Will Warburton

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 45, 22 February 1905, Page 11

Will Warburton

By GEORGE GISSKG " * "

A EOMAXCE OF REAL LIFE.

(Author of "Demos," "The Nether World, , ' etc.)

,r Warborton, a young fellow who • with Godfrey Sherwood iv to bißiliess. has returned from a f l6 sn *Lts' hoadar in Switzerland, whero time fiancee of his friend Franks, who presently calls to announce * fVcma/ried on tbe strength of his ti<m to »«• taa beeri bad with. Messrs success- t>^ 1 c tiino pasti but amongst sba V%Mx Warbortoc linds waiting for tiie lett h i? retarn . is ODC from his partner, him oa opportunity iv view. Our on' investigation proves to T \ n nondiasc of a jam making business b<l f one business o> such -«i that Warbertoa is luduoe-l to pWi M?r the advisability of persuading his JSS «ad si*er to invest their Uttie capital in It* , CHAPTER X. j Back.a* Chelsea, Will sent a note tv , Herbert Franks, a line or two without rpress reference to what had happened, j Urns bim to come and have a talk. ' Three days passed, and there was no ieply . Will grew uneasy; for, though ' the artist's silence perhaps infant only gollenness, danger might lurk in such "man's thwarted passion. On the fourth «enfe" J ust :ls ' hP ha,l made Up hLs Sri to walk over to the knock sounded. Mrs Hopper * a left; Wd\ vrcm l 0 tftc c ' oor - ;LIKi ' .!?eeted his visitor iv the usual way. : gut Franks entered without speaßing. The lamplight showed a, pitiful change ; •„ him- he was yellow ;<nd fishy-eyed, nUaven, disorderly in dress; indeed, so well did he look the part of the desaurixc lover that suspected I touch of theatric wmsciousness. "If you hadn't come to-night." said iffffi, "I should have looked you up." 1 lay limply in the arm-chair, jtarins blankly. ••1 ousht to have, come before, he replied in low. toneless voice- "That night when I met you, I made a fool /myself. For one thing. 1 was drunk, and I've been drank ever since." ■■Ha! That accounts for your dirty collar/ remarked Will, in his note of in drollery. «Is it dirty?"' said the other, passing a flnser round his "What docs it matter? A little dirt more ur loss. in a world so full of it ——" Warburton could not contain himself; he laughed, and laughed again. And his mirth was contagious; Franks chuckled unwillingly, dolefully. "You are not extravagant in sympathy," said the artist, moving with fretful nervousness. I "If I were, wouM it do you any good, | old fellow? Look here, are we to taik | of this affair or not? -hist a.« you like. Tor my part, I'd rather talk about "The! Summer.' I had a look at it the other j day. Uncommonly good, the blackguard ea the curbstone, you've got him." "Tou think so." Franks sat a Little straighter. but still vdth vacant eye. "Yes, not bad, I think. But who knows whether I shall finish the rhing." "If you don't-" replied his friend, in a matter of fact tone, ""you'll do something better. But 1 should finish it, if I were you. IE you had the courage to flint in the right sort of face—the girl. you. know-'' "What sort of face, then;" "Sharp-nosed. thin-Hpped. rat.lipr •naemic, with a tmiverse of self-conceit in the eye.' , 'They wouldn't hang il. arid nobodywould buy it. Beside*. Warburtou. you're wrong if you think the slummers are always that. sort. Rjtill. I'm not sure I shan't do it. our, of spite. There's anoUu.T reason, too —i hite besntiful women; I don't think I shall ever be able to paint another.'' He sprang up, and pared, as of old, tbout the room. Will purposely kept iflence. "I've confessed," Franks began again. *ith effort, "that I made a fool of myself the other night. But, I wish you'd Wl mc something about your time at, Trieat. Didn't you notice anything? Didn't anything make you suspect what Mc was going to dor "I never for a moment foresaw it," reflied Will, with unemphasised sincerity. "Yet she must have made up her miiui Whilst you were there. Her astounding pocriay! I had a letter a few days Before, the same aa usual ,? "Quite the same , ! ,, ••Absolutely!—Well, there was no Cifierenee that struck mc. Then all at ™M she dedares that for months s-he nw telt her position false «id painful Zi a nwostrous thing! Why did she j pretending-piayins a farce? I "B* nave sworn that no irirl lived who *M owe thoroughly honest in word i thL aDd thotl Sht. It's awful to itoTl r ° De tan bL " de <-'™ed "■ I »uicl«----!Z d ,f * he about unfaithful 2*. .all that sort of thfag. I always as if a fello? 4alf*S: n Sat in meditation, only *°? f CT- f ke ', s a^amed to face mc - that tT nld TOI, after her ' sbe placc ' noc mentioned, and Z i I. W3S t0 ad( iress to Bath. l£l Ctter Wo,dd forwarded. 1 thhk T V eVCr SeDt iL So«thn«. 1 *r l wv again; and t u\ ' ] make hpr Jcc me ' ThunH^ 1 ' lhe truth about herself, got S is -Fm half afraid-I've St tO T u torture euoush ' i don,t TDto to |f anoth er turn across the CheCked hlmself beforJe abolt U if mQ T° neStl - r what - you think tonr •' want advice. What's lOD J opmon of her?"' «S tO , ! sm preasion S ' Frank", "your tnfn yOUl ' feeUn S- Huw doss 'm 7 your ! natter n r Sagreeabl y enough; chat's a, wet of course." lert h\ dOn!t excuse ter?: ' "ked Nor- J i,^ 0 excus « "" f or iipin," , at excuse can there be lellberate liypo crisy . treachery?" barton V^ 13 ', delib erate/ replied" WarJoer dJt 8 to bo said. In ! 'ioald tl . ~ since y° u «*k advice—J { that the ■ t ° tlllnk that v wa 3n'n, but Mai ..j^ l laii simple changed her J WL ~I s °« could stand it no jßiet ?° taste for melodrama; nsa 7. is much moie in my line

