SHORT STORY

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 361, 9 April 1903, Page 7

SHORT STORY

After commanding for a tine the respectful attention which generally attaches to m man whose character defies the power of analysis of his fellows, Fenwick began to degenerate into something of a butt at the club. He was Bound enough upon every point except one, but §t> rough that single failing he lest cast hopelessly. Hot that there was anything discreditable about the matter, the simple fact being that his incessant praises of his wife—whom he drat ged into every kind of conversation, a* King Charles's head was dragged into the memorial-first made the judicious grieve, and ended by causing tha majority of his clubmates to BCuff. For my own part the pathetic aspect of the matter always outweighed the ludicrous. It appealed to me to hear this careworn, but brilliantly intellectual man extol, before any who would listen, the woman he had led to the altar; but perhaps my own bachelordom, and the memory of the luckless romance which brought about it, made me more sentimental than the rest. At any rate, I erdearcured to show Fenwick that he had at least one sympathetic, listener,- snd, although the consequences were at times a little trying, reward came in the intimacy which resulted, for Fenwick's conversation on every cth r subject was a treat to hear? He had not yet lost the enthusiasm of youth, and was able to electrify me with the portrayal of Utopian aims and schemes which he was determined some day to convert into reality, provided only—well, provided that happened which it seemed to me never could happened this aide of the miUenium. To suppose that Fenwick spent a lot of time at the club, and therefore apart from his parapen cf a wife, would be a mistake. He had joined us, without doubt, simply for the purpose of having a convenient place in which to write, and it was only during nis hour's brrak for lunch and brain-relief during the course of the day's work that he joined in tbe smoking-room chat. Yet it was the fact of his needing to do so much writing away from home which first aroused the suspicion that, something was wrong there, that hia ' allusions to his wife were a little feverish, .\nd that the hunted, harassed look he

souetiiaee wore did sot quite coincide ffin the idea of perfect conjugal happiT»fc The farther circumstance of Mrs. Fenwicc never being brought to oar ladies' gatherings, and of the entire absence of invitations to call upon him, confirmed the notion that a skeleton -was in the cupboard, and that Fenwick'a praises were only a mask to conceal something that would not bear the light of day. Certainly his private affairs were bo real concern to his fellow-members ; but to some extent he made them public, and thereby furnished a shadow of excuse for what followed. I do not propose to offer either approval or condemnation of the action of the two or three conspirators who determined to find out where Fenwick lived, and all about him; but will content myself with recording the issue. In the first place, one of them called at the address on the club books, and asked boldly for Mrs. Fenwick, determined when she came to offer some specious plea for his visit. A tousled old woman answered the knock, listened to his request, and grumbled out 'that she didn't know so one named Fenwick, and didn't want to. Might ha' been someone there afore her—thought it very likely—bat believed 'enelf in people mindin' their own bi ziness.' Here she incontinently slammed the door in the caller's face. So the mysterious Fenwick had not given the club his correct, or at any rate his present, address 1

The next question was: 'Who had introduced him?' and it was discovered that one, of our former members—the senior partner in a well-known firm of Gblishera for whom Fenwick worked — i proposed him. Beference was made to this gentleman, but nothing could be elicited except the fact t*at he believed the man to be highly gifted and of the utmost probity of character, and that his address for the firm was the club. The conspirators were bailed at this point, for.the simple expedient of following Feawick home was stigmatised as 'plajisgit a little too low.' Meanwhile, 1 was growing anxious about the object of all this attention. He was evidently becoming worried almost to death, and worked so hard at a novel upon which he was engaged that the double strain threatened to overpower him at any moment. I remonstrated, but in vain. He looked at me with pathetic eyes, made a tired gesture with his hands, and said : 'Thanks for yew advice and warning, Brjstowe. But you will believe me when I say that, whatever the consequence, I must go on working. Ton see, there's the wife——' He checked himself, for once, at the word, and, rather to my surprise, a flush overspread bis features, and, dying out, left them of the hue of marble. It was about a fortnight later that Fenwick fell down on the club floor in a sort of fit. Medical aid was summoned, and after a paroxysm lasting mora than a quarter of aa hour, he came to himself. 'What has happened, BristoweP' he asked, I explainsd, and then the voice of the doctor broke it with: • Mr. Fenwick must be got home to bed at once. Will someone call a cab V

