Serial Story. AN ITALIAN ROMANCE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVIII, Issue XXI, 24 May 1902, Page 998

Serial Story. AN ITALIAN R OMANCE.

CHAPTER VII. THE SECRET UNVEILED Arthur, unusually for him, went out early one morning to see after some business connected witii the sale of one of his pictures. Gioja had betaken herself to the window looking over the Thames, and was beguiling away the time with working and singing to herself, when a knock at the door brought in her maid with a letter, as she said, for the “Signor,” which had been left by a man shabbily dressed, and which he had said was important. Gioja took the letter in her hand, and at sight of the handwriting her colour left her and she trembled violently, for in it she recognised the same writing as of the fatal letter in Italy. She turned it over and over in her hand. Should she keep it and give It to Arthur, or open it and perhaps be able to act on its contents so as to save him worry and trouble; on the other hand, in giving it him she might be able at last to get him to confide to her the secret that eteariy weighed down his life. This latter decision was. indeed, forced on her, for while stilldebating it in her mind, the door (lew open, and in came Arthur, callmo- to her cheerfully to come to the studio, but on seeing her sitting there pale and trembling with a letter in her hand, his face changed and he miieklv and tenderly as.ced her what ailed her. then snatched the let.e from her hand, and on seeing the writing shook ali ov r like an aspen leaf, and would have thrust it m his pocket, when Gioja rose and in pleading terms said: •Mv \rthiir, t n:mgh of all this mt sterv. Whatever sad secret this letter may divulge, le me hear it; what is the use of your wife, who so ten derlv loves you. if she may not sl j art sadness as well as joy with you. led me. tell me all. 1 entreat you. nothing can ever come between ns so lor.o- as we trust eaeh other. V-thur paused for a moment, then pressing her hand lightly, m a hoarse voice, said, " And what, ( ’ioja, if voiir husband co fesses to von that in self-defence he had caused the death of a man, and .hat if ever it came before a court ot law, tne evidence would go against linn, ami Imight be committed tor trial fol murder. This is what I have kept Hmm vou, and the secret which has been torturing me all these weeks. |;„t vou believe me innocent, my Goa. ;,<> V ou not?" and here he held I,er from him so as to gaze into her 'es to see what effect this sad «.,<! story had on her, and her look Of tender pity reassuring him, he s tid " Sit here close to me, and i li’tdl vou ail from tile beginning. \nd he then related to her all that had taken place, and how he hau thought that no one could nave a y (•<)'» uizanee that in aip wav i< implicated in Pietro’s death; but that evidently some one was on his track. :1S he had had a letter at 1 e ™M a - "Yes my Arhur,” Gioja whispered, ■ ■ | k now of that letter, and must now make my confession that 1 pick e,| its pieces up and put them t „,. |h( . r after you left Rome, and >t was seeing from it that peril awaited vou made me fly to you here to be with vou whatever may betide " But,” she continued, " there is a ..■rent mystery in it all. >'o one ?aw your tight, so how can th.-y implicate you in his death? "J 1 " can be on your track? I he stick having been found seems insufficient evidence. There must be someone who knows more tnan we imagine. What does this letter say'?’ Aim. taking it out of his hand, she read as follows: Signor, if you wish cour stick returned to you come this Evening at six to No. 7, Bloomsbury

Road, where the possessor of it wants to see you. ne is very ill, and wishes to make a confession to you.” Arthur at once jumped up, and, looking at his watch, saw it was five, and said he would go off at once, but Gioja stopped him by placing her hand softly on his arm, and said, “ No, no, my Arthur, you shall not go; who knows that it may not be a trap to do you some harm. 1 have no fear, as they can bear me no grudge. 1 will put on a long cloak and envelop my face in a veil an I go in your place. ho, not a word, as he tried to entreat her not to go "I shall be off at once and will li.ar all the writer has to say whether it be good or bad.” So saying, she kissed Arthur tenderly, he calling out to her to take her maid, whieh she assented to, and before many minutes had elapsed they both appeared completely disguised in cloaks and veils. An omnibus soon transported them close to their destina-

