterfuge or denial. He would find out for himself whether tho writer of the letter had told the truth or lied, and if his daughter had so deceived him and disgraced herself, she should go forth from her homo with this tiller of the soil, to lead her future life on a lower level. He would have done with her.

All that day he bided his time, giving no sign. Esthor faced him at the din-ner-table that evening, and never dreamed that the quiet, deliberate manner was but a lid held down by strenuous effort over a raging furnace. When dinner was over she left him over his port and the evening paper, and retired to her own boudoir, a novel, and the sofa—that was tho presumed programme—until nine o'clock, when she usually rejoined him in the billiardroom for tho nightly game. The instant she had gone Matthew Hillyard opened the French Window, stopped out into a night unlit by moon or stars, and crossed a lawn drenched with tho heavy dew£ of autumn. An archway in tho wall gave access to the Italian garden. He passed in, and when ho reached the pergola sought for the spot that held blackest shade and hid himself thero. In a very fow minutes ho heard the frou-frou of a women's silken skirt along the gravelled path, and a white figure came into view. After it stole a tall, dark figure. The white figure halted, and the dark one came up and took it into his close embrace.

For twenty minutes tho father stood there, a motionless spectator of all that passed, an auditor of every word that :was spoken. Then he stole away, leaving tho pair in the pergola. And his fine homo when he returned to it seemed suddenly to have changed from beauty to ashes, and his future to be a meaningless thing, for he had a daughter no longer. She had married Adams, his gardener. Esther did not see him again that night. He sent to tell her that some important letters would keep him busy until bed-time, and he did not wish.

to be disturbed. The next morning he left iho breakfast table before she sat down io it, leaving by one door as she enterrd by another. Then he went upstairs and sought out her maid.

"Miss Hillyard is leaving this house in half an hour," he said. " you will not accompany her. There will be no need for you to go to her for instructions; you.wiil obey mine Sho will take with her one trunkfu'l of useful clothes, necessaries for day wear; no evening dresses, no jewellery, no laces nor fripperies. Leave out a travellinghat and coat. Please proceed at once with the packing, and let it bo finished within the half-hour."

There was an expression in his ©ye which terrified the maid. She hastened to carry out his instructions. Half an hour later, first Adams and then Esther, wero sent for to the library. They arrived almost simultaneously, and exchanged a glance of fear, perceiving at once the signs of the coming storm. Mr Hillyard stood upon the hearthrug, his hands hanging by his sides, clenched, his face wniteas death.

"I havo just learnt of your marriage," ho said, addressing the pair. " You did not consult mo, and I have no comment to make on the matter. Your place now, fJsther, is with your husband. He leaves my service at once. Of course you go with him. Your luggage has already gone to the station. Here, Adams, are the wages to which, you are justly entitled '"'

He advanced a step or two, and laid a cheque on a table by the gardener's side. Adams and Esther stared at him helplessly, too "stunned for the moment to speak. Hillyard strode past them into the hall. '' And this, he said. '' is your way out. Plunkett. show Mr and Mrs Adams to the doer. '

The butler, too, had received his instructions. He stood waiting, looking as white as his master, in bis hands his young mistress's hat and coat. The entrance door stood open, revealing the prospect of lawns and gardens unequalled in tho country, the sunshine streamed into tho house, illumining a home-like old-world 'hall, filled with flowers, and cherished household gods. Suddenly acute realisation of the tragedy she had brought about, pierced to Esther's brain. She sprang forward. "Oh, father," she cried, "forgive us! We love each other- truly; if you knew John aa I do, you would recognise that he is fit for any station, any woman —■—■" Her father raised his hand. Keep awav," he thundered in a voice of fury, " keep away from me, and pass out at that door.'' , Bv this time Adams had recovered himself. Ho took up the cheque and advanced to his wife's side. A splendid man to look at. Nature is no respecter of class. With her potter's thumb she will sometimes fashion a vessel of ungainly make for a ducal mansion, and turn out one perfect in line and beauty for the cottage. There was nobility in Adams's bearing as ho faced his furious father-in-law.

