CHAPTER XLV. WOUNDED.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 228, 12 November 1887, Page 10

CHAPTER XLV. WOUNDED.

'The lot is on yon silent tears to weep And patient smiles to wear through au/Terinc's hour. And sumlcss riches, from affections deep, jTj pour on arid sands-n wjisted shower ; And to ruiso idola and to iincl them clay. Ana oli s to love thiough all things: therefore % pi\ij\ FrLICIA IIKMAXiJ. To Geraldine\s astounding amuinciation Geitrudc made no reply. Gfcx^Uiao g.i;:ed on her quiet face with •astonishment, and exclaimed : "Did you hear what I said .' Do you understand it ? Have you cars ? Have you reason ? " " Yes, T heard and understand you, Miss Fit7oovald,'' replied Gertrude. "1 caieely behe\ e that you did. T told you that our marriage a\ ith Cerald Fitzgerald was a saciilegious farce. I told you that Colonel Fitzgeiald knows that, now, and ho has left you for ever. You will ne\ er £>cc him moie. " " That is what you told me," quietly replied (lie young wife. " Well !" exclaimed the lady, amazed at lier cahnness. *' I do not believe it, Miss Fitzgerald, 3 ' said Gertrude, emphatically. "What!" exclaimed Geraldine, in indignant amazement. " 1 do not believe it,'' reiterated Gertrude, even moie emphatically than bcfoie. " How date you —how rum. } ou say that ? Do you presume to doubt my \ eracity ':'' demanded Mis>s Fitzgerald, bendino her burning bl-ick eyes uj)on the young being before j lier as if &he would consume and shmel up | her slender foim. j "Ko, madam, I do not presume to doubt your -\ eracity; but 1 know that you me mistaken," said Ceitrude, with the most provoking peitinacity. "Ah! }ou know that I am mistaken. I'iay, how do you know that?" sneered Geraldine. " Bccai ?e I know that our maniage is a tine and sacied union, and I know my liu -band has not left me for ever, and that ho w ill surely soon icturn," answered Gertiude, with a quiet faith thai infuriated her Jheaier, " You cannot deny," e\claimcdGeialdine, •wHte with suppressed rage, "you cannot deny tli.it he went out last niirht without a void, a me^nop, or a note of explanation. tIW lie icmained away all night and has jtiot e'^ en jefc letui ned ? ' "No," said Geitiude, putting a severe con^ttaint u[)on heifolt, "1 cannot deny that. YeL I ieel sine that he must hu\e been called away suddenly, unexpectedly, and detained by some una\oidable circum stance." ''Indeed !" ciied Geruldino, with a cuil•ing lip. "\\ hy, then, has he not sent }ou a nie^? ige or a note ': Tell me that, if jou p!ea«e. " "I cannot toll you. I do not know. Possibly he ha& ->e:it me one or the other." "Ucaliv! If .so, why have you not leceived it V" *' JNofces and me^ages -enfc sometimes fail to be cielneicd.' GeiakHne spuing up from her seat and began walking up and down the door with Impatient steps ; pic.->ently she paused befoie theq'iiet, :-clf-conti oiled little wife, and sjid . '* \Vhat if tins man hat font \-ou no word of hi-, ib.ienco ':" '' Then he will explain it hereafter." tw Siippo-e he iailo to do so ?" l- Iv will be because lie has 'ome honouiable motne for his silence.'' '• I3.\n !" exclaimed Ueraldine w ith aficice stamp of her foot. " You aie the most cont?m]>l.ibie idiot lo\ er saAv in my life. Look heie ! ' she -I'Uled .-uddenly thi owing herself into her ehaii ; " listen to me ! li jou had not been tho most pitiable of foolt, jou never v. ould ha\ c mairied C-Jciald Fitzgeiald vndei the circumstances." "If I had bfcen such as you re[)resent ins, }>h^s FitLgeiald, Colonel Fit/geiald v/odld never lxi\e made me his wife,"ieji'od (..eituule, with a 'meek dignity pecuiur to herself. "Oh, \o- be would— under the ciicum.staiv es ! It w a.-, bceau-e he knew r that you weiean idiot that he a>ked you to be his ■wife. Ho knew well enough that noiie but an idiot would ha\e accepted him at such a time. 'Why, he only mairied you to icvenge himself upon me, his beloved and betrothed bride, A\ith whom ho was insanely atr_ry. lie bitterly repents now, and lie voirld gi\e his light hand to undo v Irit he h.\.~> done ! Hu never loved yon ! '■'on do not presume to flunk ho c\er loved yoa \Vh\, ho iu;\er even prefcrdtrf to \n\d >ou ! foi with all his faults, Geiald Fitzgdald is d tiuthful man, and would ir iLe no fa No piofc-^ions to any woman. I ricfv yoi 1 to that he even pretended to lo\ c j ou vrhon he as'ced you to many him !"' e>\cloimed (leiaUline, in triumphant scoin. 