Serial Story. [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] HER LAST ADVENTURE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVII, Issue XXII, 30 November 1901, Page 1014

Serial Story. [PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] HER LAST ADVENTURE.

By

ANNIE O. TIBBITS.

(Author of “What Came Between?” “Under Suspicion,” “Fighting a Lie," “Beth Gwv ” “The Shadow Between,” etc., etc.)

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER XX. RENE’S LETTER. Rene’s letter began abruptly. “Ry the time you get this I shall be far away. I hope—out of your reach, out of your sight for ever! I have a great deal to say to you, and it will take a long time, but T must go to-night or to-morrow at latest, and von must know everything before I do. “I will try to tell you the whole story of my life from the beginning until now, so that you will know why T am going—why I ean never be your wife. When you have read this you will not wish it. When you know what I am you will wish you had never seen me. but, oh, Chris, for God’s sake try not to think too badly of me. I never meant to be There was a time, not very long ago, when T was as simple and innocent as your own sister, and for the sake of what 1 was once pity me, Chris! “I cannot remember my own mother. She died when I was born, and three years afterwards my father married again—a woman many years his junior, a fragile, delicate, nervous woman, who it was thought was almost dying of consumption. “She did not die, however. She grew stronger as the months passed, and when my stepbrother was born she seemed to alter suddenly and become almost, robust.

“She was of a kindly, gentle nature, and treated me like her own child, even after she had one of her own. “In those days we were rich, and lived in a great house in Kensington, but all of a sudden my father made some unlucky speculation, and then things began to change. “We moved from Kensington to a smaller, shabbier house in Bayswater from that to another even more shabby, and so downwards, and then I was sent to school in the country. “For nearly six years I remained there-—until I was sixteen—and then suddenly I was sent for.

“My father had met with an accident. and was dying. Of course they did not tell me so, but I can remember when I spoke of coming back that the governess looked at me in an odd pitying way. She knew that there was no hope—she knew that T should never come back.

“I reached Bayswater at the close of a dull, dreadful autumn day. It was getting foggy. Everything looked gloomy and wretched, and as we drove up it seemed to me. th at thhouse in which we lived looked more hopeless, more miserable than ever. It bore an unmistakable impress of poverty. The paint was peeling off the door: the little front garden was choked with weeds, and—more hopeless feature than any—the Venetian blinds hung brokenly' and unevenly in the dirty windows. “I shivered ns I passed up the little gravel path. Something cold seemed to touch me as a dirty servant opened the door to me. She was not the one " h<> had been there during my last holidays, and she stared at me. with hard, curious eyes. “I was taken almost immediatelv to my father’s room. My mother, redeyed ami thin and white, came out to fetch me. She broke down hopelessly w hen she saw me. ”‘lt's no use, Rene!’ she cried. 'lt will l>c all over in a little while—oh.

Dick! Dick! Oh, Rene, what shall we do?’ "When she was a little quieter we went in. My father was lydng on his back very' still, very' strange. I remember 1 scarcely recognised him. He had always been a big, strong, happyhearted man, and had never had a day's illness in his life.

“Now he was thin and white, and seemed suddenly small and sunken amongst the pillows. “He frightened me. I stood staring, dazed and horror-struck, until at last he roused and stretched out a feeble hand to me.

“‘ls.it you, Rene?’ he asked. ‘God bless you, child—my poor child!’ “He tried to clasp my hand, but his lingers were too weak. I knelt down at his side sobbing, with my head on his shoulder, and then he tried to speak again, but his voice had become suddenly husky and incoherent, and I only caught a little of what he said. “ ‘You will be quite alone, my little Rene—you and mother and Paul. You must try to take care of them for me. It will be hard at first, perhaps, Rene, but you are growing up quickly now. and you will soon learn. Some day. if I had lived, you would have been my right hand, my little girl!’ “My mother sobbed helplessly' in a corner of the room. Father knew’ how helpless she was—how unpractical and unfitted for a tussle with the world, and he was almost afraid to die and leave her.

