The Great Anvil

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 375, 8 June 1928, Page 5

The Great Anvil

By

Rowan Glen .

Author of “ The Best G'ft of Ail. ■’ The Bishop j Masquerade," Ac., Ac

CHAPTER XVI. (Continued) “Than to tell me what?” he demanded. “Come! Out with it! I’m so inured to suffering that one more blow can scarcely matter. If it’s any help to you, I want you to realise that nothing you can tell me will kill the love that l have in my heart for Mary. Be frank, sir! I can bear the truth—but no more lies.” “You shall hear no lies from me,” the vicar promised, “but I can’t guarantee that you shall hear the whole truth. All that I can pass on to you Is the gossip that reached me at third or fourth hand.” “Very well, I’ll be content with that, meantime. What did the gossips say?” “I understand,” the other answered, “that there was some—some tore affair between your wife and a man known to me as the merest of acquaintances.” “Arthur Welland?” Carruthers asked. “Well? Go on.” The vicar hesitated. “This is very painful to me, Mr. Carruthers,” he remarked. “You must forgive me if I muddle things a bit. So far as I know, your wife and Welland ran away together, and that —that is all I know.” For some moments Carruthers sat motionless. Then a faint sound came from his lips—a sound like the echo of a sigh. “Thank you,” he said, and rose. “If you’ll be so good as to have? your servant take me to the door, I’ll get away." His very calmness had in it something that awed, and half-nervously the vicar laid a podgy hand on either of the broad shoulders. “Mr. Carruthers,” he said, “I beg of you to take this news of mine? with courage—no! that is wrong, for you have shown wonderful courage alroady. I scarcely know what to say, hut I do plead with you to fight down reckless impulse that may come. “You have been through the fires of adversity, and though you may not understand now' why you have been 80 tried, the day will come when everything will be made clear. You look back on this period of your life as- ” “Don’t!" Carruthers said; “you have been kind, Mr. Marsh, and honest, but 1 am in no mood to hear you preach. That is rude, I know, and I am sorry. ®ut you too will understand when you have had time to think about things fully, The big vision that is necessary to see beauty in pain may come me some day, but that day is far aw ay. At. the moment I am interested GOOD-BYE BLUES! marshalls to the rescue Yes! You can say good-bye to the juues and every ailment that can be traced to the nerves if you take a. course of Marshall’s Fospherine. Depression will be banished for f ver, because ‘‘Marshall’s" recharges the “runuown” tissues of your nerve system, restoring you to health immediately. Marshall’s Fospherine is a highlyconcentrated. quick-acting tonic that *upplies you with the phosphorus so lacking in modern refined foods. Obtain th#> six-sided carton from ini 111 * c hernist or storekeeper to-day— JT doses for 2s 6d. If unable to obreadily, write the proprietors. A. na \v. Baxter, of Baxter’s Lung Pre*eiVer > Christchurch. 1-

in only one thing—l want to find my wife, and Welland.” “Do nothing rash,” the other counselled. “Remember that what I have told you was merely gossip.” “My mother believed it,” Carruthers pointed out. “I admit that, but even so she may have been misled. I have not searched for proof that your wife did anything wrong, and without proof we must not judge.” Carruthers’s face was very grim. “I shall not judge without proof,” he returned; “but if I get the proof, I shall not merely judge—l shall deal out justice.” * CHAPTER XVII. When he stepped tinto the ear again Carruthers said to Pratt; “Tell him to drive back to Quarrenford. I am not going to say anything more to you now, Pratt, beyond this—l do not expect to come to Apple-Warley again. There are too many liars in the place for my liking.” “Quite so, sir!” said Pratt. “But what would you be meaning exactly?” “I’m meaning,” the other answered, “that I want you to keep your mouth tight-shut till we get to the hotel. Then I’ll give you a chance to speak before I send you away. Not a word now! I’ve things to think about —and you may do some thinking yourself.” When they had reached the hotel, and were in Carruthers’s bedroom there, it was Pratt who ended the wearingly-long silence. “Mr. Carruthers, sir,” he started. “I can tell that something pretty big and pretty bad has happened. What that clergyman said to you I don’t know, but if you’ll give me a lead, I’ll be glad.” Carruthers lighted a cigarette. “I suppose I must do that,” he remarked. “otherwise you might continue as one of the liars. Let me start by putting a question. How long have you known that my wife was not dead?” “Good lord!” Pratt exclaimed. “So you know?” “I do. I know that because I’m blind and helpless, I’ve been fooled by all those who I most trusted. You were among them, Pratt. My mother, my wife, my friends, my servants — liars all.” “But, sir ” “Liars all!” Carruthers repeated. “Listen! I ll tell you what I know. I know that my wife is alive am 1 well. I know that shortly before I returned to England she ran away from her home in Apple-Warley with that scoundrel. Welland! Did you know that, Pratt?” “Yes, sir.’ “All right! We’ll have the rest of your information presently. I’ve told you what I know. Now, I’ll tell you what I guess. As I see the thing, my mother told me that my wife; was dead because she believed that I d prefer to hear that than to hear that she —my wife—had —oh! I can’t find words. “I guessed that hit by bit, and as occasion required, others were led into this scheme of secrecy. You were one of them; Welland, for some reason or other, was another: half a dozen men and women in Apple-Warley were in the thing. “Well! there it is, Pratt. r cant keep you, of course. That would be

