INTRODUCTION.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 265, 19 May 1888, Page 3

INTRODUCTION.

' 'Foimal proofs ha\ing been gi\on of thoo fact 1 -, tho juiy, l>y In-, Loidship's diiection, found toi petitioner, <mcl his l.<)i<l-lnp pumounced «"i decieo ni^i with eost^.. 1 How dreadtul ! Vow jimii^ Berwick ; and Mr.s Ashtord, too ' 'IV a>>Miid, 1 tell }ou, iMrk, 'tis alisiud.' ' I am \ci) glad to licai t \ on -o, m\ dear t.ithei - I knew % \ou would not, 10->e fait h in Asllcy Beiwiek, one ot the best fellows in the world.' 1 You <iio light, boy ; he is a good follow, and all t he lh\ oire Com t- in the world will nr\e." alter m> opinion ot him. It is an internal con-pnaey tiom beginning to end ; it must be— >et tis haul to beliexe that Ashtotd, with all hi- fault-, would lend him-elt to such wllain^.' ' [ \\ii\G an idea, pater, which has taken deep loot in my mmd — that it is possible Ashtoul may be innocent/ ot any actual pail in this plot. Do you understand me '!" ' Well, no. 1 can't say L do." ' 1 mean, that it tin- is n eon<<puacv--and 1 ha\eno doubt it is -Ashtord may have been led to take the steps, he did take by faKe lepresontations and jealousy combined.' 'Jealousy' Nonsense, boy. I don't believe Ashtoid lo\ed his w ite sulhciently to tool <i spark of jealous}. What is it, James ?' A sonant had cnteied and handed a note to the speaker, Mr Richard Broadley, who, with his son Dick, was discussing this matter, in which they were both deeply in-teie.-ted. They were scaled in the dining-room at Xo. '-, Onslow Squaie, dinner being o\er, and the ladies ot the family ha\ing letired. The divorce c.ise they aic speaking of is th.it of Ai-htoid v. Ashfosd and Bciwiek, which caused some sta at the time. It, .shall lie put befoie the leader as delicately as po-.-iblc. The petitioner Mr Ashfoid, generally known as Tom Ashtoid, is a gentleman icputed in fashionable ciiclos to be a leekles;?, f.ist -going fellow, who, pre\ious to the suit, became possessed ot large estates in Oxtoidshne by the death ot his. pitcrnal uncle, Willoughby As-htord, ot Ashton Park and Scud more i Louse, in that county. l.ctoie his uncle's death he was engaged to the beautiful and wealthy Miss Whitcombe, an oiphau, who, with a Noungcr si-Lei of equal beauty and wealth, h\ed w ith her aunt at »Scoto\er, near Oxfoid Jt w;i.s old Willoughby's one wish that t hoe two should come together, and Tom Ashfoid had piomuscd him, on his deathbed, that he would many hoi within twelve month-. They were manied at St. (Jeoigc's jlano\er .Squaie, and, after a hone) moon on the Continent, went to iodide at A^hton I'aik, wheic they ..ppeaicd to bo \eiy happy. In due eour-e they came to London tor 'the -oason,' Floienee \Vhitcombe (Mis Ashfoul h younger si^tci) accompanying: tlicm Lo a charming little house in Heiofoid Squaie, the property ot Mis Ashtoid. Here they weio visited by Mr Boiwiek, \vhoso lather \va^ a clergyman and held a lhmg near Oxfoid, "S oung x\.stley Berwick had been very intimate with the MKses Whitcombe for many year.s, until he had come to London somotweho months before Mrs Ashtord s niartiagc, and had been taken into the othce ot Broadley and Son, the worthy head of the linn being an old fiicnd ot Attlcy'.s father, and the two boys having been .schouliellowH. It had been greatly wished by Mrs Ashtord long bcfoie bhe changed her name to see Astley married to her bister Floicncc as soon as he should ha\e aeeuied to himself tome po-ition in the world, and to train this she had, in the kindest manner possible, gi\ en the young people every opportunity of ■iceing each ofchei. I'lorcnce, who had no secrets from hoi bi-tcr, \vas deeply attached to Astley, though he had never spoken his love. It was clear enough to Mis Ashfoid that her sister was loved, but she felt that Astloy was doing light in not speaking until^hc was moro a.