' A SUCCESSFUL MAN '

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIV, Issue 17, 26 April 1906, Page 23

' A SUCCESSFUL MAN '

1 Gaxth hath net anything to show more fair. ' than Rostrevor on a summer eve, when the sun, ' trailing clouds of glory ' as he goes, transforms the shining waters <of the lough to Hoods of living gold or gjlowing ruby, each tiny sail thereon catching the hues of splendor ; Clouj^hmore rising from its wooded base a grey, lonely peaic against the radiant sky. in this romantio spot Herbert Grey and his fair young bride had elected to spend their honeymoon. At present Grey was bulking rather largely in the public eye as one of the leading men of a new colony, where r by a clever stroke of commercial enterprise, he had achieved an enormous fortune. He had come back to Britain to be lionised, feted, and nattered in a style that made him look back with a curious thrill to days when he had not always had enough to eat, and' had wandered a friendless lad through Glasgow's streets in ■seardh )o$ employment. Under the searchlight of critical investigation, he revealed not a scrap of side or arrogance ; he was found to be straightforward and unassuming, with the frank geniality of the colonial embroidered, so to speak, on the sturdy sell-reliance of the Scot ; and the one made an admirable background for the other. Fashionable and ' society ' journals had fcjeen provided with abundance of ' copy ' by his marriage with Madge Moncrieff, whose family, though poor, was very old and proud. Those persons who always sneer at the successful man opined that Grey would be posing as an aristocrat himself, and going in for a peerage ; and they related tales of his early struggles with an air tefi implying, that it would have been more #o hrs credit had he remained in poverty-stricken obscurity. They; were also in a position to state that his marriage had tdeen made by Miss Moncrieff' s scheming mother, who had simply sold her daughter *to the highest bidder, a proceeding from which only misery could result. They might, perhaps, have thought that that prediction was being fulfilled if they had been able, at this moment, to see into the room where Madge was sitting in pensive solitude. She was realising that it io a solemn, strange, and perilous thing for a woman to become a wife. More intimate knowledge of Mr. Grey's qualities and characteristics might produce liking and esteem, but the splendid dreams of young romance were over. She was married to a man of whom she knew very little, for whom she felt rather fear than lcve. Her -consolation was in the belief that marriage is a scarament, and that God would give her grace to do her duty. There was an interruption— swift and rather heavy steps, and a, smothering embrace, from which she extricated herself to gaze upon a lady with close-cropped hair, a sunburned face crowned by a hard felt hat and surmounting a ' mannish ' collar and tie ; and she recognised Flora Winthorpe, a former schoolmate, who lived apart from her husband, and had made herself somewhat notorious of recent years by the liberty, not to say license, she permitted her tongue and pen. From press and plattorm, she advocated ' Woman's Rights,' tha chief of them being, in her view, the right to dissolve the marriage tie for any reason whatsoever. She was an old friend, however ; and Madge's heart was casting Itself upon ,the past lor comfort. IMy dear girl, what a tiny place the world is ! ' cried Flora. ' OFalncy us both selecting Rogtrevor for our summer sport ! Congratulations ! And please show me your very own husband. * Mr. Grey is out,' said Madge. And Flora shrieked.: ' Don't you know him well enough to call him by his Christian name, you little silly ? ' As Madge colored and locked down with brimming eyes, she added assuagitigly : « Dearest, what is the matter ? Aren't you happy ? Is he a brute ? For love of Auld Lang Syne' 'trust me, and I'll socn straighten the tangled threads.' At times silence is a prison from which we long to escape ;• Mqidge, moreover, was toiuched by Flora's solicitude. 1 I have nothing to complain of but my own ridiculous fancies," she said. "No doubt I ask too much from life, more than it has to »give, and I should be well content with "being the object of a sensible man's care an ß courtesy.'