tion. they then descended and made their way through a narrow street, at the end of which was Bloomsbury Road, ami a few steps brought them to No. 7, a small dingy house, the door of which, half off its hinges, stood ajar. Gioja telling her maid (who gave vent to many fervent ejaculations to the Saints, praying for their protection in the deserted spot) to wait, outside, boldly walked in. and making her way up a creaking staircase, gave a gentle knock at the door on the landing. A feeble voice said. “ Entrate.” and on going in she found herself in a poor attic containing no furniture but a bed and table and chair. Lying on the bed was a man whose features she could not see by the dim light which the dirty windows afforded. But at the sound of his voice inquiring who was there and what she wanted, Gioja’s start of surprise can hardly be described at recognising in P Hie voice of Pietro, whom she believed to be dead. “ \\ bat." sh" said, “ Pietro, is it your are you alive? All mourned vou as dead; some terrible accident was said to have befallen you.

Is it a dream, and is it really you Tell me what all this mystery is?”

The sick man raised himself, and, looking into her eyes, said, “ Yes, Gioja, it is I, but it was not you 1 expected to see this evening, but your husband, for, Gioja, you see here a dying man, and I have a confession to make; sit here and I will tell you all; tell me why you have come instead of him? ”

“ 1 feared some trap for him,” Gioja replied; “ I knew he had been followed and watched by someone, whom I never guessed was you, for some time past, and that his whole life has been affected by it, so I was determined to come myself and have the mystery unravelled; so, Pietro, I beseech you, tell me all.” “ Gioja.” he answered, “it is well for you and for your husband that 1 am dying, for else i-.e curse 1 ever meant to cling to you, and the revenge I had determined to pursue to the bitter end for his having taken you from me, woul l never have ceas-

ed as long as life was in me. ' should have so acted that you would have been compelled to believe that you had given yourself to a murderer. See, here, this stick,” so saying. he drew from under the bedclothes a stick whieh Gioja at once recognised as Arthur's, and at the sight of it her heart sank with fear as to what she might have to hear. “ Go on. go on. Pietro,” she said, “let me know the worst; what, o tell me, what did occur.” Pietro then, in a low voice, recited nil that had taken place; how it was he who had assaulted Arthur, and how. in the struggle, he had slipped down the ravine, carrying Arthur’s stick with him. how Jie had rolled and rolled down into the roaring stream where, of course, he became unconscious, and, indeed, knew nothing more till he suddenly opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bank at a spot he had no recollection of, and, strange to say, with the stick still in his grasp. How long lie had lain there he could not say, and it took him some time to recover his sense; he was bruised and battered, but pulled himseif up with

great difficulty and made his way to a small cottage he saw a little way off, and so feeble was he that on reaching its threshold he had only strength to knock and then fall down in a faint. lae next thing he remembered was waking up io mid himself in a small bed in tlie cottage, and to the kindness and hospitality of its poor inmates he owed his life. On questioning them as to where he was they told him he was near Tivoli, many miles from his native village, the torrent having whirled him along in its career and deposited him finally in a meadow where the water expended itself over a great tract of land, and, getting absorbed in it, soon left him in saiety. Although he had been swept a iong distance, it had taken a very short space of time; so, though battered and stunned, he had escaped from drowning. On waking from his state of unconsciousness in the cottage, in which state he had been for some days, it was a long time before he could realise what had happened to him, and at first he lost the recollection of his own identity. But this, when at last he did come to himself, he resolved to keep quiet, as a plan of malice was forming in his mind. His one anxiety was to get hold of a country newspaper to see if there was any reference to his fate in it, but how was he to procure one; he was too weak to go himself to Tivoli, the nearest town. His entertainers were simply homely peasants and illiterate. and he had no money even to repay them what they had already spent on him. But one day fortune favoured him, the peasant had been