-sured as to his future prospects. As, however, he had been some time with Broadley and .Son, and he had recently told her that he had very fair prospects tor the future, ma-much as kindhearted old Mi 1 Broadley had told him that he should ere long and let him into the business as partner to carry on the haino with his son, she thought there was eveiy likelihood of an engagement takingplace between him and her dear Florence. Still Astley held back.and though availing himself of the opportunities he had of being much in the society of the charming Florence and her sister, no word was said by him relative to his hopes of an ultimate marriage. In the meantime Tom A&hford began, apparently, to weary of his life with his lovely young wife, and was often away from home, .staying away tor days together. On the banks of the Thames, between Twickenham and Teddington, are situated many charming villa residences with sloping lawns reaching to the river side. The reader may have noticed one in particular that is remarkable by reason of its numerous gables. This beautiful villa stands in lovely grounds, rich with flowers, and having a smooth green lawn sloping gracefully to tho very brink of the water. On one side is a boat-house, built to resemble a pagoda, and largo enoueh to contain three goodly-sized boats. It is a lovely afternoon in June, tho London soason is at its height, and many lovers of the river have been lured from town to enjoy a row on the dear old Thames. A boat is pulled toward the lawn before

mentioned. A gentleman may bo seen to ' ship oars ' and spring ashore, giving instructions to his servant to take the boat m. Apparently this is not the fiivsb time the man has heard this order here, for no sooner h'js his master turned his back than ho guides the boat to the pagoda, unlocks the door with a key from his pocket, and is soon seen emeiging on the other side, making his way to tho house, the approach from tho boat-hou.se to tho servant's o dices being divided from tho garden by a wall covered with ivy. Moan while, Tom Ashfoid, for it is no other, when half way acioss the lawn is met by a lady who throws her arms about him exclaiming : ' Ah, Tom, this is indeed kind ot you, my own dailing; L thought you would come back.' '1 cannot lease you, my sweet Flo. ] thought when last I .was heio that J could irivo you up, but it is useless ; I cannot, so now ' • So now, my love, you are all mine as of old ; is not that so. deaicst ?' 4 You forget, Flo', my ' ' Don'!/ say it, deaiost. I know T cannot iill that position in the eyes ot the world which you once piomiscd r.\o, but we will live for each other. Who need be the wiser V' 1 'Oh ! Flo', my dcaiot, is it light foi us to do this thing ? No, no, it must not be, and yet ' 1 And yet, Tom ?' ' Do not press- me, Flora dailing ; you know 1 mean well though I do wrong.' 'My poor Tom ; the old, old story, eh? The st niggle between love and duty, ha ! ha ! But lo\o wins', eh ? Naughty man !' Poor Tom A-^hfoid! Js it right to pity him? \\ lio .shall say? How many men aic there who, having good wives and true, arc doing tho «-amc. Alas ! that such should be the ea«c. With such a wife as Tom has too - faithful, patient, gentle, accomplished and beautiful. Why win her to neglect her? Ah l why indeed! Why lay siogc lo one ■<» f.iii, «-o beautiful, & o hue, so noble Man knows not his own heai I. Whom Tom manied, had anyone questioned his !o\e foi his fhaiining biiilc he would ha\e ben wroth Ho, at lua-.t, behe\ed in it, but t hen he was away fiom Flora w ho cntin. died lam, who had e\ en so f.winated him as to bung him to liei feet pleading foi hei hand. At tin; moment he promised his uncle he would marry K\a Whilcombe, he was setietly bound b\ a pi onuso to Flora It was at his lequoht that his engagement with her was kept seciet. Uhy ' Tom% uncle was wealth}. At the time of his death Tom was deeply in debt, not so deeply as to hurt him after faking possession ot the estates left him by his uncle, but quite badly enough to ciipple him tor life it his uncle had seen lit to cut him oil' with a shilling. He mariied Eva to please his uncle, bclio\ing that ho loved her, and they were apparently \ery happy ; so happy thatE\a used to think her happiness too great to last. L'ntil Tom fell in again with the fascinating Floia all went well. E\en then he tried t) do his duty, but he was not strong enough. They met seveial time, and upon each occa.