CHAPTER V.

Hawke's Bay Weekly Times, Volume 1, Issue 33, 12 August 1867, Page 197

CHAPTER V.

Whitmore Chase to be a good security, though he did not think Burden’s name on the hill n orth much. To his other embarrassments Philip now [added a fear of arrest on account of this transition, and he was in continual dread of being served with a writ, lie wrote to Beechnut for a sum isutlicient to take up the bill, and received a cold

refusal, too plainly indicating that even his brother had deserted him. In his 'indignation he resolved never to communicate with Beechani again, and doggedly awaited tine moment when his hist snilling should be expended, reckless of the future. Determined to leave no clue that might betray him, he removed to obscure lodgings at Chelsea, where bis unhappy wife passed many n weary hour in listening lor his step, which 100 frequently betrayed the excesses ia which he had been indulging. Beecham. was annoyed when he found that Philip had suddenly changed his residence and gone no one knew whither; and he was ponder-

mg' over the hast mode of tracing: him and carrying out his intended scheme, when Kohler's letter, addressed to Phi ip, arrived at Whitmore Chase. Beechum unscrupulously opened it, and after makiug some enquiries respecting the firm,resolved to employ Gr-ibbe to discover his brother and persuade him to emigrate. The crafty attorney took his way to Chelsea early on the day after his interview witli Bee ‘ham. lie had a diliieult task to perform, but his cunning was equal to the occasion. He had concocted his

~ZTHE SCHEME SUCCEEDS. CiPTJSCOMBE had spoken, the truth "'ben he told Beeclmrn of Philip’s destitute appearance. Since the latV/vK/' - ter’s interview with Sir Bryan, lie h had rapidly descended the social ladder. After 1 his passionate reply to his father, lie went back to Sedgwick, and communicated the result to Bcecham, who inwardly exulted at the tidings, though lie carefully suppressed his satistaetion. After some time spent in .discussing the best mode of proceeding, it was decided that Philip should return to London ; his brother promising to. provide him with the means of existence until some appointment could be procured for him through Beeeliaiu’s interest. Nothing, however was more remote from the intention of the latter than the idea of doing anything of the kind. He merely wished to plunge Philip in the struggle for life, trusting to his natural failings to reduce' him to a position which would render him glad of any chance of quitting the country; and in this Beeciiam displayed a profound knowledge of his brother’s nature. lie knew that in the stern struggle with poverty, Philip would soon regret bis hasty marriage ; and lie did not despair of inducing him to leave liis wife in England. ~Few, lie was aware, ever attained any position in the colonies without the display of qualities which were foreign to his brother’s composition; many things might- occur to prevent his return, and if liis wife could be led. to believe herself deserced, she might be persuaded that Sir Bryan would allow her a small income il" she changed her name and did not annoy him. Philip received several sums, gradually decreasing in amount, from his brother; but being unaccustomed to exercise economy, be plunged from one dilliculty into’ another, until at the time Luscombe met him he was nearly penniless. As his pecuniary difficulties increased liis self-respect diminished; he spent his time alternately in projecting visionary plans suid drowning his cares in that coward’s resource, the bottle. Already the chain galled him, and his wife saw with bitter sorrow that her forebodings had proved too true; poverty had extinguished Jus ali'ection. All that a loving 'and devoted wife conld devise she tried to restrain him from giving way to despair, but iu vain—the spell was broken.

Soon after his.return to town, Philip liad accidentally encountered Burden, one of his quondam convivial companions, who was of course unacquainted with the change in his position. Burden persimded. him to sign a bill, which” Kohler discounted without hesitation, believing the heir of

scheme, of action on the previous night; a few' hours generally sufficed him to lay down a plan of operations. He paused at a miserable looking house in one of the back streets near the Thames, and accosting a woman who stood at the door, inquired whetner auy person named Whitmore lived there. The answer he received was concise, but unsatisfactory, “ No, there ain’t.” “ I think I must "have mistaken the name,” Grabbe said. “ Worry possible,” was the brief reply. The attorney, somewhat discouraged, determined to try the power of money in unlocking her tongue. [ “I am sure the young man I wish to see lives | here, though I have forgotten his name ;” he said, quietly putting half-a-sovereign in her hand. “ L have some good new's for him,” he continued, without heeding her astonishment. “ Do yer mean Mr Phillips ?” the woman enquired, her natural acidity partly overcome by the judicious donation. “ Phillips—ah, I see —yes, that is the name,”'