-comedy ending with mutual tolerance ■id forgiveness. To be sure, if you reel you can't live without her, if you're determined to fight for her " ''Fight with whom?" cried Franks.

"'With 'her'; then read Browning and blaze away. It may the best; who can tell? Only—on this point lam clear—no self-deception? Don't -o in for heroics, just because they seem fine.

Settle with yourself whether she is indispensible to you or not.—Tndispensible? why, no woman is that to any rr.an; sooner or later, it's a matter of indifference. And if you feel, talking plainly with yourself, that the Tvorst i≤ over already, that it doesn't after all matter as much as you thought; why. get back to your painting. if you c-an paint only ugly women, so much the better. I've no doubt." Franks stood reflecting. Then he nodded. "All that is sensible enough. But, if I give her up, I ahall marry someone else straight away." Then he abruptly said good-night. leaving Warburton not unhopeful about him. and much consoled by the disappearance of the shadow winch had threatened their good understanding. CHAPTER XI. The Crosses, mother and daughter, lived at Walham Green. The house was less pleasant than another which Mrs Cross owned at Putney, but it also represented a lower rental, and poverty obliged them to take this into account. When the second house stood tenantless. as had now been the case for half a year. Mrs Cross' habitually querulous comment on life rose to a note of acrimony very afflictive to her daughter, Bertha. The two bore as little resemblance to each other, physical or mental, as mother and child well could. Bertha Cross was a sensible, thoughtful girl, full of kindly feeling, and blost with a humorous turn that enabled her to see the amusing rather than the earking side of her pinched life. Theso virtues she had from her father. Poor Cross, who supplemented a --mall income from oflien routine by occasional comic journalism, and even wrote a farce (which brought money to a theatrical manager), made nn his death-bed a characteristic joke, lie had just sijjned his will, anil was left alone with his wiEe. "I'm sure I've always wished to make your life happy." piped the afflicted woman. "'And I yours," he faintly answered: adding, with a sad. kind smile as ho pointed to the testamentary document. "Take the will for the deed."

The two sons had rmigratinl to British Columbia, and Bertlia would not have bfon sorry to join her brothers there, for domestic labour on a farm, in pence and health, seemed to her considerably better than the life sh? painfully supporter). Sh:> had npver dreamt of Ucir.ir an artist, but. some facility with the pencil, was sent by her father to South Kcnifingtoti. where she met and made friends with Rosamund Elvan. Her necessity and her application being greater th:in Rosamund's, Bertha before long succeeded in earning a little money; without this help, life at home would scarcely hive beeu possible for her. They might, to bo sure, have tu"ken :i lodger, havinj spare rooms, but Mrs Cross could only face that possibility if the person received into the house were "Tespee\i vl enough to be called a pjyirg guest, and no such person offered. So thpy lived, as no end ot' "respectable" families do, a life of penury and SPC-Insion. soniet'mes going withou". a meal that they might have tleoent elothinjr to -wear abroad, never able to buy a book, to hear a concert, and only hy painful sacrifice able to entertain ii friend. When, on a certain occasion. Miss Elvan passed a week at their hou=e I Mr* Cross approved of this friendship, and -hoped it might be a means of discovering the paying gnest), it meant for them a near approach to starvation during the month that ensued.

Time would have weighed heavily on Mrs Cross, but for one recreation. which was perennial,, ever fresh, constantly full of surprises and excitement. Poor is she was, -be contrived to hire a domestic servapt; to say tbat ?b.<> "kept" one would rorac near to a verbal impropriety, seeing that no servant ever remained in the hoise for more than a few months, whilst it occasionally happened that the space of half a year -would see a succession of some half dozen '•generals." Underpaid and underfed, these persons (they varied in ago from 14 to 401 were of course incompetent, careles=. rebellious, and Mrs Cross found the sole genuine pleasure of hex life in the war she waged with them. Having no reasonable way of spending her hours, -he was thus supplied with occupation: being of acrid temper, she was thus supplied with a subject upon whom 3be could fearlessly exercise it: being remarkably mean of disposition, she saw in the paring-down of her servant's rations to a working minimum, at once profit and sport: lastly, being tond of the most trivial gossip, she had a neverfailing topic of discussion with su»?a ladies as could endure her society.