-aon she asked him to visit hci. lie hold out bia\el} at (iir-t, but in a weak moment he consented to go to sec her .it Twickenham. But what ot hci "' Slighted, despised, jilted, thrown o\er for .mother - still seeks him and eagcily ask- him to come to her. Docs she — can she lo\c him s(m ,' What w ill not some w omen go thiough for love? Is it Inn .she lecls foi him v Ah' leader, boari'i mind .bjrni lead this, wh.it this woman hai Mifleied. Though \oumay ha\e been spared such trials ,i-* heis though you may be pn i o and .stainless, be not haul upon her. Flora Hamilton was (vo days a wife ! The I\C\ . Thomas K-conibe held a small lining in Beikshire. Hew a- one of those easy -going old gentlemen who trouble iJiemsehes little about domestic ailairs, ami Mia Es-combe was a lad) devoted to her two cluldien and the welfare ot her hu-s blinds paiishionei.s. A woithy couple. Their children were Heibert, the elder, and Flora. At an only age Herbert showed a disposition forioaming, which was giatiliecl by his being sont to JSow Zealand. Shoitlyaticr hit- dej)artuie, Flora, while \isiting some fiicniLs in the neighbourhood, met, and was inti educed to Captain Hamilton, a gentleman ot good toi tune, who was in Berkshiie foi the shoot ing. Pool Flota, then a wild eounhy biaut), w.is I'.atteied by his attentions, while he wa- simply amusing him-elf at her expense, and she &oon giew to lo\e him. They met again the following ye - ir at (he h'HisO of a commoii mend, alter which he took up his quaiteis at the \illagc inn in her father's parish ostensibly toh'sh, was a frequent visitor at her fathers house, and mined her. lie slaved two months at the village and then went away, no ho said, to make prcpaiations for their maniag-e, stating th.it he wished the aflair kept a secret for family lea.sons w liieh ho could not explain. I Day after day, week after week, month after month passed and he did not ictiirn. At last came a letter begging Flora to come . to him in London as he was seriously ill, having received some internal injury thiough a cairi.ige accident. She went to him, leaving father and mother, and found him dangerously ill. He asked her not to leaxo him again, and confessed to her that he had deserted her, intending to cast her ofl ; that he had led a very bad life, and since leaving hci he had been more reckless than over, but his en joyment of life seemed gone. He told her that her image was e\cr present with him. Would she iorgivc him and they would be married when ho got better ? Would she lorgive him v Him, her darling, her only love, for whom she had sacrificed all ! She .stayed with him, nursing him tcndeily, lovingly. She wrote to her father and mother telling them not to be anxious about her, and that she was well and happy. Alas'. Alas! tiwl neASs flies quickly. Scandal had ahcady said the worst of her to her parent-*. Their answer was— that a? she had left her homo for a life of sin, she should never more return to them— a long sermon, and— banishment. Hamilton had mimeious visitor- 8 , gentlemen friends, but no lady entered his doors while Flora was with him. ' One morning, after an evening of unusual good spirits, he said he felt Avor.se and too ill to rise. Tom Ash ford, who was a daily visitor, called to sec him and lemained with him some time, alone. When he left the sick-room ho sought Flora, who aheady looked upon him as a dear friend. He told her he was afraid poor Hamilton was getting weaker, and that ho had expressed a groat desire to marry her at once, in case anything should happen to him. Poor Flora ! She would have waited till he got better ; bub this was not to bo. The samo day the doctors agreed that Hamilton's end was near— that he might live a few days or might die in an hour or two. It was decided that thoy should be married with as little delay as possible, he beinf ny st anxious lest death should prevenlTbhis one honourable act. The wocl- \ cling took placo in his bedroom ; ho was too 1 1 weak to leave it.