, The words exercised a powerful effect the brain cf the sick maß, for he eat drew me to him, and whispered : •Bristowe, do me a favour—a great favour. Step anyone from ordering a cab, aad you—you yourself—you only—help me home. It ia a lot to ask, but I—there is a special rcasoß, and I beg of you, for the love of Heaven, to consent.' ' Trust to me,' I replied. " Anything I can possibly do for you shall be done.' The objections of the doctor were soon overcome, and presently I found myself arm-in-aria with the invalid, guiding his ■tepe to wards his unknown address. After a tedious journey, we turned the corner cf a mean-looking, obscure street, when Fenwiok, who had scarcely spoken a world till that moment, remarked:— ' Bristowe, would you miad leaving me here P There is a reason which I cannot explain for my not asking you to partake of my hospitality in recognition of your

Fenwick's Secret.

kindness. This is why I appealed to th* kindness, feeling sure you would not mis ctnßtrue or misjudge. Thus I must tel you, that the reason is connected with my wife. She is, when well, all that a man'l soul could desire, and the embodiment ol my fairftst ideals; but at times she is—she has attacks of illness, and, ah heavens!' He leant heavily on my arm, his brow grew moist with perspiration, and tht strained, weary look crept into his eyes at a flashily dressed, drink-sodden woman come reeling up to us with a hideout laugh. •So you've caught me out, have you P Yea, I've been on the spree, same aB yourself. Pretend you work, don't you, and leave me alone; but I'm a few too many for you, thouuh you do hold tbe brass, This is one of your Bwell pals, is it P How are yen, old boy V She attempted to clutch my arm, but missed it, and only saved herself from a fall by clutching a garden paling. 'Marie dear, come along home, will youP' said Fenwick, gently. 'You will excuse me, won't you, Bristowe, and,' whispering hoarsely in my ear, 'aß you hope for mercy, say i othing about this P Itiß my terrible secret, my curse—God knows for what. I work, slave, and the end is ever the same—drink—and our lives beggared and ruined. Yet I love her, Bristowe. Look at her. Degraded as she ip, and though she has broken my health and my heart, believ* this, I love her—love her so that to Bave her a pang I would Buffer a hundred times the torture I have already suffered. You will say nothing. Good-bye.' He turned from me and raised the drooping figure with a look of infinite pity on his face. She resisted at first, but the fumes of the drink had dulled her brain, and he was soon able to lead her away. They entered a house some hundreds of yards up the street, and that was the last I saw of Fenwick for several weeks. The elub fellows made some forcible remarks about my presumed knowledge of his address, and of the cause of his present disappearance, and I had difficulty in refraining from losing my temper in his defence; but the fear of betraying,the man's secret kept me dumb, and even the report that his publishers were becoming uneasy about his unfinished novel did not draw me into a disclosure. As the weeks went past however, I began to grow anxious regarding Fenwick's welfare, and more than once meditated making a cell upon him in the hope of being able to help. The thought that he might be embarrassed by a visit, and that he would doubtless communicate with me if he desired my aid, made me hesitate for some time, but at last I dutermined to go. Sallying from my chambers I paused to locate his address, and to my surprise saw Fenwick waiting on the opposite pavement I called his name, and he crossed towards me with bowed figure and red eyes. •Why, old chap,' I said, «how carious to have met you here i I had just made up mind to look you up, feeling disturbed about you.' • And I was waiting for you, Bristawe, but had a morbid fear of someone being with ycu, and would not ring. I wanted to know if you would mind coming home with me £cr a few minutes.'

'Certainly,' said I, 'Let us start at once.'

Aa we pasted along I noticed that my companion's face was twitching convulsively, and that the red eyes grew redder with suppressed tears. He did not, however, manifest any desire to talk, and we reached the gate of his house in silince. No light shone from any of the rooms, and we crept up a staircase wrapped in shadow, A horrible weight settled upon my heart, and I was not surprised at the sight which met my eyes in the upper room to which he led me. Twe candles were shining above a coins in which lay the body of Fen wick's wife. I looked at the face, and marvelled at its beauty. The traces of drink, had been entirely obliterated; the features were quite girlish, the whole countenance looked seraphic in its purity and peace. • Ton saw her as she was that day in the street/., said Fen wick. ' I could not rest, I could'not have her buried, until yon had seen her as Bhe is now. This is how she looked in the early years before she gave way to drink. She died suddenly three days ago, died in a fit of delirium; and. now you can imagine the angel I worshipped—the angel I knew her to be under whatever mask. When it is all over, Bristowe, I intend leaving England for Australia, quietly and alone; but first let me shake hands with you, and thank you for your friendship and fidelity. You may believe that your kindness will never be forgotten, never until I forget, also, to cherish her memory.' Thus I parted with Fenwick. He sailed for Australia, and I had one letter from him, and then news from the people he lodged with of his death, caused by some great trouble of mind, they imagined. :j\-'.

His complete disappearance from the club, and from the literary world, proved only the usual nine days wonder; but I always hold a green spot in ray heart for the memory of my friend aad his great love.