'iei t/ude was silent. 'M'hv do you not answer me? Did <>erald Fi'zgciald c»cr profess to love \ou ? Answer me, ] sa ( v, diieetly." <- M -.s Fit/ueiald, I consider it improper cc you to ask su"h a nuestion. It would ho still moio iinjnopcr of me to answer it. ou/ely, you know that the confidences betwcja a husband and wife should be held bvicd," mildly lepiied (Jertrudc. Goialdine spiang to her fcc(< with the £.i>'i'ig of a tigie,»s, '« \Vliy cannot I blather where .she stands with one LLi/e fioin my soul ?" slie cried, as :•>.') walked up and down the floor. At length, once more &ho game and threw herself down into the easy-clu'dr, and said, with » '-low, deliberate, scornful cutting intona(,ion : "'Confidences between a husband and wife,'—' confidences between' Oc-ald Fitzgerald and you \-you ! ha ! ha ! Precious little confidence between you, I should •judge, by what I witnessed while I had the doubtful honour of travelling in your -company ! Why, he scarcely spoke to you, ■or e\ci! looked at you. Confidence ! 'ha ! ha ! ha !' (io.lrude remained perfectly quiet under tiiis onslaught-. " Listen, girl !"' continued her tormentor. Xi You iefn-<ed to fui&wor my question. I •will answer it for myself. Geiald Fitzget aid never pretended to love you. He is the so il of honour, and never stooped to faloe pieumsions. Ho never loved you, and i/o 'i know if." Oeitiude was silent. "And low he loathes you. And you '"]> T o, Heaven forbid! Ido nob know that, ' replied Gertrude, gravely. "y, hether you acknowledge it or not, it is true. Clerald Fitzgerald 'foa/Aes' you as the embodied ruin of his life— despises you, as the,. contemptible creature who could catch a man at a rebound and hold him fettered against his will — fettered against his will for life. Yes ! Gerald Fitzgerald nob only never loved you, bub now loathes and despises you, as ho took no pains to conceal, but openly displayed in his every v/ord,, look and act, during our two daysj

journey together. I defy you to contradict me !" exclaimed Geraldine, fiercely. Gertrude did not contradict the statement, but quietly pub out her hand and pulled the bell-rope that hung within her reach. "I am waiting for an answor," said Geraldine, after scornfully regarding the young wife. "You will have one in a few moments," answered Gertrude, calmly. A rap came to the door. "Come in," said Gertrude. A waiter entered, bowed, and inquired : " Did you ring, madam ?" " Yes. Be so kind as to show this young lady to the street door. Good-morning, Miss Fitzgerald," said the joung wife, riding courteously and passing on toward her bedroom. Geraldine Fit/gerald stood for a ni( incut astounded. She had not expected any such nwe from the meek Gertrude, ('•!,• humblo " ferry-girl." The waiter bowed, and stood ready to at tend the lady out. "You can retire. I shall not leave just yet," said Mi?s Fitzgerald, haughtily. The polite waiter bowed again and withdrew. Genlcline walked up lo the chamber door, opened it withouu ceremony, and passed in. bhe surpri&cd Gertrude, in a pensive attitude, seated by the window, looking vacantly out upon the open avenue. She went behind her and tapped her smartly upon the shoulder. Geitrnde started and looked round in surprise. " Thanks for your courtesy in calling a waiter to attend me. but 1 am not quite ready to depait yet,'" said Geraldine, in a mocking -\oice. Then changing bur tone to one of haughty scorn, she continued: "' I *iay, did you imagine thnb 1 could bo dismissed at .your pleasure, like any other unwelcome visitor? No, 3011 do not get rid of me so easily.*' Gertrude gazed on the speaker in utter astonishment. She had not expected to rind such a want of dignity, com tesy, and c\cn common self-iespecb in one 01 Mi^s Fitzgerald's birth and bleeding. Gertrude was too inexpeiieneed to know thatpiide, ! piopiiety, decorum — all minor considerations aie swept away by the impetuous ] toircnt of a passion and a puipo.se such a* piopclled Geraldine now. " No, our interview is not at an end yet. I have something more to say to you,'' continued Geialdine. "If you must resume jour conversation with me, I must lcquesb you, Mis-3 Fit/.geialdj to put some restraint upon yourself. Your wouls not only wrong me — which