“ ‘There will be very little money, Rene,’ he went on slowly, ‘oh, very little, my child. But there will be the insurance, and perhaps old Hardcastle will know best what to do with it for mother and you. Paul will be able to take care of himself by-and-by r . He is a boy. But you — poor child, poor mother!’ “I saw' his face grow' worried and strained, and I caught his hand. “ ‘Oh, we shall do very well, father,* I cried. ‘I shall know how to take care of mother—oh, I promise you I will take care of mother!’

“He smiled up at me—oh, I can scarcely write now for remembering that he called me ‘his brave child!’ His brave child! And I have been anything but brave! And mother—■ and Paul! Oh, the care I took of you!

“And yet I was only sixteen, and I could never remember a child’s life. There was always the shadow at home—the growing poverty, the gradual, gradual downward growth! I think I was old before my time. At sixteen I was quiet and subdued, and thoughtful beyond my years. But afterwards the never-ending poverty, the constant strain to make both ends meet, crushed all the spirit out of me.

“It was so different with my stepbrother Paul. Nothing ever seemed to crush him. Even when father was dying 1 can remember hearing his voice below—shouting some song while he trundled a wooden horse along the floor. He was thoughtless. He never meant to be cruel. He was only thoughtless.

“Father died that night, and in the morning we were face to face with life with not a soul to help us. We had no friends. As they had sunk downwards father and mother had gradually lost sight or all their old acquaintances. Father was a proud

man, and shrank from them, and mother’s only relative had died some

time before. “The only friend whose advice we could ask was an old lawyer named Hardcastle. He had charge of what little money father left, and it was through his advice that we took a little boardinghouse in a small side street just off Bayswater Road. "It was not a large house, but much better than the one we had been living in, and there for five years we struggled on, sometimes doing fairly well, sometimes doing badly. I kept file books, and took nearly all the management on my own shoulders. Mother knew so little. She was only fitted to sit at the head of the table and look pretty, and entertain the visitors. She was always gentle and smiling, and always vainly ambitious, and proud of being what she termed a lady. Poor mother! 'During those five years we managed to educate Paul, and when he was seventeen one of the visitors managed to get him into a bank. It was a godsend to us. We were so proud and delighted and happy when it was decided. Oh. I am heartsick to think of it now.

“We hoped it would steady him down—he was so wild and careless and thoughtless, and for six months he seemed to get on well. Then something happened.

"While I was at. a concert—oh, I think I have forgotten to tell you that I had studied music. After we took the boardinghouse an old German professor hearing me play one day volunteered to give me lessons. They should be free, he said, and he begged so that mother consented at last. I was worth it, the professor declared, and for five years I went to him twice a week, practising in all my spare moments, working hard until at last he really had cause to be proud of me, and he began to get me to accompany him at. concerts, and finally I got some small engagements myself, sometimes for concerts, sometimes for small dances and ‘at homes.’

“When I was at one of these—a concert given at a small hall in Bayswater —a man came up to the professor and touched him upon the shoulder.

“He looked like a foreigner. He was tall and graceful—a handsome man. then, with black eyes, and a heavy black moustache, and with a diamond flashing on his white hands. “He was the man you know now as Watson Ross, but he had no beard then, and he called himself Captain Carlisle.

“1 was introduced to him when the oncert was over, but something

seemed to tell me —something that was like a foreboding—as his eyes met mine, that there was evil in store for us through that man, that his life and mine were In some way to be linked together, and I shrank from him.

“He was wonderfully handsome. Even while I hated him there was something about his face that fascinated me in spite of myself. His dark eyes, his strange smile—-there was never a man who could smile as he smiled —almost bewildered me. As he bowed over my glove and looked up into my face I felt an odd, sickening sensation pass through me —a feeling as if I had been mesmerised, and I clung to the old professor’s arm as if he was the only protector I had in the world.

“ ‘You must make good friends with the Captain, Gretchen,’ he said as we walked homewards. ‘He is rich—oh, so rich! And handsome! There are no words for it, child, he is very handsome.’

“ ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ I said, bluntly. ‘I don’t like him!’ “‘Not like the Captain?’ He turned and peered at me with his little grey eyes. ‘Why, you are a strange girl, Gretchen. All the ladies were in love with him when I saw him in Germany, three years ago. They were all begging for bits of his hair, Ach Himmel! they were foolish girls!’ “ ‘I hate a man like that,’ I said again. ‘I hate a woman’s man.’ "His eyes twinkled a little.