'Is courtesy a non-de-plume for- indifference ? On» doesn't; associate the former with a self-made man you know. But isn't yours the ideal love-match you ever vowed to make V ' Circumstances are stronger .than schoolgirl vows Flora. Mine was a " marriage arranged." On the one hand, mamma with so many daughters and. debts and so little money ; on the other, Mr. Grey with his vast fortune and his ambition for social success I dared not interpose my personal feelings between their plans. Now— well, now I wonder how I could marry a man who was content to take a wife for such reasons and on such terms.' 1 At least you can spend his money, and that's always a pleasant pastime. I want you both to dine with me on Friday. Your aborigine can eat with hi* knife, put his feet on the table, or have a bone on the mat, just as he prefers. My house is Liberty Hall. I promise you a feast fit for emperors. 1 'Not on Friday surely!' smiled Madge. ♦ Hadft'fc you better choose another day ?' 'What's the matter with Friday? Good gracious child, you don't mean to say that you Uing to those silly old superstitions yet ? You are far behind the times, it is many a day since I ceased to believe in God and the fables they told us at school.' Madge winced and shuddered. 1 What would you say of a person who bared an arm hideous with sores and ulcers, and thrust it under your eyes V she asked. ( ' I should say the person did a disgusting and offensive thing, 1 declared Flora trenchantly. 'Why'' 1 > You have just done it to me,' said Madge ; and the other woman colored, paused, shrucu;ed her shoulders and rejoined : ' I grasp your meaning. Well, I won't exhibit iry spiritual ulcers to you again, and you shall fast on Fr-rday to your heart's content. But on (Thursday I'll hope to see you and your new acquisition.' Shortly after her departure Herbert Grey came in, —a tall and sinewy man, with a shapely dark head' deep blue eyes, and well-cut bronzed features The contraction of his fine black brows was a new development, and to Madge's timid perceptions kdicated temper. What had roused his wrath, t,ne wondered. ' Mrs. Winthorpe called,' she said. < I .'on't lnow whether you have heard of her or not—' ' Most people have, it strues me,' he interjected dryly ; and Madge reddened at his tone, adding rattier nervously : ' She has invited us to dine with her on Thursday.' ' Which gives you the trouble of decliniu-z, of course.' 'No, indeed : I accepted. She is an old frleni,' said Madge ; at which her husibani lookud ut btr, witb darkening eyes and set, stern ups. ' Nevertheless, I distinctly forbid you to co to her house. Whatever she may have been, s*ie is iot now a person with whom I can permit my wife to associate. Your aborigine is not wholly devoid o£ selfrespect.' Madge stared at him until understanding came to her with a touch of scorn. ' So, like Dickens' Marchioness, you take limited views af society through the ke> holes' of Coots?' she said. 'I paid listener's toll, I grant," ne answered. 'Neither of you heard me come in, and at first I did not realise that your conversation was private I got away as quickly as 1 could, but not before I had heard enough to be pleased that my ears, .in-1 jk»e a servant's, were regaled with your confidences. Herbert's tone and manner suddenly i hanged the coldness and hardness of both melting away. ' ' Look here, Madge ! I did not, and do not. care a brass button for social success. What I sought was love, sympathy ; someone to protect and cherish, to share alt i had and make it "worth the (having ; my whole heart went out to you at our first meeting. You did not lead me on I grant : you were proud and cold, and held yourself aloof from me. (But your mother knew that 1 loved you ; knew, ' too, that I would not consciously marry a girl that despised me. She led me to believe that you liked me but were too shly to show your feelings ; and she warned me against i being too demonstrative. Ah— well, the thing is done ! But I think your side has the best of the bargain, 'lhey have got all they asked. I wanted love, &nd have not event received liking.'