'My poor Flora,' said Hamilton, kindly 'I would that I could live to make, you happy, but I cannot hopo for this. May (i od forgive- mo Iho bins that J have committed and especially the wrong that I did you. You are now my wile. Alas ! you [ will soo'i bo a widow. 1 He caused his affairs to bo arranged and left all his property to Flora, unreservedly. Ho asked his friend Ashford to do what he could for her and be a friend to her. Two days alter, ho died, his wife and Tom Ashford being present. The wealthy and beautiful Airs Hamilton soon had many acquaintances at her villa at Twickenham, whither she- removed shortly after her husband's funeral, but ' society '—the women, that is— knew her not. Jiy Society' she was called 'that woman who made Hamilton marry her,' and ' that Hamilton woman.' -Poor Floia ! Her troubles were not o\cr Her child, a boy, lived but three days. She gave- way to grief and would see nobody for a long time. Her health suffered, and she was ad\i»cd to go to Cheltenham for change. it was here .she again met Tom Ashlord, who was ' vegetating,' as he termed it, out of the way of his creditor*. Tom, as a matter of eoiu.se, wis veiy attentive to her, drove her out, and when she was stronger took her for walks. Is it to bo wondered ah that they loved each other ? She soon roeovcred her health and, Tom thought, became more beautiful than ever. She saw as much of Ashford as she could ; in fact, monopolized him. Tom submitted without a struggle, and upon her icturn to Twickenham, escorted her home. Strange though it may seem, she consented to a secret engagement. After her cxpeiicnce of secret engagements one can hardly understand it. But so it was. Tom Seriously meant to be true. He told her lie wished to humour his ' poor old uncle ' who designed him for another, and ho nrulc such a good case that she submitted nc\cr doubting his lo\eand trusting him implicitly. Things went on in this way for about a year, Tom being a frequent visitor at her house. Then followed the visit to his uncle, when, as we ha\c seen, he resumed his acquaintance with Eva Whitcombe. He was hequontly with her, and soon began to think le^ of Flora. Old Willoughby sickened and died, and Tom, faithlc-^ and cruel, mm lied K\a, shutting poor Flora out of his heait and leaving her to what ? 'Io attempt to dcs libe her feeling-, when ncufotthe mairiagc 1 cached her tlnough ' The Time-,' were useless. She struggled and fought to kill her love ; she prayed that .she might forget ; 'twas useless. Her love would not be killed ; but there grew in her bo-om another pa-sion as strong as the lo\c she bore tor Tom — hatred of his w ife. She knew her not, but that mattered little ; -she hated her and felt that she could make almost any sacrifice to see her suffer, ay, even as she herself had _ suffered All too soon were her wishes realised ; how fai she was too blame in bringingabout these unhappy reMilts will be shown in tho sequel. We have learnt how she drew Tom to her side asrain, and though neither you nor I, readei, can hold him blameless — far from it— we say Poor Tom '

CILUTIUI 1. Tin r.novnu.Ys-. Ik i ,i ) car ha- ul.ip-.cd, bub one .shoib >cai, f-inco A«htord led Ins young brklo to the alia) , tind \s hal do we ic^ v A decree ni-i in the ca.se of A-htoid v Ash ford and Berwick. Mi Bioidlev, s O nioi, h a hue looking man. soinculi.it stout, lmt healthy-looking, with a llond complexion, kind blucc^es, and hair which once was a neh biown, but is now sihercl with white, and i.s still t.hick and \\a\y; an aquiline nose, a wellcub mouth and a good chin, lie wears neither beard nor moustache, but has Ml\crcd biown w hi-kcrs— altogether a line specimen ol an Knglish gentleman. Such is Kichaid Broadley, senior, ot the him ot Hioadlev and Son, merchants, London, and Mich is Kichaid Broadley, lw(., of Remington Hall, Buckinghamshire, and Onslow Square. .South Kensington. Whether in London or country, in hi- city olhce or country study, m his town house or country house, Richard Bi oa,d ley i.s aliko loved and honoured. Ric'iard Bro<ulle.