" ’Well, well, Gretchen,’ he said— Gretchen was his pet name for me ’You are an odd girl. But you should make friends with the Captain. He may be useful to you. He is rich, and money is a good thing to have in this world.’

I knew that bitterly enough. But somehow the meeting with the Captain had had a strange effect on me. It had made me suddenly bad-tem-pered.

“ "What do you know of this Captain ?’ 1 asked. ‘How much do you know?’

He shrugged his shoulders.

“ ’Ah, Gretchen, you are determined to find some hole in me, and, in fact, I do not know so much about him after all. Only at Munich three years ago he was the most popular man in the place. He had taken a big house in the very best part, and had everything in fine style, and then he was generous. People I knew there were loud in their praises of him. He was so kind-hearted, they said, and had gone much out of his way to help persons in distress—a most charitable, kind-hearted man and all Munich was anxious to make his acquaintance. Ah, yes, he was very rich, Gretchen, and if he is as rich now he may help you a great deal if he takes a fancy to you!’ “I felt a cold thrill pass through me. I hoped with all my heart that he would not take a fancy to me.

"Apparently Captain Carlisle did not think anything more about me, or my playing, for I did not see anything of him for two or three weeks, and I did not mention him to my stepmother. Somehow I was afraid. Somehow the look he had given me on the night of the concert terrified me. in spite of the admiration I had seen in his eyes.

“People told me I was a pretty girl. They all said so. But I did not know. I had had no time to think of it, but after Captain Carlisle stared at me with his dark eyes I looked at myself in the glass with a new feeling. Oh, Chris, my beauty has not brought me any good. When I found it out I was proud of it, but. oh. what would 1 not give to have been born ugly and plain!

“A fortnight after the concert I had almost forgotten Captain Carlisle.

but one afternoon when 1 came in my mother ran forward, her face all flushed and her eyes bright, to tell me that she had let the best bedroom and a dressing-room to one of the handsomest gentlemen she had ever seen —a tall and most graceful man —Captain Carlisle, and that he had made no dispute about the rent —had agreed to all she had asked. "My heart sank. 1 suppose some change showed itself on my face, for she looked at me in surprise. “ ‘But you are not pleased, Rene? she cried. ‘Surely notning can have happened—nothing unpleasant this aiternoon, was there, dear?’

“1 shook my head. “ ‘No, no, nothing,' 1 cried in a choking voice. ‘But what about this man?’

“ ‘Oh, a most delightful, liberal man!’ my mother declared. ‘Most gentlemanly, most charming. If only we could keep him! He said a few weeks, but we must do our best to persuade him to stay through the spring. It would carry us over the worst time of the year, until the season begins again!’ “She clasped her hands together, and looked up at me with such a bright face. “ ‘Oh, Rene, dear, there will be no difficulty about your new evening dress now. It is so necessary for you to have one—you must look well if you are to play in public—and we need not fear to spend the money now. I was so worried about it, too. I do so want you to have some of the good things of life —you and Paul!”

“I kissed her and turned away. Poor mother! She spoilt us both, and though I was only her step-child she scarcely made any difference between us. Perhaps in her heart Paul would always be first, but she tried her hardest not to show it. I think she had loved my father so much that she forgot everything but that I was his child with his eyes and hair.

“Paul was so different —so unlike her, and so unlike my father, too. He was quite fair, and his blue eyes seemed the only point of resemblance between him and mother. “He was so careless, too. He would do the most thoughtless things sometimes, and sometimes, too, he seemed to forget that we had to work hard for every penny we earned, but we were so fond of him that I think we did not mind. It was only afterwards that I . But let me go on. “The day after the Captain engaged the rooms he arrived with a cab full of luggage. To me it seemed as if he had brought enough to last twelve months at least.

