“THE EVIL THAT MEN DO”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 4 September 1936, Page 7

“THE EVIL THAT MEN DO”

CHAPTER X (Continued). He hastily and'with trembling hands, unfastened the string that bound the little parcel, and disclosed to view the massive gold chain, the gold rings, and brooch, which Preaching Jim had stolen from Robert Maxwell’s box, and which Peggy had taken from the gipsy camp. But in addition to these things there was an oval miniature of a lady. It was exquisitely painted on ivory, was set in fine gold, and was attached to a small, thin gold chain, So that it could be worn round the neck. It was on this miniature that Peter’s eyes feasted, and surging emotion choked the words he tried to utter. “When I removed that from your neck,” Peggy observed, “you asked me not to take it as it was your dear mamma. ’ ’ “My mother,” he exclaimed as he pressed the miniature to his lips and burst into tears. Peggy did not speak, and there was a long silence between them, during which he gazed on the portrait with loving curiosity and emotion. At last lie -examined its workmanship, and noticed "that the miniature lifted out of the gold setting, and on looking at the back he read this inscription: To my dear son, Peter,: —This portrait represents your beloved mother, my unfortunate wife. Robert Maxwell. “There is no doubt, then, about this being my mother,” he murmured, “nor that my real name is Maxwell. Poor mother, how I should like to know your history. And my father,” turning to Peggy, “did you never hear what became of him?”

Peggy did not answer immediately. She seemed greatly troubled, but at last said in a low tone, ‘ ‘ I have reason to think that he was murdered, and that Scruddy and Jim Pycroft committed the foul deed between them.” “Oh, heavens!” Peter Maxwell moaned, “can it be possible? And I have allowed all these years to pass without making any attempt to be revenged on my father’s assassins.” “It is better so,” Peggy said sadly. “You have been happier as things have been. ’ ’

lie crossed over to her and folded liis arms around her neck, and as he kissed her affectionately on the forehead he said, “I think you are right, my dear, good mother. I will always try to think so. At any rate, you have been prompted by the best of motives. God bless you. God bles you.” She returned his embraces, and sobbed bitterly, and it was some time before either was sufficiently calm to speak. Then with an effort she asked:

“And now, my son, fqr .so I must continue to call you, tell me, my dear, what you intend to do.” “To go to Edinburgh first to see Miss Jaggers. After that I shall take steps to learn the sad story of my parents.” CHAPTER XI. Peter’s determination to still go and see Miss Jaggers was- another blow to his foster-mother, who had told him the story of his early life, so far as she knew it, simply because she firmly believed that it would change his feelings for Bertha. For many long years Peggy had kept the secret to herself, as she was deeply impressed with the idea that he would never be able to discover anything about his parentage, and therefore the story would only serve to make him restless and dissatisfied, and it might end in him leaving her. The fear of that had always had a very powerful effect on her mind. And now, when she found that Bertha’s attractions were still all-power-ful, her prejudice against the blind girl increased, and after much conflict with herself Peggy resolved upon a scheme that had much boldness about it, but which she hoped might in the end enable her to see her cherished dream for her foster-son a reality. It was several days before Peter could fix a date upon which he could start on his journey to the north; a journey not as now to be performed in a few hours, but which then took a full week, was very expensive, and was beset with not a few perils. All the story of his early history, as he had learned it from Peggy, he laid before Messrs Fibsdyke and Martin, to whom he was indebted for so much encouragement and many advantages; and those gentlemen, who had always been interested in him, became more so now, and promised all the legal assistance they could render with a view to tracing his parentage and true position. Such assistance from such a firm could not fail to be very valuable, and Peter was deeply-grateful; and though he was by no means given to building castles in the air, he could scarcely avoid a few now, as he thought it possible that investigation might prove him entitled to riches and position. At last, his arrangements being all completed, he announced to his mother that he intended starting in two days’ time, and then she surprised him by saying, “I am going to accompany you as far as Carlisle, Peter.” “To accompany me; what for?” he queried in great astonishment. “Dear, you must let me keep that a secret at present. I have a purpose in view, but until I know whether it is likely to succeed or fail, I wish to be silent about it.” Much as he would have liked to have known what this purpose was, Peter did not consider he was justified in pressing her; so they set out together, and journeyed in company to Carlisle, where she parted from him, having first promised to meet him in Edinburgh as soon as possible.