Bertha, bavins been accustomed to this domes-tic turbulence all her life long, for the most part paid no heed to it. She knew that if the management of the house were in her hajds, instead of her mother'?, things would go much more smoothly, but the mere suggestion of ?ucb. a change (ventured once at a moment of acute crisis) had so amazed and exasperated Mrs Cross tbat Bertha never again looked in that direction. Yet from tijiie to time a revolt of common sense forced her to speak, and. as the only possible way. ii quarrel were to be avoided, she began her remonstrance on tho humorous note. Then when her mother had been wearying hex for half an hour with complaints and lamentations over the misdoings of one Emma, Bertha, as the alternative to throwing up her hand* and rushing out of the house, bejrjn laughing to herself, whereat Mrs Cross indtgnantly begged to be informed what there was "so very amusing in a state of affairs which would assuredly bring heto her grave. . •• If only you could see the comical ?ide of it. mother,' , replied B--rtha. "it really has one, you know. Emma, if only you would be patient with her, i= a wellmeaning creature, and she says the fun meat thin??. I asked her this mornins if she didn't think she could find some way of remembering to put the salt on the table. And she looked at mc very solemnly, and said, Indeed I will, miss. I'll put'into my prayers, just after 'our daily bread.' " Mrs Cross sa-w nothing m this but profanity. She tamed the attack on Bertha, wbo, fe?[ fesr »St "Siff of **«k-

ing, simply encouraged the servants,, she declared, in negligence and insolence. "Look at it in this way, mother/ replied the girl, as socn as she was suffered to speak. "To be badly served is bad enough, in itself; why make it worse by ceaseless talking about it, so lea»ing ourselves not a moment of peace and quiet? I'm sure I'd rather put the. salt on the table myself at evory meal, | and think no more about it. than worry, ] worry, worry, over the missing sa!t-cel- j lars from one meal to the next. Don't I yon feel, dear mother, that it' 3 shocking waste of life ?" ' : Wliat nonsense you talk, cl? ; .ld! Are we to live in dirt and disorder? Am I never to correct a servant, or teach her her duties? But of course everything I do is wrong. Of fours? you could do everything so very ciut:h better. That's what children arc nowadays." Whilst Mrs Cross pip<-d on. IL-riha regarded her with eyf»s of humorous sadness. The girl often felt it v dreary | thing not to be able to respect—nay. not to be able to feel much love for —her mother. At sut-h times, her thought! turned to the other parent. \\*:.h whom. bad he and =be been left alone. ;he could have uved so happily, in so much mutual intelligence and affection. She sighed and moved away. i

The unlet house was a very serious matter, and when one d;iy Xorbcrt Franks came to talk about iv. saying that he would want a house very soon, and thought this of Mrs Cross' might suit him. Bertha rejoiced no iess than her mother. In eonseauence of the artist's announcement, she wrote to tier friend Rosamund, saying how glad she was to hear that her marriage approached. The reply to this lc.ter surprised her. Rosamund had bren remiss in cor rHspondence for the last few months, her few and brief letters, though they were as affectionate a? ever, making no mention of what had formerly been an haustibie topic —the genius, goodness, and brilliant hopos of Franks. Now she wrote as if in utter despondency, a letter so confused in style and vaeue jn expression, that Bertha could gather from it little or nothing except a jrave doubt whether Franks' marriage war, as near as he supposed. A week or two passed and Rosainaud again wrote —from Switzerland: a,gain the Utter was an un intelligible maze of il'eary words, and a| rcere moariinjr and signing, which puzzled l Bertha as mur-h as it distressed her. Ro-; samnnd's epistolary style, when she wrote to this boscin friend, was always pitched in a key of lyrical emotion. which now and then would have been trying to Bertha's sense of humour bu: for the sincerity manifest in every word; hitherto, however, sop had expresed herself with perfect lucidity, and this sudden change seemed ominous of alarming tiling-. Just when Bertha was anxiously wondering what could have happened — of course inclined to attribute blame, if blame there were, to the artist rather than to his betroth<>d —a stranger came to inquire about the house to let. It was necessary to ascertain at on<-e whether Mr Franks intended to "become their tenant pr not. Mrs Cross wrote to him, and received the hrief-«t possible reply, to the elTect that his plans were changed. ■'How vexatious:" exclaimed, Mrs Cross. "I had very much rather have !et to people we know! I suppose he'? ;orn n. hotise that Fllits him better." -[ think there's another reason." said Bertha, after, gazing for a minute or two .it the scribbled, careless note. "The marriage is put off.' , "And you knew that." cried lier mother, "all the timo. and never told mc! And I might have missed twenty chances of letting. Really. Bertha. I never did see like you. There's that house standing empty month after month, and we hardly know wh»rp to turn to for money, and you knew that Mr Franks wouldn't, take it. and yet you sr.y nor. a word! How can you behave in such an extraordinary way? I think you really find pleasure in worrying mc. Anyone v.ould fancy you wished to see mc in my jrrave. To think that you knew ail the time.".

(To be continued nest Saturday.)