"Sir," he said, "I beg you to believe that I did not marry your daughter with the idea of raising and bettering mvself. I. love hor ; and that's the long and the short of it. And I'm perfectly willing to try and maintain her independently of you. And I recognise we've dealt you a heavy blow. But I hope for Esther's flake you'll see your way later to forgive us, else the poor girl, brought up as she has been "

"Pass out," shouted the father, in an access of even greater fury than before.

Voice and face both betrayed a passion which was passing the limits of self-control. Plainly the situation could not be prolonged, or worse trould befall. Ad.-vms held out his hand to his wife. She turned with a despairing gesture for her coat. The butler helped her into it, his hand shaking aa if with an ague. Ho h-d carried Esther *in his arms when s_.e was a little child, and it was terrible to him to see her go forth tlius. Husband and wife passed out into tho sunshine side by side. Even as they descended the Bteps the door clanged behind them, shut by a relentless and violent hand. The sound pierced Esther's heart. It was like a voice shrieking aloud to her a story of Irreparable loss. She felt as Eve must have done, when behind her stood barred gates, and the angel of the naming sword.

CHAPTER 11. The ever-vigilant Press did not miss excellent "copy." It was extraordinary how far Esther's story travelled. In consequence, Adams, a capable man with excellent credentials, found it difficult to obtain another situation. People were chary of employing a gardener who trailed; behind him a ladywifo who might prove an embarrassment. At length a Welsh colliery proErietor, heedless of Adams's private istory, and struck by his testimonials, engaged him at a good salary, and placed at his disposal a pretty little cottage by a stream. And here Esther settled down, with the man for whose sake she had lost so much, and made great effort to ba happy. Adams was one of Nature's gentlemen; a life spent out of doors in Hpacious and beautiful surroundings had given him a certain largeness of character, and his great personal beauty tided him over many reefs on which a loss attractive man would have foundered. In spite q! the difference of upbringing, Esther continued to love him passionately. He, too, continued to love her, truly and tenderly, but neither could completely fill the life of the other. The inevitable happened. Adams, after a time, took to strolling off to tho village »n the evenings; he craved for talk with his fel-low-men, a Parliamentary election was imminent, ha waa a keen politician, and developed a talent for platform oratory. Esther, left necessarily alone in the daytime, was now often left alone of an evening as well. She could havo gone with her husband—he often asked her to accompany him—but sho felt instinctively that her society would be an embarrassment to the villagers, just as it would have been an embarrassment to the " gentry," had she courted meetings and intimacy. She belonged nowhere now; was neither flesh, nor fowl, nor good red herring.

And so she sowed at tiny garments, sitting alone in the porch or the cottage, and Watched the sunsets flame and fade beb hid the nigged Welsh hills that hid from her tho outer world, and listened in the dusk to the stream, murmuring of wide places it had known before it entered this shut-in Valley. Slowly misery laid hold of her, and thero grew Up an insane desire to got away, to leave behind her for ever the narrow uncongenial life, and tiring round of household duties. But she knew she could not yield to it. There was John to be reckoned with. She loved him. She could never leave John. Even if she went away he would tear at her heart-strings and bring her back again. So she said no word of her feelings, and went on with her sewing, arid her cooking, and her dusting, and John, when no saw she was growing listless and pale, put it down to physical causes, and, committing an extravagance, procured a servant girl to help her, and understood not at all tno growing malady of hor mind.

But one day, coming home unexpectedly early from a political meeting, he found Esther talking wildly to herself by tho stream. " There are two ways out," he heard her say as he stole up behind her in the gloaming, "by the river, if I throw myself into it and let it bear me away, and by the hills, if I walk over them'into the sunset. It shall be by the hills, and if he comes after me I'll fight him, and if my heart says ' Go back to him,' I'll set my teeth and break and tear it. The bond shall be