Copyright Story. A FORGOTTEN OBSTACLE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXV, Issue XIV, 6 October 1900, Page 649

Copyright Story. A FORGOTTEN OBSTACLE.

By

TOM GALLON

(Author of “A Prince of Mischance,” etc.)

“Wilkins —there’s a baby asleep in that other room; be careful not to disturb it. Bring - me a whisky and soda, and, in a quarter of an hour’s time, call a hansom.” The discreet man-servant merely bowed, murmured—" Very good, sir”— and retired. Mr Richard Beddington softly opened the door of his sitting room, and walked noiselessly across the carpet. Deep amongst the cushions of a great arm-chair, within the glow which fell from the shaded lamp, a child—a baby girl of about three years of age—lay peacefully’ sleeping. Beddington stooped for a moment, and gently put back the straying - eurls from the baby’s face; then he seated himself in a chair opposite, with his chin in his hand, and looked for a long time in silence at the child. “It’s touch and go to-night, baby,”

he murmured presently. “They say that if there's anything will keep the devil out of a woman, and hold her to the path of virtue, it’s those baby fingers that touch her heartstrings, and wake the best music for them. So we’ve got to try you. She stands at the parting of the ways to-night, and no god nor devil holds the’ power to put her on the right path, that you hold. As for me—l don’t count, and never did. But that’s no matter.” The entrance of Wilkins, with the announcement that the cab was waiting, put an end to Beddiiigtou’s musings. The servant merely planced at the child; knowing his master well, he, would probably - riot have expressed the slightest surprise, had he been told that a young Polar bear had been brought into the place, instead of a baby. Beddington hastily swallowed some spirits, and put on the hat and coat handed to him; then he gathered the child up in his arms, and went out into the hall.

“I shall probably be very late,” he said. “Don’t wait up. Good-night!” He climbed into the cab, and put the still sleeping child beside him on the seat; gave an address to the driver, and was driven rapidly away. Some ten minutes later, the vehicle drew up at the door of a small house in the neighbourhood of Chelsea; Mr Richard Beddington. with the child lying - easily in the bellow of his arm, dismissed the cab, and rang the bell.

The servant who answered his summons would have barred the way; but Beddington pushed past him hurriedly, and signed to him to elose the door. In the coolest possible fashion, he laid his burden down on a cushioned seat in the hall, and faced the man.

“Now, Jackson—you know me. and I think you have the rare merit of keeping a still tongue in your head. At all events, here’s something to assist your silence.” He slipped some gold into the man’s hand. “Where’s your master?”

“Out, sir. Expected back in about half an hour.” “Good. He has a visitor. 1 think?” The man hesitated, but decided that candour was best. “Well, yes, sir—there’s a lady—”

Richard Beddington drew a long breath. “Ah! I thought so. I’ll go and see her....Oh, it’s nothing to do with you; and you’re not likely’ to get into trouble. The lady is a friend of mine, and, in matters of this sort, I please myself. Never mind the baby; she’ll sleep comfortably enough.” The perplexed servant simply’ shrugged his shoulders, and indicated, by a movement of bis hand, the door through which Beddington should pass; the young man nodded, stepped quickly into the room, and closed the. door behind him. At the. further end of the room a woman sat. with her hat and cloak on, nervously clasping and unclasping her hands; beside her, on the floor, was a small travelling bag. She turned sharpie as he came into th* room, and started to her feet;

