Her Ugly Husband.

Free Lance, Volume IV, Issue 167, 12 September 1903, Page 17

Her Ugly Husband.

EVERY man who put up at the Southern Cross seemed to feel himself called upon to make love to Mrs. Lupe, and, as the Southern Cross had become a popular resort for sportsmen from. Melbourne, who came to fish in the river, to shoot over the lagoons at Buny^p, and to hunt kangaroo and wallaby at the foot of the range, three miles back, Mrs. Lu D e had many adorers. The reason of the adoration was not far to seek. Mrs. Lupe was a singularly handsome and attractive young woman, a little over middle height, slim enough to be as graceful as a gazelle, but with a prettily rounded figure for all that. She had a fair, clean complexion that was absolutely flawless, fine, even, white teeth, large eyes that owed their beauty less to their size and colour than to their exquisite outline, a straight, dainty nose, and hair brown as a crust, and soft and glossy as silk. Add to these attractions a pleasant, friendly manner towards all, a charming taste in dress, a pretty hand, a mouth like a broken red rose, and an ugly husband. Phil Lupe looked like the still youthful remains of a fine man so far as his figure was concerned. He was a good height, his shoulders were broad, but he was bent and emaciated, and he walked with an awkward limp, but it was Lupe's face that provoked the sympathy of Mrs. Lupe's admirers. "It's a fellow's bounden duty to make love to a pretty woman married to such a devilishly ugly man," said a young Melbourne lawyer, who stayed at Hogans Slip for a fortnight. This was the opinion of most of the young fellows who patronised the hotel. "Dud-dash it, the pup-pup-poor woman must have some compensations, dud-dud-don't you know," answered his friend. Lupe's face was seared across with a scar that extended from one ear, passed over his nose, and finished at the turn of the iaw. The eyes and the mouth alone had escaped iniury, and these features were particularly good, if they could only have been seen apart from the terrible disfigurement that wrecked Phil's face. Lupe was conscious of his ugliness evidently, as he kept himself a great deal to himself. The management of the hotel, so far as the visitors could see, was in Mrs. Lupe's hands, and Lupe lived much of his time in a room well-stocked with books, and, when not reading, he occupied himself making carvings in wood, and fishing by the river. The visitors rarely saw Mr. and Mrs. Lupe together and never saw them exchange any signs of affection. 'Of course she doesn't care for the fellow — how could she ? " said the visitor, and naturally each of them concluded that she could not care for him. Phil was not a strong man , he could not bear exertion, and looked sickly, whereas Pearl was the embodiment of sunny health. Pearl accepted the attention of her patrons in the pleasantest way. She was nothin^ of a shrew, and too prudent to be a prude. She never lost her temper with the visitors, and never displeased them, even though they found that their most strenuous efforts to captivate her only provoked a merry little twinkle in her eye and a few piquant jests from her ready tongue She turned her admirers empty away, but she fed her oustomers remarkably well, and she turned the loving ones away with such tact that never a man of them was offended, and so the Southern Cross prospered, and was the most popular hotel m the country with Melbourne sport 9 w T ho take a few days' holiday now and again with rod or gun. " 'Pon my soul, I don't know how you can resist me," said one impudent young Melbournian, laughing at Pearl over the table behind which she had discreetly entrenched herself. '•Well, don't you come up to the Southern Cross for a change?" she answered. "We come for sport." "If I am the game, it's the close season." "Ah, Mrs. Lupe, we poor devils come up here to hunt, and we get caught, every man Jack of us." "Silly fellows ! I set no traps " "Neither does the flame, but the poor moth gets "there just the same." "Oh, if you're merely a moth, I'll pin you to the wall." She pointed to a hat-pm. She laughed them all out of their seriousness, and it was a sure test of a man's quality to send him to the Southern Cross, and note if he came away Pearl's friend or her enemy. Every man worth a crack of the fingers liked her, even though he could not understand her lack of taste in not becoming very fond of him.