“I watched listlessly through the dining-room window. Then I heard mother’s voice in the hall, and a minute afterwards she came in, followed by the Captain. “I saw the odd light flash into his eyes as he bowed to me. I felt that I had seen something lying behind his smile—something ugly and dark —and I watched him with hard eyes. “ ‘So T have found you again,’ he cried. ‘What a strange coincidence. It was fate evidently that guided my

steps. 1 cannot tell you how fortunate I consider myself.’ “He bowed again with a laugh. Mother was looking bewildered. “ ‘Why, Rene, you did not tell me,' she began, but Captain Carlisle waved his hand. “‘There was so little in it!’he said. ‘1 saw her playing at a concert, I recognised an old friend who was there, and asked him who she was. That was all!’ “I looked into his eyes. It may have been foolish, but I felt as if he was trying to get some secret understanding with' me. “ ‘You forget,’ I said, hastily. Professor Steinich introduced us!’ “He bowed again. “‘I am not likely to forget that.’ he said. “Something, not in his words, but his manner, made my face flush. I was irritated, annoyed, almost unnerved. “There was something so cool, so determined, so confident about him, that I grew even more frightened as the days went on. It was nothing tangible—nothing that I could speak of, and yet slowly but surely he began to get an odd sort of hold over me. Once I spoke vehemently to mother, but her eyes and ears were shut. She said nothing except what he wanted her to, and she could not understand what I meant. Besides, he had plenty of money, he paid well for his rooms; it would have been almost wicked to turn him away. “In those days I scarcely knew what I meant myself. Captain Carlisle seemed to take the greatest in-, terest in me. He went out of his way to do me kindnesses, and he showed endless sympathy with mother, and made friends with Paul. Then suddenly I realised that we had no one to rely upon—no one to help us—no man to stand by us. I had never thought of it before, but Paul always seemed a boy—thoughtless and heedless. and it never occurred to us to seek his help in anything. Now, with Captain Carlisle in the house, it came upon me with a rush that we were terribly alone and helpless.

“This winter, too, we were unfortunate. The house was almost empty, and we had lost money over some peo pie who left without paying. We were so crippled that I felt we dared not turn Captain Carlisle away, much as I would have liked to, and something which happened six weeks or so after he came made it almost impossible.

“When it was that he first began making love to me I scarcely knew, but gradually I became aware that his manner had altered. He began to bring flowers—at first apparently for mother, but later he made no secret of their being for me, and when 1 persisted in refusing them, instead of laughing and shrugging his shoulders, as he had done at first, he looked dejected and serious. "Why do you dislike me, Miss Trennant?’ he asked once. ‘I only wish to be friends with you. I want yon to think well of me.’ "I felt suddenly ashamed and sorry. Ah. Chris, I did not know’ him then.

I never realised, never dreamt —oh, God knows, if I had been firm and determined and turned him out at first the evil might not have come after all. Poor mother! And poor Paul, too, for he was only thoughtless at first. He never meant to be cruel.

One day, late in the afternoon, mother came to me. She looked eager and excited, and I knew at once that something unusual had happened. “She sat down with an air of nervousness, and looked up at me with shining eyes. She took up her needlework, but I could see that her hands were trembling. “I went up to her and knelt by her side. “ ‘What is it, mater?’ I said. ‘Something has happened, I can see.’ “She looked at me shyly. “ ‘Oh, nothing, nothing really, Rene, only—oh, Rene, why is it that you dislike Captain Carlisle so much?’ “I seemed to stiffen involuntarily but somehow I too grew’ nervous. “‘Dislike him?’ I repeated. ‘Oh, I I don’t know. Don’t let’s talk about him! ’ “She leant forward. “ ‘Oh, but, Rene, I want to—l must Something—something has happeneo Oh. Rene, he admires you very much he—he wants you to be his wife!’ “I started up. Something seemed to tell me at once then that what he wanted he would get. I trembled suddenly, and sat down again. “‘His wife!’ I cried. ‘His wife!’ “Things grew black and dim around me. The little room, the cosy fire; my white and dainty mother with her knitting- in her hands seemed to grow strangely indistinct. I felt myself grow cold to the lips. “‘His wife!’ I repeated hoarsely. 1 saw mother look at me; I saw a shadow- creep over her face, and a look of disappointment come into her eves.

