THE MOCKER.

White Ribbon, Volume 37, Issue 435, 18 October 1931, Page 1

THE MOCKER.

(Continued ) CMAITKR XI. The mdrning following the Tennis Ball, Mrs Moore went softly up the stairs of her homo. (juietly she opened her daughter's bedroom door and peeped in. iTomo in, mother,” said Phyllis, holding out her arms. “Have I overslept shamelessly?” ‘‘No, dear,” answered Mrs Moore, muc h relieved to see a groat d< al of the exh.tasted look gone from her daughter’s face. “But, Phyllis, the post has come, and there Is a letter for you I thought I would bring it up dear, and 1 will leave you awhile to read it. Pall if you need me. I will be in my loom next door.” hr pis sd thf lettei in Phyllis's hand and went out, closing the door behind her. Left alone, Phyllis glanced at the letter, and received a distinct shock to soe Billy's handwriting on the en velope. For a moment she hesitated, then opened the envelope, and straightening out the closely-written sheets, commenced to read. As she read, her mobile, expressive face mirrored many successive emotions, —disgust, anger, sorrow, —but before she had finished the last sheet she wore a calm, peaceful expression, and appeared not unhappy, although her clear grey eyes were misty with unshed tears as she raised them to murmur. "Thank you, dear (»od; have us all In Thy loving keeping.” For a while she sat quietly thinking, then she remembered her mother waiting anxiously in the next room, and hastily slipping on bm* dressing gown, she went into Mrs Moore’s sitting room.

"Just read it, mother,” she said giadl>. "1 want you to know all, a id then you will understand all." This is what Billy had written: — “My dearest, — “When you receive this 1 shall have passed on to take my chance in the next world, or wherever v.e poor mortals go when our time here is done, or when, like myself, we find life too much for us and cut loose. “No doubt, whilst I am writing this, you are wondering what has happened to me. I have given Mrs Lay ley the rest of the day off and locked myself in this room to write to you and try to make you understand the reason for what I am about to do to-night. No doubt you will say, at first, 'His brain was unhinged.’ but I assure you, Phyllis, that 1 am as sane as you, and that what I do I do while sound of mind and after mature deliberation. "It is unnecessary for me to tell you just all you are and have been to me. Suffice it to say you are my life, and when first I won your love 1 thought we would live in heaven, hut alas! for the past few months I have l>een living in hell itself! And all owing to one wicked woman! For there is no hell for a man like loving one woman entirely and yet >**ing under the thumb of another You will have guessed 1 am writing of Kona. For some reason or other she chose to honour (?) me with her affection! When our engage ment was announced, she vowed to herself to come !>etween us (all this she has told me since) by fair means or foul. 1 will not detail the various petty methods she employed to make trouble between us. but owing to your dear unswerving trust in me and my blindness to any woman but you, she failed. What is that saying about 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?’ It is

most true, as 1 have proved to my undoing. She is indeed a fury. I’hyl, I may Ik- a rotter, hut she is evil incarnate. You know my weakness, dear, and I think you know the effort I made to pull up for your sake. 1 had the upper hand I swear it —until Kona, found she could not work her will on me. Then she stooped to tempt me through the weak spot in my armour. It was she who was responsible for m \ condition last night. 1 had no intention of touching any liquor for toasts or any other reason. I knew ny own weakness. Somehow she managed to substitute whisky for the .lemonade in my glass. Now, I’hyl, whisky was my downfall in the days before I met you. My father and grandfather died ol whisky-poisoning. Had Kona put any other liquor for me to drink, I do not think I wi uld have succumbed to its lure, but the smell alone of whisky drives me crazy for it, and the devil must have l»een very close to Kona's eF-ow that evening. I am not whining or trying to condone my pitiable weakness, 1 in try, dearest, if you can, to realise the awful temptation, and may your forgiveness t>e in proportion to thut knowledge. “I have reached n> limit, I’hyl, for I Indieve she Is planning some rotten scheme to humiliate and hurt >ou at to-night’s ball. I cannot go on and risk making unhappiness for you, so, after hours of indecision, I have decided to end my life and her’s to-night, ’.>efore she can work any barm. I am taking a huge responsibility on rnv soul. 1 know, thus to hurl two souls p.to the Beyond prematurely. Hut 1 will shoulder the burden, for 1 do not wish to live, and she is not fit to. She will never allow me to m ir y you while she is alive. T kill her and stay here happily, but \ w 11 take her with

tm\ so that she can work no m*v evil on acme other poor soul. “Ah for John ami Joan s' j has never been a mother to then., a :. .oil will mother them, won’t you. ckarest? I have arranged to leave my possessions to you in trust for them, so that they will want for nothing temporal. '1 heir names do not apj>ear in my wiil, but you will know what to do. “When you receive this you will know thut I have tried to arrange everythin!! so that there will be no ■scandal and tongue-wagging. 1 will call for Kona at the Hall ami, apparently, »h* taking her to your home. Anne phoned me about Joan. It was Just hy iuck I heard the ’phone as I went out in the hall for some matches. I wMI «mII later In the evening, as I do not think there is anything to la* unduly alarmed ul>out. I will also mention to Anne that I will return and bring Kona, so that all unnecessary comment will be squashed. “Now, my 'line is getting short, as l have a good deal to do yet. Atxnit your dear self! You will not grieve for me, love. I know. Somewhere I will l*e working and fitting myself to meet you In a better, fairer world. My dearest wish, as 1 stand thus on the threshold of death, is thut later, when the sharpness of your )>ereavement has passed, you will marry good old Jim, and with him make a gracious home for John and Joan and your children, whom he is. in every way, letter fitted to father than I am! I wonder if you can guess what it costs me to give up my dreams of norne and little children! Almost I think Ood may deem my punishment sufficient for my sin! “And so I must leave you for a while, sweetheart. ! know you will lx* strong and courageous. 1 am tc-o near the lorderllne to indulge in any pretences. I know your love for me is a great love that, even this, will not kill, but Ph. '■ lis, I could not bear to think of you living the lonely years uncompanioned and unnmtal ion know my views upon marriage, and how I have always maintained out of my experience that ninety-nine per cent, of happy marriages are founded on friendship, mutual respect, and compatibility of tastes, rather than on passionate love. Jim is the man f or you, dear, ami soon you will know it, and carry out my deanst wish. "Adieu, tnen, until the day breaks. “A’ours truly, "BILLY." * * J» Three years later Hie two following notices appeared in the Hinewhareua “Herald'*:— PRYOR. On April 26. 19S0, to Phyllis, wife of fnnea Pryor, a son (William), a brother for John. And lower down, an In Memorlnm notice: In loving remembrance of William I*ane King. M.D.. who died suddenly, April Jt*. 1927. Inserted by his loving friends. Jim. Phyllis, Kalt>h, and Anne. The End