is of little matter, indeed — b«t they assail my husband's truth and honour. To .such words I connot, and — excuse me — 1 will not listen," said Gertrude, firmly. "Ah !"' sneered Geraldine, "you seem to love this husband, as you call him, very much. Bub do you read)/, now ? Answer me !"' " My husband is the only one who has tl G light to a^k that question of me, and to him only will I answer it r " said Gertiudc, quietly. Geraldine gave a fiery &tarcip of impatience, but almost immediately conti oiled herself and remarked : " You still refuse to answer my questions. Then I must still answor myself. Yes, you do love Gerald Fitzgerald, although you know your lo\e is not returned.'" Gertrude was silent. " Such a love would seem to be pure and unselfish. It is not the trading love of ordinary loveiv>, who exchange lo\e for love ; it gives itself away for nothing," said Miss Fitzgerald, who, having failed to terrify or to exa c perate the gentle, loyal young wife, now essayed to rule her through her disinteiested affection and self-devotion. Geitiude listened, wondering what the lady meant now. Geraldine continued : " Such is the love you bear Gerald Fitzgerald. You do not love him for your own t-ake, but for his hake. You did not many him to please yourself, but to please him — " " Oh, but I must intenupt you hcie, Miss Fitzgerald. I did marry to please myself a= well as to please him. He willed me to be his wife. I delighted to submit myself to his will. I would rather, since he wished me to do so, have become his wife, unlov&d as I was, than to have fulfilled the mo&fc brilliant destiny on earth," said Gcrlrudd, taken off her guaid. Geraldine made a gesture of impatience, but controlled hciself and continued : " Yes, and why ? Because you thought your compliance with his wishes would please him, would make him happy, Did j you not ?" " Yoo," icplied Gertrude, in a lew voice. " Bub you mu«.b see that ib has nob made him happy ; on the contrary, it has made him miserable by ruining his life. And your only object, then, was his h aptness V" " Yes," mm mured Geitrudv>. "And your only object 11 w: is his happi ness?" " Yes," repeated Gertrsdo, coming moio and more under the influence of theshenger natuic by which she was begkvniiig to be magnetised. "You would do anything now to >viustate him in happiness, would you not?" "Heaven knows that I would do anything 9 i(jh( to make him happy. Anything wiong would never do so," said Gertrude. "Of course nob. Now, my girl, I see that you ai^e a different person from what I had supposed you bo bo. You are nob bhe selfish, forward, artful girl people believe you to be. I am very sorry that I, among others, mistook you. lam sure now that you would do, anything you could to re-establish Gerald Fitzgerald in his broken life, (Shall I tell you how you n^y doit?" " Yes, if you please, Miss Fitzgerald." "Bub ib will require some sacrifice on your part."' " That is not worth a moment's though b. Toll me how I can serve Colonel Fitzgerald's best interests." " I thought you would say that. Listen then. You can restore Gerald Fitzgerald to his happiness by an act of the highest virtue and self-devotion. It is needless to remind you, my poor girl, that he married you, whom he did nob and could not love, in a moment of frenzied anger against me, to whom he was betrothed, and whom he had loved for years, and does love still, and must ever love, and that consequently this mad marriage has made him utterly miserable. I say I need not remind you of all this, for you yourself know it well." Gertrude sighed. "How then can Gerald Fitzgerald be saved from the lasting consequences of his own rash act? li 6 can do nothing. Only you can do anything to relieve him."' " Oh, how ?" sighed Gertrude. "By a high act of self sacrifice, as I told you." "Explain. What shall Ido ?" " Listen : When I first came in this evening, I told you that your marriage with Gerald Fitzgerald was a sacrilegious farce. Ib was a sorrowful truth, though boo bitbsrly told." " Oh ! Miss Fibzgorald— a truth?" moaned the young wife. " Yes ; for a man to marry .1 woman whom he does not love is sacrilege. I told yon, further, that Gerald Fitzgerald had left you for ever, and thab you would never see him more. " " Oh, Miss Fibzgorald ! But that was nob the truth," sighed Gertrude.

