THE EARL'S WIFE. NO. I.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 348, 6 March 1889, Page 6

THE EARL'S WIFE. NO. I.

1 Silence ! Order ! Turn them out !' ' The chairman of the Royal Varietie q Music Hall rapped his hammer on the table and glanced imploringly at apmate box which was just over the stage. The comic singer who was yellinsr a popular song at the top of his . voice came forward and glared in the same direction, and the audience, fairly roused to indignation b^ the constant interruptions to the perfoimance which had proceeded from this particular box for the last half hour, hissed and groaned and shouted until at last the uproar became so tenih'c that the manager felt that something must be done to alter the situation, ov a riot would be the result. Making his way to the private box, towards which every eye in the building was now directed, the manager gave a timid little knock at the door and then enteied hesitantly, hab in hand, and exclaimed almost apologetically, 'Really, my lord, 1 must ask your lordship not to irritate the audience. I'm very sorry, but they don't like ifc, and I'm sure your lordship wouldn't do anything to injure us in our business.' His lordship, who when the manager entered was leaning out of his box and making defiant and dei'isive grimaces at the howling, gesticulating mob beneath hrri, drew hi-* head in, turned quickly round and with a good-natured grin replied, ' All right, old man. Keep your hair on. If there's any damage I'll pay for it. Come aud have a drink !' ' No, thank you, my lord, not now. If you'll sib back in the box, perhaps the audience will let the business go on.' The young fellow addressed as ' his lordship,' turning to his companions, three men considerably older than himself, said, 'Come along, boys; old Smithers isn't a bad sort, and I've had enough of it. Let's Ro.' A minute afterwards the box was empty, and the audience, belie\ ing that their demand had been complied with, and that the ' swells' had been ejected, gave a loud cheer and then settled down to the peaceful enjoyment of the interrupted programme. Old William, the stall waiter, who had suspended the operation of opening a bottle of beltzer to watch the result of the managerial interview, jerked his head as soon as the ' incident ' was over, and muttered half to himself, half to the customer he was serving, ' He is a hot 'un, and no mistake.' ' Who is he? 1 said the customer. ' Don't you know him ?' replied old William ; ' why, I thought everybody knew him. That s the Hurl of Dashton. You've heard of hi.n, ain't you?' The customer replied that he had. There were very few people who had not ; for the young Earl who had only iately succeeded to the title had contrived to make himself notorious in a remarkably short space of time. The society papers were constantly paragraphing his ' eccentricities,' and he was at once the delight and the terror" of those places of public amusement which are the fa\ (write haunts of the ' fast' youth of the day. He was a delight because he scattered his money light and left with a Luish hand, and he was a tenor because when under the influence of ' refreshment,' he conceived and executed certain ' sprees ' and 'larks' which generally ended in petting the place in an uproar. Young Lord Dashton was, of cour?e, not without his apologists. His youth and high spirits were urged as extenuating circumstances, and it was pointed out that for much of his ill-regulated conduct his early training was responsible. The late Earl and Countess had not been happy in their married life. The Countess had gone her way and the Earl had gone his, and their only son had been left to the care of strangers and to the companionship of grooms and servants. The Countess died when her son was little more than a child, and the boy had grown up without one single good influence to shape his character. On the death of his father he found himself in the possession of a historic title, vast estates, and a magnificent income. He had made no good acquaintances, and the bad ones naturally came about him and toadied to him and encouraged him in his rowdy recklessness. They applauded his maddest freeks, and they led him to believe that in outraging every law of social decorum he was showing the world what a line, manly, independent spirit he had. On the night that Lord Dashton left the Music Hall 'to oblige the manager," he proceeded with his friends, Tom Major, Bill Joyce, and Captain Kilby, to the latter's chambers, and there spsnt the remainder of the evening over a quiet game of cai-ds, his lordship before the part}' broke ' losing just a couple of hundred ;' nothing to him, but very acceptable to the other gentlemen who "had no 'fixed income.' Tom Major and Bill Joyce were not gentlemen, but they were good sportsmen and good fellows, and that was sufficient for the Earl. Captain Kilby was a gentleman — that ia to &ay, his father was a gentleman, and the Captain had held Her Majesty's commission. But the Captain had been 'unfortunate,' I believe that is the correct term, and at the age of eight and thirty was glad to know a man with money, especially if that man was young and generous and didn't mind now and then having a run of bad luck at the card table. On the night of the music hall affair, after his lordship had gone home, Mr Joyce and Mr Major stayed to smoke a pipe with the Captain, and over the pipes the conversation became exceedingly interesting. 1 Well, Bill,' said the Captain to Mr Joyce, ' what does your sister say ?' ' She don't say much,' replied Mr Joyce, ' except that she doesn't think he really cares for her.' ' Do you ?' f Well, he certainly appears to be dead gone on Loo, but with a chap like him that don't mean anything.' ' Bub it does, my dear fellow,' exclaimed the Captain ; 'it mean 3 a good deal. He told me this morning that if it wasn't that his relations would make such a thundering fuss about it, there's no girl in the world he'd sooner marry than Loo Joyce. You forget, Bill, what a pretty girl your sister is.' 'Yes, 1 know.' replied Joyce,- his hard face relaxing for a moment, ' and she's as good as she is nretty. If I'd known as much as I do now I'd never have let Dashfcon s.oe her. Poor Loo ! she's stuck to me through thick and thin, and never had a word of reproach for me though I've been a bad lot ever since I chucked the office and took to the " game." ' ' Loo's a trump !' exclaimed Mr Major, ' and no mistake about that,' a