into the town and brought back a miscellaneous number of articles wrapped up in a dirty newspaper. Pietro’s eyes at once caught sight of it. and he eagerly- asked to see it, to the intense surprise of his host, who threw up his hands in amazement at anyone except a priest being able to read. Pietro scanned the paper through, and his eyes at last lighted on the following paragraph: "No clue has yet been found as to the fate of Pietro, and grave suspicion exists that he has met with foul play at the hands of an English signor, who left the next day after the tragedy. Three days after the beautiful Gioja to whom Pietro was betrothed, also left her home, and ghe lias been traced to a house at Rome, where the Englishman meets her, and it is clear means to marry her. No steps can be taken against him, as there is no real evidence that he was implicated in the matter.” These words matured Pietro’s plans, and a few days after he hade his rescuers farewell, saying* he could no longer he a burthen to them, and set out to make his way back to his village. Now that he

knew Arthur and Gioja were uot mere lie did uot uiiud returning; muevd, to carry out his plan, it was necessary lor nun to du so, as lie cculu uot accomplish it witliout money, and, independently of Uus, ue yearned to see ms tather again, as, whatever faults he had, he had always been a good son. It took him two days to reach his home, living through them by begging, and sleep ing at nights under tne hedge. lie approached his home softly on reaching it, then gently tapped at the door, and called "Padre.” The door Hew open, and his father, dazed with amazement, opened his arms and drew him to him, saying, "Is it you — is it you, Pietro? \v'e have mourned you tor the last three weeks.” Pietro then related all that had occurred, so relating it that there should be no doubt left as to Arthur being guilty, and showing the stick as a proof of what he said; but on his father rising in wrath, saying he would at once put the police on Arthur’s track, Pietro said he would not hear of this, as he had a scheme of his own he wanted to work out to procure Arthur’s condemnation, and also to revenge himself on him for having deprived him of Gioja. As he said, he, Pietro, being alive, the police could do nothing, and that all he wanted from his father was money to carry out his plan. This his father promised him, and after a few days spent in feasting and rejoicing, Pietro, with a full purse, set off again and made his way to Rome, and there set himself to find out where Arthur and Gioja were. He made a point each day of going to some of the spots they were most likely to frequent, but for some days was 'unsuccessful, till one afternoon, on the Pincio, fortune favoured him, as in the distance he saw them sitting on one of the stone benches, and he also saw that by going round and gently approaching them at the back, through the wood, he could gel near enough to hear what they were saving, and he indeed gained all the information he wished, for it was two days before their wedding, ami they were discussing their plans, and he gathered in listening the name of the hotel at Perugia where they were to go, also Arthur’s address in London and his plan of soon going there. All this fitted in with Pietro’s plans, but he was anxious for Arthur to go to London as soon as possible, as he

saw his way to revenge more easily there than in Rome, as he wished it to take the form of persistently dogging his footsteps, but at such a distance that Arthur should uot be able to recognise him clearly, yet sufficiently so for him to imagine he had seen a spectre. This he thought would either drive him to madness or self-destruction. Having concocted his diabolical plan, he waited a few days until the wedding and part of their honeymoon were over, and then wrote the letter to Arthur at

Perugia, which we have seen, warn ing him to leave Italy without delay he himself starting off for London th<

moment he had posted it. Once there he started on his system of revenge, and would have continued it till he had completely shattered Arthur's nerves if sudden illness had not overtaken him; then a sudden revulsion

of feeling and a wave of remorse swept over him. He felt he was dying. and could have no rest till he had returned the stick to Arthur and confessed to him the part he was playing, also a certain tender feeling he still retained for Gioja, though she had deserted him, much influenced him. Gioja listened to all he said with tears in her eyes, tears of joy at the dark cloud that had overshadowed her life being removed,