“‘Do you feel it so much as that?" she asked. ‘Oh. Rene, what a pity it seems. He is so good, and it would help us so much. But not if you don't wish it, dear. Oh, my child, do you think your father would ever forgive me if I made you unhappy?' “I broke down suddenly. I put my head on her knee, and broke into a paroxysm of sobbing.

“I felt her kind soft hands on my head. Oh. poor, poor mother!

“She stroked my hair, and tried to lift my face. “ ‘But my dear, no one will force you to marry against your wish,’ she cried. ‘You cannot think I meant to do that! It was only that he seemed to care so much, and that if you mar ried him you would never fear poverty anv more.’

"She sighed a little. ‘lt was only that. Rene, dear, and he spoke to unto day. asking me if I thought von were beginning to like him a little better. He did not press it. He said nothing after that.’

“I lifted my head and tried t< think.

“ ‘What did you say to him?' 1 asked.

“ ‘I only said that you had never thought of him in that wav, dear.

that even though he was so kind, he was only a visitor after all. Then he sighed and went away, and oh. Item-. I think he feels it, and I believe he will ask you to marry him vet.’

“It was two days after that that a shock burst in upon us all. Paul came in early from the bank looking sullen and strange. "He had been peculiar at times lately, and subject to strange fits of nervousness and depression, but today he was worse than ever. "He came in, and, sitting down in a chair, stared hopelessly into the fire. His face looked old and haggard, ami all the brightness had gone. “Mother bustled away to order tea lor him, and I went up and looked into his set, worried face.

"‘What’s the matter, Paul?' I ask ed. "What’s gone wrong?’ "He looked up, and then stared fur tively round the room. Then he shiv cred and buried his face in his hands A sudden fear seized me.

" hat * s it?’ I cried again. 1 here s something wrong, Paul, I know, and you must tell me. If it is anything bad we must keep it from the mater. What is it, dear?’

"He shivered again. ""We can’t,’ he muttered hoarsely "She'll have to know, Rene. I’m dis missed from the bank!’

"'Dismissed, Paul!’ 1 cried. "Ob. .ton can't mean that. Dismissed! But what for? Oh, Paul, what for?' "He turned to me, and 1 saw that I here was a new look on his face—an

older, harder, more wretched 100 than he had ever had before.

•• "\\ by this?’ he said in a choking voice. I've forged a cheque for a hundred and fifty pounds, and they've found it out. confound it!’ "I caught my breath.

forgery! Paul, Paul, you can'! mean that. You don’t mean it! Paul, you can’t—you can't tell me that again!’

"But even as I spoke he looked nt me, and I knew that ft was true, and before mother came in again I knew the worst—that he was dismissed in any ease, but that if he could find a hundred and fifty pounds by the next morning the bank would not prose cute for the sake of the lady who had recommended him.

“I stared blindly at the bright, cosy fire. If seemed to mock me now with its cheerfulness. A hundred and fifty pounds! And we had not a hundred and fifty shillings to spare, and no means of getting it. “In my horror and despair it did not occur to me to wonder why be had done it. He must have known it would be found out. I did not know then that he was already* a confirmed gambler. "I sat dumbly while he drank his tea. wondering how we should be able to' get the money what we should do what we could tell mother. "Siu- sat looking so happy and con tented so proud of Paul that it sickened me to think of it. Her boy- a forger! Her only child a thief! “I tried to think, but my brain seemed on fire. All I could rememI er was that at that time to-morrow. i r the money was not paid, he would

Im- arrested as a thief, and mother’s heart would be broken. •‘At any cost something- must be done. Yet what could we do? We had no money —nothing to sell, no friends who would lend us any. Professor Steinich was a poor man, and probably had not a hundred pounds to his name, and I knew of no one else. No one! And yet