" Yes, ifc was tho truth, for you will make it so. If you love Colonel Fitzgerald, as you say you do —if you value his welfare more than your own— -if you prefer his happiness; above your own — then, Gertrede, your own! self-sacrifice for his sake will make my words i true. Are you ready to make the sacrifice ?" i solemnly demanded the young lady. "Oh, Miss Fitzgerald, I do not under- 1 , stand you — at least I hope I do not," said the young wife in a great trouble. " I think you do ; but lean explain more clearly. If you love Gerald Fitzgerald more than you love yourself, so that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him, you may make my words true by going away to-day, ' and never seeing him more." "Miss Fitzgerald! You do not mean it !" cried Gertrude, aghast. " Hu&h ! do not interrupt me, my girl. I wish to enlighten you. Your marriage with Gerald Fitzgerald is sacrilegious upon more accounts than one. For at least a half a dozen x'easons, either one of which would be enough to curse it /" Gertrude groaned and dropped her face upon her hands. "Shall I recount these reasons? First then, the marriage is sacrilegious because it was. contracted without love on the bridegroom's pare. Secondly, because it was done for revenge. Thirdly, because it was done in the face of a solemn betrothal existing between the bridegroom and another woman. Attend particularly to this point. Oerald Fitzgerald is a loyal son of tho Roman Catholic Church, as all his forefathers have been for a dozen centuries. I also am a faithful child of the Church, as all my ancestors have been for centurion. In our earliest youth Gerald and myself were .solemnly betrothed, with prayer and benediction by a holy priest. In our holy Church such a betrothal is hold to be almost ns bacred as marriage itself— so sacred, indeed, as nob to be broken by sin or by death. But Gerald Fitzgerald broke through it to marry you. Thereforo was his marriage unholy and unlawful. And being so, the union may properly be dissohed. I have thus shown you the counts upon which your marriage with Gerald Fitzgerald is sacrilegious, a& ha knows it to be as w ell a^ we do. And not only is it puciileoioua in itself, but so unseemly as to impair his worldly position as a gentleman, and so lepugnant to his feelings as to ruin his whole lite'a happiness. Yet he ©an do nothing — ab a gentleman, he can do nothing to free himself. Only you can free him." " How ?" breathed Gertrude, in an. expiring breath. •' By going away at once where lite never will tee you again. That will, after a few years, give him an opportunity to. obtain a le«al dissolution of these unholy bonds." '" Is that what you wish mo to. do, Miss Fitzgerald ?" "\'e^ And understand' me. You shall not go unpiovided. I will give you a thousand dollar?, in fifty dollar notes, and repeat tho donation every six months until \ou ro-mairy, as you will. sona© day." " So thai is what I must do ?" " Yes ; that is what you must do." "JUkd Fitzgerald, it is my sertteace of death. 1 ' " Nonsense ; you will get over it." "It ia my sentence of death., and I am willing to sufler it for my husband's sake." " Noble girl ! I knew you wowld be !" " Bub, Miss Fitzgerald,, I must receive that sentence from my husband's lips alone —from no others—not fiiom. yaara," said Geitrude, with a sweet solemnity, peculiar to hciself in her graver moods. "What?" demanded! Geirakline in her consternation. "I must recehe my sentence only from him to \\ horn 1 have giwen myself ; to whom my life belongs ; a\ ho has the whole disposal of my fate." " Then you will tmvev serve him, for ho will ne\er consent. Gortrwde, you mw-x leave this place without seeing him if yjn would berve him,"' exclaimed Geraldine. " No, I must not, I will not, I dare i*ot. To do so would be to bireak my marijtiage l'oivi. I will lay the whole ca&o befoi^ my husband and abide Ms- decision, whe^er it be for life in his presence, or dg«th in banishment from him.'