lam wrong in. saying she laughed them all out of their seriousness. There came one who refused to be laughed down. He came to the Southern Cross with friends intending to stay a fortnight, he stayed three months. He was rich, and there were no claims upon him. He was travelling for amusement, he said. Hogans Slip amused him, so why should he not stay there. His friends laughed, and left him. They knew that Mrs. Lupe had made another conquest, and a rather more serious one this time. William Marden was about Pearl's age, as good-looking a young fellow as a woman could dream of, athletic, chivalrous in his attitude towards the sex, and a decent, kindly fellow, who could make himself very agreeable to the girl he admired. Before his fortnight was up, he had fallen desperately in love with Mrs. Lupe, but not so desperately that he dared make love to her in the manner of the others. He respected her, he fancied he understood her, and saw the true woman behind the brightness and charm that were only her surface quality. So he stayed, and looked at her, and adored her, and thought he was keeping his secret well. Pearl knew, however — her experience had been wide and varied. She saw what was coming, and trembled. She knew how to deal with the frivolous kind, but the serious adorer was a different matter. A woman could never tell how this type might declaie itself. In fact, Marden's passion was no secret. Everybody m the place had discovered it, with the exception of Phil Lupe. The dog-hke devotion would not be banished from his eyes. He wandered about the rooms, seeking Pearl half unconsciously, and behaving himself at every turn. Pearl liked him. It was impossible for a sympathetic, womanly creature not to like him, seeing how hard he was struggling to do the right thing. The inevitable happened one Sunday afternoon. Marden had found Mrs. Lupe reading m a small summer-house m the orchard, and had seated himself near her He talked quietly a,nd interestingly of many things, and then, suddenly, Pearl found him on his knees at her side, clasping her hand. '"I love you," he said. "For mercy's sake, don't be angry — don't leave me ! I'm not responsible ' My love is master'" She made no demonstration. She treated the matter quite rationally. 'Mr. Marden, you must leave tomorrow," she said. "Go away," she added, m a kindly tone , "do something that w ill occupy your mind , forget this foolishness. I shall say nothing. We need make no unpleasantness, but please go." "I can't— l can't go' I love you'" ■'And I do not Jove you'" "You love someone else p " His brow darkened, and for a moment a vicious look was in his face. "Yes, I love another. He is my husband, as it happens." Marden started back. He looked at her in amazement. "Your husband, ' he gasped. "Impossible, impossible — you oannot love that " He had thrown his arm about her, and, for the first time anger shone in her eves. "Get ur>'" It was Phil Lupe who spoke. He stood just within the doorway. "Get up, you infernal scamp," he said Marden rose and faced him, and Lupe continued "Come out of that. You have got to answer to me'" Phil Lupe diew himself up. He no longer looked a cnpple. He towered before Marden, and his eyes blazed with passion. But Pearl interposed. She stood close to to him, a hand on either shoulder. "Don't, dear." she pleaded. "Don't, you know the mischief this will do you. Leave him to me for a little while, Phil. Please — please '" Lupe looked down into her face, and all the passion fled from him. Marden noticed the look that supplanted it — a look of absolute adoration, and from that moment a new respect for Lupe foimed in his heart. Phil turned without a word, walked up the path, and into the house, and Pearl faced Marden again. "'You see lam trusted," she said. Marden nodded. "Sit down a minute, I want to tell you something. If I had not known you to be a good fellow at heart I would not trouble, but I should like you to go from here thinking well of me and of him." She nodded tow ards the house. ' You thought I could not love my husband because I cannot see him with your eyes That is what the fools think, but you aie no fool — -you should have known human nature better He may be ugly to you — to mo ho is beautiful. Ido not sec that scar you find

hideous — I see the face behind it — the face I saw one night come through smoke and flame to snatch me from a homble death. "I loved him then, and he was handsomo and strong. There was no man so handsome, I thought. The house in which I lived with my parents took fiie. When I awoke, and realised it, I was surrounded with flame. I was already in torture. I was staring straight into the awful countenance of death, and the horror of it was in my soul. At that moment he came through the fierce flames. I saw only his face. It was the face of an archangel. He took me up, as a mother might her child and deliberately wrapped me in the bedclothes— while the fire flamed in his hair— taking precaution that no harm should come to me, while he must have suffered the agonies of the damned. "He carried me to safety, and went back for mv mother. As he bore her to the door, a burning rafter fell, sriking him across the face, but he brought mv mother out, and placed her poor, dead body on the grass. He was then black — his clothes were charred upon him. He turned, staggering backwards, with the intention of going after my father, but stumbled and fell upon his face on the grass. "He suffered awfully, and lay in the hospital for long months. He oame out a wreck, disfigured as you see him. He is strengthening:, and the doctor says the scar will fade in time, but, if it does not, I shall always see only the face of my preserver — the true face of the man I love." Marden stood for a moment in silence, and then he held out his hand. ' Good-bye, Mrs. Lupe " he said. "You will go?" "Yes. at once. But before T go I should like to speak to your husband." Poarl looked at him for a moment. "Very well " she said. "Good-bye. If you ever feel like a friend towards us — me and him — perhaps in a long time, come and see us again." "You are very good " She wont into the hotel, and a few minutes later Phil Lupe entered the summer-house. "Well?" he said. "Lupe, it would be absurd for me to tender you a bald apology after what hag happened " Marden said, quietly. "I have acted like a our. Take what revenge you please." He stood with his hands clasped behind him. "I no longer want revenge," said Lupe. "I oaji afford to forgive. She is mine." Marden bowed his head. "You are right," he said. "Anyhow, she has avenged you. At this moment I'm feeling meaner than ever I felt in my life. God send you health and strength, Lut>e. So long'" He went out of the garden and down the road, and Phil looked after him for a few minutes. He then turned, and re-entered the house. A minute later his wife stole into his room beside him, and her arms crept about his neck. "You do not mind, Phil p " she said, pressing her cheek to his. "No," he said. "After all. Marden is the unfortunate — not I." — By Ward Edson, in Melbourne "Punch."