moved swiftly towards him; then stopped suddenly, staring at him in amazement. “Dick!” she ejaculated. “Oh, yes—it’s Dick. Didn’t expect to see me, eh?” “No—l—l—was expecting—” “Exactly—you were expecting Urswiek. It’s a queer world, you know—and things never turn out quite in tho way we expect.” lie laughed, ami strolled across to the mantel-piece, upon which he leant a careless arm. "Wont you sit down?” She came very slowly towards him. “What are you doing here? What do you want?” “With tho inconsistency of your sex. you are reversing our positions,” he replied coolly. “It is for me to ask those questions—for you to answer them. What are you doing here?—and what do you want?” “I shall not answer you. It is my alfair alone.” He shook his head. “Pardon me — you are wrong - . If it were your affair alone, I might not have come here tonight. We all have our own Jives to lead, and we lead them—God help us! — in our own foolish fashion, and by our own foolish laws—and it doesn’t matter mueh. But some of us, my dear lady, are not alone, and cannot lead the lives we would wish; perhaps that’s better for us. You’re running away.” She laughed, and seated herself opposite to where he stood, and began twisting a ring - round and round on her tinger. “Well—what is that to do with you ?” "Oh —nothing much, I suppose. If a man were properly’ constituted, and looked at, life from a philosophical standpoint, it ought never to matter t<> him that a woman for whom he has any’ tenderness elects to go to the devil.” “Really—you take matters very - tragically,” she replied. “Who says I’m going to the devil?” “It is scarcely necessary for any one to say; you know what road you’re treading. You’ve made up your mind to take a disgraceful flight with James Vrswick; you’re going to cut yourself off from all that’s decent and holy’ and sweet; you’re going to be in the long, long list of the forlorn and the forsaken. Do you realise what you're doing?” “How did you find out all this?” “Oh—l’ve seen it coming - for a long time. A chance put me in the way of discovering that, the crisis had arrived. I called at your place to-night, to see your husband. He was out, and I asked permission to leave a note for him; on his writing-table 1 discovered a letter - in your handwriting. I should probably have passed it by, but that, in moving it aside, I discovered that there was something hard and thick inside. The mere touch of a finger showed me that the letter held a ring - . Now, my dear Vera, ladies are not in the habit of leaving letters addressed —‘ To my husband ’ —with rings inside them, unless under special circumstances. A casual inquiry elicited the information that you had gone out. taking a travelling bag - with you. That being the situation —I opened the letter.” She sprang up, with flaming - eyes. “How dared you!” she cried. “That letter was addressed to my’ husband.” “Sit down —sit down,” he said. “I swear to you that, before you leave this house to-night, you'll thank me from a grateful heart for having taken it, before your husband had a chance, to see it. Now —let’s discuss the matter calmly.” “I have no wish to discuss anything; with you,” she retorted. “Why do you interfere in something which does not concern you?” “That’s just what I’m coming to.” he replied. "It does, concern me- in a way, at least.” “1 don’t understand you,” she suid. slowly, seating herself again, and watching him intently. “I will try and explain, and I won’t be more tedious than I can help. I’ve got to go back a bit. because I’m rather a slow sort of fellow, and I like to work out these things in my mind,