* " Girl, you hww tbat ho will nearer consent to send, you ay/ay, howevea it may wreck him to keep you. You njwst leave him witho&b consulting him, if you really wish to secure his fa tare happinjes. Come., you need xxq» fear for your fu'wro. I wO! give you a thousand dollars, lit fifty -dollar notes, vhieh I have brought with me,, if you v» tU take your departure within, an hour. I will repeat thi**. sum every six months so. long as you u&ay need it L v# exclfiimed GeraMinc, drawiw§y a portemwnnaie fiomhcr pocket, and beginning to count the T^otes it contained. Gertrude's pure, palo face flushed, yet phe controlled herself, and spoke gentry : Fitzgerald, put up your money. h seems strange that you should permit yourself to offer me such an affront, or that you should liot know that in no case could 1 touch it. Foy the vest, I repeat that I will refer this proposition to my husband, and bo guided by his will, as I have been from the moment he made me his wife." " Viper ! I see your art !" fiercely exclaimed Geraldine. " You know that Gerald Fitzgerald will never put you away, - however much it may blast his life to retain you. In his Quixotic sense of honour he would even think it wrong to do so," "Then, Miss Fitzgerald, if ho should think ib wrong, it would bo "wrong ; for he is the best judge—the only judge," said Gertrude, gravely. Geraldine made, -a gesture of fierce impatienoQ» but controlled herself in a I moment, and said : | " Well, granted for argument sake thab ; it' rsight &com wrong in him to repudiate you now, yet still in your case it would be right, noble, heroic in you to withdraw yourself from him. Women, pure-minded, .self -sacrify ing women, situated as you are, have done such things before. Devoted wives, knowing themselves unloved, feeling themselves to be obstacles to their husbands' welfare and happiness, have withdrawn into solitude and oblivion." "I have readandheardof such women, butl 1 have never undeistood them. I could not be like them. I could not break my marriage vow by leaving tho protection of my husband without his knowledge and consent— no ! not under any circumstances whatever," replied Gertrude. Geraldine stamped her foot impatiently, but again governed herself, and continued : "Know that this marriage of yours is not held sacred. In every point of view you must see that it would bo the one right and proper thing for you— to withdraw yourself from Colonel Fitzgerald." " I will refer tho question to my husband, and be guided by his decision,'' said Gertrude, firmly. Geraldine Fitzgerald sprang to her feet, her face livid with pa&sion. "So this is your game, then, is it ?" she^ fiercely hissed between her closed teeth' '• This is your game— to profess a deep self ( devotion that you do not mean to practise • To pretend to submit to Gerald Fitzgerald's will while you hold him in the bonds of loveless, wicked, hateful marriage ! Oh, subtle deceiver 1 Oh, plausible hypocrite ! I know you ! Know you now ! Know you now ! I knew you from the first ! But listen, minion !" she said, dropping her voice to its lowest, sternest tones and fixing her burning eyes fiercely upon thoso of Ger-

I trude — "Listen to me!, Your life with ' t Gerald Fitzgerald will be a hell on earth so I long as it lasts, for he will hats- you as he { hates Satan ! Ho has already begtm to hate you, you must see and feel that he has. / I saw it in his demeanour towards you during ; the stage-coach journey ! Your life with him will be a living death for as long as it shall last ! but it shall not last long, for, by my soul's salvation, I swear that I myself will end it, in one way or other. jr And with this sinister threat the furious young woman turned and left the room.