and tears of pity for the man dying before here eyes, who, whatever his crime had been, was devotedly attached to her. She leant over him gently, and, like a ministering angel, wiped his brow tenderly, asking him if he had any wish to confide to her. He then drew a small piece of paper from under his pillow, closely written, and gave it to her. “Let my father have this; it is well he should not see me again, though austere; he is an honourable man, and, if I had lived, for him to know T had acted so unworthy a part would have broken his heart. But as I am dying nothing matters. This paper tells him all, and it is important he should ha’e it so as to place it in the hands of the police in order that should you and your husband ever return to Italy there should be no danger of their accusing him even of the desire of taking my life. And now. my Gioja, farewell. I am going to the land of shadows. Say a prayer for one who for many years has forgotten what prayer is. and think in tender forgiveness of one who has sinned from loving you too much." So saying his head sank. and. holding her hand clasped in his, his spirit fled from whence it came.

Gioia quickly called in the maid, who had been pacing to and fro outside in great anxiety as to what her mistress was and when she came into the room and found herself in the presence of death she trembled so violently that she could hardly follow Gioja’s directions, which were to help her to nut in order the room and to remain there in charge while she went off to see a doctor. But to stay in the room Annette simply de-

clined, and all Gioja could obtain from her was a promise to stay just outside the door while she went on her quest. She was not gone long, and the doctor on seeing Pietro said his death was due to rapid consumption, and that no human pawer could have saved him. Gioja explaining to him that he was an Italian and a Cathol'c. lie undertook to see a priest and ask him to make all arrangements for the funeral, which Gioja said would Inpaid for by her; but that she was to be informed the day it was to be, so Hint she might attend it, Having settled all this she made her way silently home, where she found Arthur impatiently expecting her. She threw herself into his arms and gave him his long- lost stick, saying. “Aly Arthur, my Arthur! all is now cleared up. you have nothing now to fear, but why, oh, why, did you not confide in me? Why not have told me of the dire secret you had in you • breast? Surely you could have trusted in my love. But now all is over and nothing more must ever come between us.” She then related all that had taken place, and Ari bur’s countenance cleared visibly as she went on, and he had recovered from his astonishment on hearing that Pietro had been so miraculously saved. but had now died. He clasped Gioja to his arms and, tenderly kissing her, said, “Gioja, Gioja, my angel of life, never, no never, more shall

there be a seeret or a eloud between us. What I have suffered all these months no one can know but myself. I wished to save you pain, but 1 was wrong; 1 should have trusted you, but never more shall anything come between us." Three days afterwards a silent funeral took place in the North London Cemetery, but the eotfin was strewn with Howers, and the priest intoned the sad service slowly and solemnly. Two mourners, Arthur ami Gioja. followed the coffin to the grave, and a short time after a small marble cro=s was erected over it with just Pietro’s name and age and the letters R.I.P. carved on it. They then returned to their home, and home was indeed full of love and peace. Arthur put llresh zeal into his work ami little by little rose up high in the artistic world. Gioja took her place in society and was more and more admired. A little daughter born to them promised to inherit her mother's beauty, ami was a fresh bond of union between them, and it would be difficult to find a happier or more united couple than Arthur and his Italian peasant wife. They often went to Italy, and Gioja never failed to visit her foster father and mother, also Pietro's father, and to

heap on them all that money could procure, and Arthur paid many a visit to his dear Father Thomas, telling him as he sat drinking his coffee on the l»eautifiil terrace of the monastery how all the clouds which had threatened to ship** reck his life had cleared away, ami of how Gioja was indeed the joy of his life. Gioja, you may In* sure, did not fail to visit the old fortune-teller, telling her all that had befallen her of sorrow and now of great joy, anti the old woman laid her hand gently on her head, saying. “You see I was right when I said fate would not belie your name, and your name lieing ‘Gioja' it could not fail to bring you joy-” (The End.)