impossible now, unless ” “Unless what, sir?” “Unless you can make a case out for yourself that will appeal to my reason. Let’s have your story—and keep it short. I only wish I could see your face. I’d know then whether, for once, you were speaking the truth.” “I can tell the truth with the best of them,” Pratt returned. “You can sack me when I’ve done if you like, but if you do, I’m doubting if you’ll get any one else who’d serve you as I’ve served you, and as I’m prepared to serve you.” '“Cut that out!” Carruthers said curtly. “I’ll do all the whitewashing that’s necessary, if I get the chance. What I want to hear now is when and how you discovered that I wasn’t a widower, but a poor fool of a man whose wife had gone to someone else.” “Stop a minute, sir,” said Pratt sharply. “You go too fast. When you’ve heard what I’ve got to tell, you’ll think different about things Here’s my bit of the story, ar\l I swetr to God that every single word of it is true!” Not once did Carruthers interrupt him, and when Pratt had made an end, the blind man spoke with intense gravity. “What you’ve told me,” he said, “has been told under as solemn an oath as you could take. You stand by every word?” “Every word.” “It seems that, according to your lights, you and the others acted for the best,” Carruthers went on. “The lights may have been dim, but that’s beside the point. I can’t decide in my own mind whether or not you were right, Pratt, but anyhow I’ve got to re.adjust my point of view.” “You mean, sir?” “I mean that it wouldn’t be fair to treat you rji a disloyal servant. You haven’t been that. I fancy that you've done more in my interests than I’d have done if I’d fcften in your place ” “I’m to stay with you then, sir?” “Yes —ii you will. If I’m to be successful in what 1 want to do, I’ll need the help of someone like you. Money doesn't seem to have any great attraction for you, but just the same I’m going to increase your wage. You deserve it, and I know that, so long as you’re in my employ, you’ll stand by me. Give me your hand.” Very readily Pratt did so. “I’m easier in my mind, sir, than I’ve been for weeks,” he remarked. “Of course, I hoped that you’d never find out about things, but as you have, it’ll be plain sailing for us both now. What you want to do is to find Mrs. Carruthers. When you do find her, you’ll remember what I told you?” “I’ll remember everything,” Carruthers answered, “but I don’t agree with you that things are going to be easy for us. It seems to me that we’re likely meet with difficulties all along the line.” “Everything'll be as right as rain!” Pratt opined cheerfully. “Once you meet your lady, you’ll find what I said about what she said to me was right. She left that swine, Welland, on the same day* that she went away with him. That’s what you've got to bear in mind, sir. Going away with him was a silly thing to do, of course, but she found out the silliness within a

matter of hours, and she’s been heartsorry ever since. “I’ve told you how she went to Baxington, and how your mother persuaded her not to speak to you. She went away, not for her own sake, but for yours; and if she ‘tipped-off’ your friends in Apple-Warley, that was because she thought that hearing the truth might come near to kiling you.” Carruthers smiled, but the smile was strained. “You’re a good advocate,” he said. “And now I’m going to my bed, and you’d better get to yours. I don’t expect to be able to sleep, but I m going to try.” He did sleep, but not till many hours had passed, and during these hours he fought out his great problem. One thing he knew —his love for Mary held. True, his faith had been grievously assaulted, but though it had been battered and bruised, it was not broken. He marshalled in her defence every possible item of fact or She was very young, he told himself; very impressionable and emotional; easily led; quick to err, perhaps, but quicker still to recognise and admit the error. Yet, even had these things not been so, he would have loved her. He could not. have avoided that. The roots of that great emotion which had been born in him as the result of knowing her had gone too deep to be eradicated. He might, have cause to blame, and might give that blame, but, willy-nilly, the blame must be mingled with adoration. When he found her —and find her he would, so he assured himself he would discover, blind though he was whether or not she gave him that love at which Pratt had hinted. Drifting into unconsciousness at last, he dreamed fair dreams—dreams in which he lived again through those fragrant, sun-soaked days when every hour had been fair, and when joy had companioned him always. On the next day he sent for Nurse Robinson and asked her bluntly to give her version of the story which overnight he had heard from Pratt. She had listened to him half-aghast, and the hardness in her eyes had become accentuated while he spoke of his wife. ..... “Yes,” she admitted, I did cheat you about that letter from Mr. Welland, but surely you must know why. “Like the others, you wanted, if possible, to keep suffering from me?” “I did. You can imagine the shock I got when I read that letter.’ “The shock?” “Yes. Oh, 1 don’t suppose you’ll understand, and I’m not sure that I want you to; but I hadn’t guessed that you weren’t really a widower. You remember our last talk in the hospital, and what I was weak enough to say to you?” “I remember,” he said quietly. “Well, I meant that, and I still mean it. You have suffered, and with ajl my heart I’m sorry for you, hut I can’t help wondering what has happened to your pride. If I’d been your wife, I wouldn't merely have pretended love. I’d have given it to the full, and there would have been no question of my running from the home that you’d given me, or of taking a lover when your back w r as turned.” He stopped her there. “Please!” he sa,id, “don’t speak that way. After your goodness to me, and after what has passed between us, I couldn't possibly speak to you harshly. But, despite everything, this girl of mine is still dearer to me than all the world.” “If ever the time comes,” Gladys Robinson said, “when you find out that your goddess has not merely feet of clay, but a heart of clay, too, then remember that there’s someone else who cares.” She went from him on that, and a couple of hours later Carruthers and Pratt started on the first stage of their journey to Baxington. (To be Continued.;