Gnibbe rejoined. “ If yer wants him, yer’ll find him over at the ‘ Grapes’ yonder,” said the woman, “ but his wife' is upstairs, poor thing. It’s a shame for the brute to stop out all day, like he does, and leave the poor gal to cry her eyes out. Ugh ! I’d

teach hiuf different,' I warrant you, if he belongedto me!” “ No doubt you would,” Grabbe thought. “Let me see, 1 must get the husband out of the way lirst, and attend to his wife afterwards.” Then again addressing liimself to the virago, he said “ I have not time to see 3lrs Phillips at present,, thank you. Tell her to remain at home, as a friend will call this evening.” He crossed the road, and entered the public-house. “ Is there any person named Phillips in yourhouse at present ?” he inquired of the barman, who was about to answer, when Grabbe felt a.hand laid upon his shoulder; and wheeling sharply round, found himself face to face with Philip “Whitmore. The attorney at once recognised him from the resemblance of his features to .those of his brother Beeehum. Though comparatively early iu the

(lay, the unfortunate young man had evidently already been drinking. Grabiie hastily enquired for a private room, motioned to Philip to follow him, Uien locked the door and seated himself, signing to the other to ;do so likewise. [ “ What is your business with me ?” Philip asked. Grabb cautiously commenced : “ I wish to say a lew words to yon respecting your present situation, Mr. Whitmore. I am—” Philip sprang from his seat. “ Who are you ? By what authority do you dare to meddle with my affairs ?” lie iiercely demanded. Grabbe continued, without heeding Philip’s

menacing air, “ I will tell you my authority, Mr Whitmore. I came on behalf of those from whom.you took your wife, to ask you whether you have kept the solemn vow you made to iter at the altar ? I await your answer. If you have done your duty towards her —if she has had no cause , since her marriage to regret the step you induced her to take—then indeed I have no right to interfere. Is it so ?” He fixed his keen eye upon Philip, who hung his head. Grabbe saw bis advantage and pursued it. “ Believe me that all I have to propose is for your advantage. Your wife’s friends henrd that your father Ims discarded j ou, that you luive no means of support, and they are willing to assist you on. certain conditions. Shull i name them ?’ Philip made uo answer. “I must tell you,” continued Grabbe, “ that if you reject iny oiler is will not he repeated, and your wire will be helpless, without eveu you to aid her. A writ is out against you, for s ome bill transaction in which you are concerned.” Philip started. “ Aame your conditions," he said, hoarsely. “ A tree passage to Australia, and two hundred pounds on arrival, for yourself,’’ was the reply; “ aud fifty pounds a year to your wife during your absence.” “ What ! Leave my wife ! What is their object in separating us ?” Pmlip exclaimed.’ Grabbe saw his cause was already half gained; Philip did not reject the proposition. - “is it nob for your own benefit ?” the wily attorney asked. “ Wiiat other motive could influence them P Alone, you will be free to pursue any prospect which may promise best, untrammelled ; while your wife, placed beyond the reach of poverty, can await your return, instead of accompanying you from place to place, restricting your movements, and diminishing your funds." fiiilip meditated for a considerable time; so long, indeed, that Grabbe, with ml his interest m the game lie was playing, became impatient. “Ho you consent!'” at length he inquired. “ Yes!”. shouted Philip* dashing Ins clenched hand on the table with a degree of violence that made Grabbe start and turn pale; “I do consent, let what will come of it! Prove to me that you can rescue Ellen from iier present miserable condition, and I care not what becomes of myself; ’tis better to die in a strange country, unknown and unnoticed, than drag out a lingering existence here, scorned and discarded 1 The fault is theirs who have disowned and abandoned me !” “Then you accept ?” inquired Grabbe, with inward satisfaction. I do,” replied Philip, “ There is my hand on it !’*'

* (To be continued.)