\ , junior, it. a 'chip of the old block ' in e\'ciy lespcct ; having described the father, it is suilicienb to bay that Broadlc> is a handsome fellow, and is —so all admit who know him- as good as lie is handsome. The old gentleman opened the letter which the servant had handed to him ; it nn as follows :—: — ' JMy dear Mr Broadlcj',— You will have read civ yon rcconc this that the trial is ended. Painful as was the suspense, there was, then, hope. Now all is over. . TnforlmiaMy.l do not standalone under this dreadful charge. I have determined, with your '. peruus-ion, to lea\ o the i-oiintrr and bo to New Zealand, as soon as 1 can possibly get away. I would have called instead ot writing, but I can not. It I w ere guiUy, L should be braver. I "I shall uw.ul >our rcplj before I take any ' I am, d°av Mr Hi'otidlcy. Your, faithfully, AS'lliKY 1315KW ICK. 1 ' Poor boy '" Mr Bro.idlcy evclaimed, when he had read this aloud to his son. ' What shall we do, Dick ?' ' Father, will > on grant me a favour ?' 'What is it, Dick, my boy?' ' Have him here, and show the world thab we, at least, still honour him,' siid the youn<r fellow. ' Will he come, think you ?' said ulr Broadle} , ' I fe.u- the wound it= too deep.' ' Ask him, father, do. Shall I write ? ; • Ko ; I will write myself, as his letter is tome. At the same time 1 will nob stand in lm way i\ he inMst* upon going to New Zealand.' it might be beso for him,' said the good old gentleman, musingly; ' howovci" 1 will go to my study and think the matter mer. and do what hccm.s best foi him. Poor dear boy- -dear, dear, dear !'

I CHATTER 11. A^THiA lihUW ll'K. Si.atkd in an easy chair, his elbows on his knee-, and his head resting on his hands,, is Asllcy Berwick. A noble-looking fellow is Abtloy, with his lofty brow and crisp, curly hair, his line, open countenance, his hones b blue eye?, and manly bearing. Even now cast down as ho ia by sorrow, there can be no mistakingthetruegentleman and the spe* meet in Deo which is stamped upon him. The room is a well-furnished ono on the first (loor of a house in Margaret- street, Cavendish Square. Upon the table near which he is sitting is a picture stand formed likeaneasolsupportingacabinet-sized photograph, beautifully coloured, of Florence Whitcombo. Astley raises his head and gazes fondly upon the picture, exclaiming : 1 Is this the position I have made for you ? Is this what 1 have waited for ? Oh ! my God, my (!od ! What have I done that I should suller so ?' So overcome is he by sorrowful feelings that he docs not hear the door open, nor see a 'lady and gentleman who stand for a moment gazing sadly upon him. ' My poor boy,' exclaimed Mrs Berwick, advancing with outstrotched arms.

« Oh ! Mother V It was all he could say aa he threw his aims round her and hid his face on her shoulder. Asbloy was dearly loved by his parents. They hart come to town to see him, when they heard the result of the divorce case, which had caused them so much trouble, feeling that ho would need comfort in his great trial. ' You have not deserted me, mother, nor you, father. Can you &till love me V ' How, boy V said the Reverend Doctor; ' have you done anything to forfeit our love V 'Indeed, no,' said A^tloy, drawing him self up ; ' but you know of what I have been accused, and what the Court has decreed ?' 1 1 have seen all, my boy, and black as you have been painted, I do not doubt you,' nor do I doubt Eva for a moment. Knowing you both as I do.it would bo impossible to think you guilty.' ' Thank you, dear father ; God grant I may live to see the perjurers brought to justice.' ' Amen.' ' And, mother mine, I need not ask you., 'My boy!' exclaimed the fond mother. ' you know I could not think ill of you.' Father, mother and son now sat down to talk over mattots, Astley telling them of his intention to go to New Zealand, or anywhere where he could begin life with an untarnished name. Poor fellow ! He little thought what was in store for him. Dr. Berwick approved the plan, and Mrs Berwick, good soul, spoko cheerfully of his leaving home, though her heart was wellnigh breaking at the pro?pecfc of losing him. It was late when they left him, his father promising to see Mr Broadley on the following day and discuss the matter with him. 'Thank God!' exclaimed Astley when they had left him. ' They do not doubb my innocence.' (To he Continued. )