Madge rested her head on her hand, pressing down her eye-lids with cold lingers, lest the tears should escape. Grey suspended his uneasy promenade of the room, and looked at her more mildly, saying : 4I am sorry if I spoke harshly. It , is true you dealt me a blow, but I should not have hit back so roughly. Perhaps the term Mrs Winthorpe applied to me ia appropriate enough.' ' You are wrong in supposing that I despised you,' Madge faltered. ' I have misunderstood you. I did not know you cared for me.' 1 All the same I shall not force my society upon you,' he sai<d hastily. ' There's a lot of me, but it isn't all brute, and I shall not inflict myself on you unduly. Of course 1 can't and don't withdraw my objection to your intimacy with Mrs Winthorpe.' Consequently Madge sent a polite note to that lady, expressing", conventional regrets that, owing to other arrangements, the invitation could not be accepted. The summer days went by, with new constraint on either side. It might be that Grey regretted having laid bare his heart. Fits of abstraction and unrest grew upon him, until Madge began to suspect that at the back of his mind was some trouble not connected with herself— some secret anxiety that was gradually stealing the healthy color from the strong, resolute lace Should she ever Le bold enough to mvite his confidence. Jb'lora was not so easily shaken oft as Madge had expected, but presented herself on a second occasion in a distinctly less amiaftie mood. fc>he had recognised Madge's excuse to be a polite fiction, she said ; but all should ixa forgiven it another evening were appointed for the visit. And, thus, driven to bay, Madge was forced to state that there never would be a time when she and her husband could accept Mrs. Winthorpe's hospitality. Flora set her teeth and breathed hard. 'That is his doing, of course!' she said angrily. 'He is a pretty censor of aniy one's manners or morals, I'm sure ! Has he ever told you he has been in prison ? .The true reason of his not permitting you to visit me is that he is afraid that I may enlighten you as to his past career. 1 have friends in th(/ colony who told me all about him. You deserved a better fate than to be married to an ex-jail-bird.' 1 I think you must not call on me again,' said Madge quietly, though her heart was throbbing and her brain swimming ; and Flora departed with an air of shaking unworthy di-st forever from her shoes. 1 Something; Us worrying you,' Grey remarked, later in the day, as he and his young wile walked along the road that winds through sun and shadow to Killowen. ' You i ' may as well tell me what it is, for neither of us will be at peace till you do.' Disclaiming belief in Mrs. Winthorpe's accusation, she repeated l't to him, and with quickening pulse saw a glow of color climb to his temples. 1 I didn't expect to have that brought against me,' he said with a stranee laugh. • Well, all the talk in the world can't alter fact, or make me other than I am ; and if I give you the truth of .the tale, it is because you have a right to know it now — not because the malice of spiteful tongues disturbs me, nor in order to pose before you as anything better than I am. I have a newspaper account of the proceedings somewhere. I am going to Belfast) to-morrow on special business, amcl you can read the account of my — or — villiany at your leisure Then surely it may rest in peace.' How eagerly Madge scanned the columns of the Umbuwayo Gazette which Herbert had unearthed from his writing-desk ere he departed on his mysterious business ! From the flimsy, fa^ed pages she learned that Mr. Grey, alter having been remanded on a charge of assaulting a leading citizen, was ■brought up for the hearing of further evidence. He had not only pleaded guilty, but had cheerfully expressed his Intention of acting in the same way under similar circumstances anywhere ; the said circumstances being that .the said citizen had brutally ill-treated ' a sickly "blind child. The prisoner had been dismissed with an admonition against taking the law into his own hands, and was then escorted home by an enthusiastic crowd, "which sang " Scots whae hae wi' Wallace bled !' around his dwelling. The warm 'gflow which passed through the girl's veins as she read the tale ended in tears, half of pain, half of pride. What !had he found to Hike in her,— he who had taVen up the harp of life and struck from' its chords the strain heroic ? JShe counted the hours which must elapse before his return, and watched the arrival of each car with

eager, hungry eyes. When at length he did appear, he looked so haggard and careworn, so mourntully subdued, that she was frightened. What evil had. betallen him? Hex trembling 'laps "could scarcely frame the question : | Herbert, what has happened ?' 'How amrl to tell you?' He sat down wearily, his arms outflung on the table before him. ' The result of the South African crisis is that lam a ruined man." 1 i am very sorry ! ' How impotent, how inadequate the words, yet she could find no others ! ' Yes, it is hard on you Madge. I feel that I have wronged you ; but, as I live here, and hope to live nereaiter, JLjhad no tore warning ot tins, it has been as sudden as lightning and as disastrous. 1 went to Belfast to meet my agent in the hope of hearing that the crash could be averted, or that some spar might be saved from the wreck. No use, no use ! It is all gone ! ' She looked at his dejected profile turned to the fading light. The lake glittered silvery calm and still ; the trees cast black shadows on the broad white road ; sounds of music and ot" voices outside had ceased. They two seemed alone in the world. 1 would have expected such a man as you are to take a thing like this m a different spirit,' she murmured, unsteadily, nervously. wo. 7 «W/« W /i ant *,° J^H U in the ri S ht spirit,' he answered, May God's holy will be done ! 'Amen! You are young, Herbert, strong, sound in mind and body. If life or brain were- failing courage well might give way, though never faith and'hope. But you have what wealth cannot buy. You said once that it is the man who goes on trying who is the hero, who is your ideal.' ' Well, : mean to go on trying,' he said, waving that issue aside. ' I don't care a straw about myself but for you it is entirely different. It is the thought of you that brings me near heartbreak.' 1 But why, Herbert,— why ?' she said. His lip quivered ; he bent his head upon his hands, but gave no other answer. She resumed more pleadingly, more persuashely : 'J. am not /realty «extr a vacant, though I may seem so. Costly things do not give me happiness. Have you forgotten how poor I was when you married me ? I will do my utmost to be a help to you and I know that I shall find a way." Startled, flushed with amaze, waves of doubt of hope, of bewildering joy chasing each -other in ouick succession through his heart, he looked upon her not trusting himself to speak. ' ISo little is lost when the best remains,' she whispered. l O Herbert, all -'I want on earth is you!' She was kneeling beside him, her head upon his breast ; and he held her hand against his lips which trembled more and more. ' My beloved wife !' be breathed. Outside the shadows of night were deepening more and more, but through its clouds there broke a million stars. And through the cloud of adversity the radiant star ot lovtj had broken, never to grow dim or faint or cold.— Aye Maria.