Tlie address Bertha had given in Edinburgh was easily found, but before proceeding there Peter installed himself in a well-known hotel, and sent her word of his arrival,, asking her to appoint a time for an interview. This she did, and so with strange and' mingled feelings he proceeded to her home. A maid-servant having shown him in,

BY R. DONOVAN.

left him, and Peter’s heart took to furious beating as he thought that, after patient waiting and vexatious trials, he would at last be able to take this woman, whom lie journeyed so far to see, into his arms and say, “Bertha, my love for you lives, and you must be my wife, as you promised.” He waited thus in painful suspense for nearly lialf-an-liour, and never in his life had his' patience and endurance been so sorely tested. But at last the maid appeared again and asked him to follow her. He did so, and in a few moments she led the way into another small room which was so darkened by the curtains being drawn at the windows that, coming out of the glare of light, Peter could at first see nothing. But, as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he observed a lady sitting on a sofa. She wore large blue spectacles; her face was pale to deathliness. That much he could see, but the partial darkness did not enable him to make out any of the details of the face. He was a little taken aback, and stammeringly asked, “Excuse me, madam, but is Miss Jaggers not at home?”

He was answered by a weak, trembling voice that told of pain and suffering. “Mr Watson, I am Bertha Jaggers, but not very like the Bertha Jaggers you knew little more than a year ago. ’ ’ With a cry such as he might have uttered had he been shot, he sprang towards her, but she raised her hand to ward him off, and, still speaking in the same trembling way, she said, “Please do not come near me until you have listened to what I have to tell you. ’ ’

She pointed to a chair, and Peter dropped into it almost mechanically. A little while ago his heart was thrumping at his ribs; now it seemed to be standing still, and a sickening faintness stole -over him; for something evidently was wrong. He saw that, and it -seemed to him that all his hopes had vanished, his dreams had been rudely dispelled, and that a -shadow had lured him on only to mock him. “Since last we met,” she began in a low, sad voice, “things have changed for mo. When I left you my eyes were in darkness, now I see your face, and it is, as I always imagined it to be, a face full of intelligence and generosity. ’ ’ “You have recovered your sight then?” he cried. “Yes, although my eyes are weak, and I am obliged to be very careful. Since I last saw’ you I have undergone an operation, which has been successful. The curtain which before shrouded me from the world has been lifted. ’ ’

“This is good news indeed,” he exclaimed, as he made a motion as if he were about to approach her, but she put up her hand again to keep him off, and said:

“Please listen to me patiently. You have- come here anticipating that I should fulfil my promise to be your wife, have you not?” “Certainly! ” “Then I am bound to- tell you the story of my life before I knew you and since we parted. ’ ’ She sighed lieavily, before proceeding: “When you told me in your mother ’se house in London ■that you loved me, you made me feel for a moment very happy, but I saw at once that were you to marry me you might come to think you had thrown yourself away. Besides, your, mother showed the most violent opposition to me, and said that if I encouraged you she would turn me out of her house and do her best to ruin me.” .

Peter groaned, but he felt that he. dare not trust himself to speak. Bertha proceeded: “In these circumstances, I deemed it’ only fair to you that I should not in any way blight your prospects, or be a clog upon your movements. I was blind, wretchedly poor, and friendless, and with nothing that could make me acceptable in your sight.” “Yes,” he cried with enthusiasm, “beauty of mind, not to speak of beauty of face.” “Ah, you saw with love’s eyes,” she returned -sadly, “but let me go on. I wa® the only girl in a family of four. My brothers all ran wild, went wrong,, and died young. My mother was a woman of high family, of great wealth, and first met my father at a fashionable boarding-school, where he was a teacher of music and she was a pupil. They were both young and foolish; planned an elopement, and successfully carried it out. The marriage proved, as such marriages do invariably, a most unhappy one. My mother was proud, haughty, and of a violent temper, though very beautiful and very accomplished. When her marriage became known to her friends they all turned their backs upon her, saying that she had disgraced them, and her own father died, as I understand, cursing her. (To be Continued.!