and piece i Item together as 1 po on.** He took a long breath—a breath that wax almost like a sigh. “Years ago 1 fell in love with you —no. you'd better hear what I have to say -and I thought you the best and the finest and the most beautiful woman in the world: I'm almost afraid I think so She had grown \ery still; the restless movement of her hands had ceased, and her face was partially turned from him. “I think you must understand,'* he went on—“that, when a man loves a woman with any constancy he puls her right away up on a pedestal—oh, a long way above the angels—and she seems to shine, in his vision, in a sort of white and splendid light; she's something that nothing mean nor common can touch. Don't you understand t hat ?” She shrugged her shoulders carelessly’: hut she seemed to Ih» listening intently all the same. “And that is what I was fool enough to do with you. Even now. I haven't forgotten the dreams I had; I conjure up again sometimes the paradise in which I lived. But that is not the question now. What I want to tell you is this: that, when a man has ranked a woman as high as I have you, he can't bear the thought of seeing her dragged down, and hearing her name tossed about from lip to lip, like that of any creature of commoner clay. It hurt me pretty badly when you married Brandon; out you evidently loved him, ami you didn’t love me—and there was an end of the matter. 1 could still think of you as something sweet and good—a little too near the stars for me, perhaps—but still every thing that I had believed you to be. Now. you're going to spoil all that; you’re going to drag all my dreams down, and wake me up. and cry to me—‘See what a vile thing is here; see what a tawdry thing of tinsel is this you have worshipped so long!” Vera- for the love of the old days, you won't show me that I have, been wrong, will you?” She looked up at him defiantly’, and laughed--a laugh whielt made his heart sink within him. “My dear boy’,” she said, “you are very young, and you've got such a- lot to learn before you understand what life means. Dick, you've been talking moonshine — all very’ pretty, I admit, but not a bit. to the purpose. You don't understand me, or you would never have put me on a pedestal, as yon term it. 1 am just an ordinary woman, made up of flesh and blood—a little good—and a mighty Jot of evil. We're meeting tonight, for probably the last time; an accident has put you in possession of my secret, and so I'll be frank with you, and drag down that tine image in the dust myself. 1 made a mistake a hideous, brutal blunder—when I married Mark Brandon. He has never understood me. and he never will. We got on fairly well- as well. I suppose, as most married people do—at first: but one small trouble led to another, and. at the present moment. I have fully made up my mind to sever my chains.’’ “And run away with Vrswick?” “Certainly. He's been in love with me for a long time—and 1 think that 1 am rather fond of him.” “I don't want to say anything unsportsmanlike,” said Beddington. slowly—“but I suppose you know that Vrswick is a blackguard?” “Oh. people say so. I believe. she replied carelessly i “I'm not sure that I don't like him the better for one gets rather tired of good people.’ “Forgive me, —you're simply talking nonsense. Good heavens, woman, can't .you wake up out of this evil dream? It isn't yourself that's speaking at all: you're only re-echoing all the vile platitudes Vrswick has been pouring into your ears for weeks past. ! know I'm powerless in the matter—but is there nothing that will call you back to your old. sweet, sane self. ’ Vera Brandon shook her head doggedly. “You don't understand.” she said, “and therefore it's quite useless my trying to explain. Give me back the letter. I tell you I am going to make a fresh start to-night: I've taken the plunge, and I ” “No—you’ve not taken the plunge yet; and it isn't too late to step back. Think for a moment: your husband knows nothing.of t his--has not even seen your note; you may return at once, before your absence is discovered.” “I tell you my decision is taken, and T shall not draw back now. If I choose to do this thing, what stands in my way—what obstacle is there?” \ strange answer came to the question: the eilence of the room was pierced bj the thin, quavering cry of

the child. The woman stopped, watching the man, and one hand went nvrluudy up to her throat. The cry wad repeated. “What’s that?” She looked full at Beddington, and came slowly towards him, and mopped her hand on his shoulder, and shook him. “Do jou hear me? What was that?* He never took his eyes from hers; for quite a long minute they stared at each ocher. ’1 hen the man laughed, a little uneasily, and spoke. “Oh- that? —that's the obstacle. Wait a moment—l*ll show you what 1 mean.” lie went swiftly out of the room, and came back with the child in his arms. She had one small hand up over his shoulder, and the little tired head had sunk down upon it. so that the face was hidden. When Beddington spoke again his voice was curiously low and soft. “When I went to your house just now I heard this baby crying all alone upstairs. Its nurse bad apparently left it to its own devices and its mother—well, you know where its mother was. So I thought — it was rather a liberty, T know—but I thought I'd bring her with me.” Airs. Brandon had turned her back to him, and one foot was beating restlessly on the floor; he thought, too, as he looked at her, that her shoulders were moving ominously—but he, might have been mistaken. “It was an awful piece of cheek on my part,” he went on. still in the same low voice—“but I seemed to look a little way ahead, and to see ibis baby and she's such a pretty baby, too - growing up to a worse fate than if she hail never had a mother at ail. I seemed to see her. when all the world should have smiled upon her. weighed down by the thought of the mother who deserted her when she was a baby—the mother whose name was u bye-word and a reproach for al! time. It didn't seem quite fair somehow; itwas so damned rough on the baby, You see, if she'd been grown up. she could have fought for herself but’ she's such a helpless mite that shr'u tit for nothing.” She turned round quickly, and stretched out her arms. “Give her to me,” she said, without raising her eyes to his face. He shook his head. “Not yet.” he said. “I'm not quite sure of you: I have lost my grip of you. somehow I have heard it said that there are women—quite common toiling women. too —who would not hesitate to stand between their poor brats and King Death himself; and you leave yours, io get on as best she may, while you run off with a specious blackguard, who won't hesitate to leave you next week, if he finds soipe. one he likes better.” She sank down on the sofa, and began to weep bitterly in a wild despairing fashion that was t.rril.le to see. Richard Beddington stepped softly across the room, and laid the child in her lap. and drew one of her arms about it; then he walked across to the. window, and stood looking out al the darkness in silence. After a time the wild weeping was hushed, and lie caught only the sound of an al sob or fitful moan. Looking round presently, he saw that sin* held tho child close against her. and softly