"My heart gave a sudden leap. 1 felt suddenly helpless, suddenly sick and hopeless. Oh, Chris, I can remember still the awful feelings I had as 1 stood up and looked at mother and Paul. Mother, whom my father had left to me to take care of, and Paul, who was going to break her heart. “I must do something to try and save her —even though it meant beg ging of a man 1 hated. ‘•1 went slowly out of the room. I was going to forge my own chains, I knew. 1 knew what it would mean if I asked a favour of him. 1 knew — I knew that there would be no more liberty for me. "I found him in the smoking-room alone. He was sitting in a big ehair by the fire with a newspaper. He looked terribly handsome. If only he had been uglier, I should have bated him less, I thought. "He sprang to his feet when he saw me. ••‘Miss Trennant?' he cried. ‘Oh. do come in. You are not going to turn away because you see me here by myself?’ “I hesitated. “ ‘No.’ 1 said. ‘I came on purpose to find you. I—l wanted to —ask you for something.’ “He made me sit down, and then somehow I told him. “When T had finished he looked at me with an odd expression on his face. “ ‘You know —you must know, that you would never ask me in vain for anything,’ he said. ‘Of course. T’ll help you. And as for paying me back, as von say. you must not speak of that.’ “He sat down and took out his cheque book. “ ‘lf you like.' he said. ‘l'll give you gold to-morrow, but if you do not mind a cheque here it is.’ “I felt the colour rush to my face. His generosity made me suddenly ashamed., Not a breath of suspicion touched me. It never occurred to me that he was not honest. I felt only gratitude. T would have done anything for him. ■‘ ‘Oh, how can I thank you?’ I cried. •What can 1 do to pay you back? It. will take a long time, and will only be slowly, even if Paul helps me; but, oh. if I could only do something—” " ‘You can,’ he said quickly. ‘There is only one way in which you can ever pay me back. Von ean guess what it is. I love you. Miss Trennant, and' I'd do anything to make you my wife.’ "I looked up at him and I tried my hardest to like him then, but I failed, as I failed always. “ ‘lf I could only love you.’ I cried. "He stretched out his hands to me. “‘lf you give me permission to try I'll make you,’ he said, confidently. "1 did not know what my reply was. but somehow he came back with me to our little sitting-room and announced our engagement at once. I shivered as he did it. I opened my lips to deny it to refuse, but mother looked so astonished and delighted that I could not. "'Oh. Rene, Bene. you hypocrite!"

she cried. 'Why, only the other day 1 could have declared that she detested you, and now to think of it!’ “I saw a sudden, ugly look flash across Captain Carlisle’s face, but it was gone in an instant. He only bowed and smiled at mother. ‘Ah. I have got to make her care,’ he said, and somehow it seemed to me that there was an ugly suggestion in his words. They frigtened me, he always frightened me, and yet somehow during the next few weeks he managed to lull all my fears to sleep. “He was kindness itself. He never forgot the slightest thing, and he was so careful of mother, and seemed to think so much of her that I began to be grateful and thankful in spite of myself. “We kept the cheque business a secret from mother. Paul went out next morning as if he was going to the bank. Captain Carlisle said it would be best for him to pretend to go there every day and meanwhile to try and find something else to do. I thought it would be best too. It was the very first piece of deceit I was ever guilty of, and now, even though it seemed right then, it is to me like a milestone in my life. "We were to be married early in the spring, and mother was delighted. She was to sell the boardinghouse and take a little villa at the seaside, or somewhere in the country, and we were to come to her when we were tired of travelling about. "Captain Carlisle was going to settle ten thousand pounds on me, and somehow it was suggested that mother and he should both beinsured. He did not think it necessary for me to be insured, as mother’s money would come to me, he said, and I could leave it to whom I pleased. “So we—mother and I—went to an insurance office, and mother was insured for £lO,OOO. "If we had been men, or had any real experience of life, perhaps we should have been afraid. But mother was blind to everything. Captain Carlisle was perfection in her eyes, and I was too grateful for what he had done for Paul to feel any doubt.

“Paul meanwhile seemed to knownothing. He seemed rapidly drifting away from us all. We scarcely saw anything of him nowadays, and somehow mother was too excited over ma to feel any suspicion about him. "We were married—Watson and l—early in April. Oh. Chris, what will you say when you learn that the man who was murdered in the Walden wood was my husband! I meant never to tell you, but somehow I must, and I am doing my best to tell you everything. I want you to knowall that is possible—oh, Chris, you do not know what it costs me to tell you this. Chris, Chris, forgive me’*' (To be continued.)