r<K-k<-<! it to and fro. while her face w:i> hidden against >t> bright hair He amiled to himself as he turned again towards the window . Presently she looked up. and spoke in an altered voice—a voice which shook a little, <!«•• pit.- her efforts to control it. “What will you have me to do? Won't yon help me?” lb- stood where he was for a minute longer; perhaps he wished to give her time to recover her self-posses-sion. Then he turned, and spoke quite cheerfully and briskly. "That's right—that’s my old friend come back again. It's the easiest thing in the world: you've simply got to go home again, ami take the baby with you.” "But Mark—my husband?” "Will know nothing abot t it: of that you may be sure. My dear girl." —he came nearer as he spoke—"l know that my friend. Brandon, is not the easiest fellow in tiie world to live with, although he's a good enough fellow, as men go. But in this world of ours we’ve got to take things as thev are; if it had been intended ih.it we "should all lie on beds of roses, a beneficent Providence would have provided a larger supply of th use flowers. I'm not going to talk about myself; but there are lots ol men a; -I women in this big city to-nigiit who w,. id give the world to have something *beydon': possess, or to lo < something they don't want. But it can't be done, and the wises; man is he who sits still and makes the best ( ,f thing’s. See that little hand" -I;- reached down, and gently to >!< the tiny hand of the ehild in his palm, without waking her—"l think I'd glv. up tny hopes of heaven to-night in have such a ham! to point rn< the way sometimes. and keep me from straying. Hood Bod! woman- you don’t know what you nearly threw away!" On an impulse, she took his hand, v.itli the tiny one lying in it. -and touched both with her lips. "Tell me what I shall do." she said again, humbly. "Yon must leave a note for l'r.-w ick I'll tell you what to sa; -and then cut off home as fast as you can. Mark won't be back until ve;y late. ami. as I say. wili know nothing about the matter. Come—write your note and get off." Obedient to his dictation, she wrote a few words on a scrap of paper, and left them for Urswick. "It is no. too late to s, • n bm k. even at the eleventh hour. V. e shall not meet a<rain. and. should you call upon me. 1 shall refuse to see you — "And I shall have nn.vh pleasure in kicking him. if necessary." muttered Beddington under his breath. " Or to hold any communication, .with you. Good bye. V. BRANDON.” ”'i es. 1 think that'll do." said Beddiugton. after scanning i: critically. "Now. come along.” She drew her veil abou. her face, ami together they passed out of the room-Mrs. Brandon carrying the child. To the man servant Beddington carelessly explained that the lady would not wait ant longer, nut had left a note for Mr. Vrswiek. The man called a cab. and they got in and drove away. • I've taken a great risk in this matter." said Beddington. after a long silence. "You see. no self-respecting man or woman likes to be discovered acting- foolishly: it isn't in human nature that they should. But. if you’ll let me. I want to tell you this; that in the future I shall forget all about this night, and. when 1 think of you—as I must do, very, very often—l shall think of you as 1 have always known you. except on this one occasion. You’ve gone back to your pedestalonly somehow the pedestal is stronger »rxl broader than it was before—and I think it will last. And perhaps you'd better forget all that nonsense about niy having been in love with you, be“Indeed. I would not forget it for the world. You've been very good to me to-night. Dick, and very merciful; I won't forget it. I’ll try to be something like what vou imagine; I’ll make a fight fo- it. Do you believe me?" For answer, he took her hand, in the darkness of the cab. and gave it a squeeze in both his own. And at ♦he same moment she felt him slip I plain smooth ring on her finger. (The Eml.)