' Sho's been a good, hardworking, brave lilble woman over since the clad diod and wo were left, to shift for ourselves. And when I've been out of luck she's known it, and many a time I know she's gone without things she wanted and given mo the money she's had to work jolly hard to get, i and whon her trouble came she bore it like a Briton. I tell you, fellows, it goes again&t the grain with me to bo mixing hoc up with our game.' ' Confound it all, old fellow,' exclaimed the Captain,' ' I can't see where the harm comes in as far as Loo's concerned. All things considered, it's the best thing she could do.' Bill Joyce shrugged his shoulders. ' I can't expect you to see it as I do,' he said. ' But Dash ton isn't a bad-hearted fellow, Bill,' said the captain. 'At any' rate the chance is too good to be missed. It'll be a good thing for us all if wo work it properly, and I'm certain if wo only let him see her now and then, and then keep her away from him a bit, and pretend that he's compromising her with a rospoctable young man who wants to marry her, and all that &orfc of thing, he'll be hooked beyond wriggling off again. Come, my lad, isn't it worth trying for ? It all rests with you now.' ' No, it doesn't, it reste with Loo. Don't tilk any more about it to-ivght. I'll think it over. I'm tired now. Come on, Tom, you're going my way. (Jood-night, Ivilby.' A month after the interview in Captain Dilby's room, Louie Joyce, a tall tine handsome giil of two-and- twenty, sat at breakfast with her brother. Louie had been crying 1 , and her beautiful blue eyes wore still suffused with tcais. ' Come, Loo,' said her brother, ' yon mustn't break down now. I'm sure that everything will be for the best.' 'I wish I thought so, Will,' replied his sister, ' but I am not blind. You have been anxious about this marriage because you believed it would give me position and wealth, but Captain Kilby, Tom Major, and their set must have some other motive. I feel as if I were part of some wicked plot, as if I were going to do some terrible injui y to poor Hugh in marrying him. And then you won't let me tell him my secret either, I feel like an accomplice in a fraud, and that is not a pleasant feeling to get married with, Will.' ' What a romantic little puss you are,' exclaimed Will Joj'ce, with a forced laugh. ' If you had kept on the stage you would have been able to play the romantic heroine beautifully in time.' ' I wish I had kept on the stage until 1 had made a position as an actress. I should feel less scruple in marrying Hugh then. I know what people will say when the news getd about — that Hugh has been trapp£d into a maniage by a designing chorus girl, and everybody will look upon me as an artful designing minx, and if it ever comes out that ' ' Nonsense ! A title covers a multitude of sins, and when you are a countess, people will soon forget what you were previously, and as to the other business, as nobody but Kilby and Major knew about it, that's not likely to crop up.' ' Oh, I'm not ashamed of what I've been, Will. I've earned my living honestly and worked hard enough for it, God knows, bub I feel thatjn marrying me, Hugh is injuring himself and his prospects. His people will hate me, of course, and the poor boy will be told every day that he's made a fool of himself.' ' That's sure to be, my dear. It would have been the same ii you had been a second Mrs Siddons. Bub you'll make Dashton a good little wife, and there'll be plenty of Earls who will wish that they had as pretty and amiable a little Countess to take about with them as Dashton will have. Come, no more tears, there's a dear. You've got an hour to get ready. The carriage will be here at eleven, lemember. Come, look your best, and Uod bless you. I niusb #o and dress myself.' An hour later Mr Joyce and his sister stepped into a brougham which was waiting for them at the hotel door, and drove to a quiet little church in the neighbourhood. No one to have seen Louie would have suspected that it was her bridal morn. She was dressed in a neat little travelling costume, and wore a bonnet and veil, which was thick enough to partly conceal her features. At the church there was no sign of anything out of the common. The fact that a wedding was about to take place had been kept a, profound secret by everybody concerned. The verger and the pew opener had been paid to keep their knowledge to themselves. At the church door young Lord Dashton was waiting with Captain Kilby, his best man, and Tom Major, and the fair sex was represented b"y Lottie Foster, Louie's bosom friend at the theabie, and her cousin Katie Joyce, who was under governess at a small girls' school at Clapham, and had obtained a day's holiday to be present. The Earl and his ' pal* ' had suggested a registry-office for the ceremony, but Louie had insisted upon a church wedding, and the other side had been obliged to gi\e way. A flush of pride passed over the young peer's face as he stood beside Louie at the altar. She was a girl any fellow might be proud to call his wife, he thought to himself, and felt beautifully defiant with regard to the adverse criticism which society might pass upon his choice of a countess. The ceremony was performed by an elderly clergyman in a perfectly matter-of-fact way. Louie couldn't help thinking ones or twice how terribly he missed all the be&t points, but she gave her answers firmly and clearly. When it was all over the Earl gave his young wife a hearty kiss, and that brought the tears to her eyes, but she brushed them away in a minute and lowered her veil hurriedly. Then the wedding party went into the vestry, the usual formalities were concluded, and the whole party drove to the Charing Cross Hotel, where a quiet little breakfast was served. Katie Joyce, the governess, didn't quite understand all that the Captain and Lottie For3ter talked about, and she could only be persuaded to take just one glass of champagne, and that was to drink ' Long life and happiness to the bride and bridegroom.' She thought it very wonderful for her pretty cousin to be a countess, and she wondered what the butchers' and bakers' daughters at the Clapham school would think of her if they knew she was own cousin to a peeress. Lottie Foster was the merriest of the party, chaffed Captain Kilby unmercifully, making the young Earl laugh heartily at her witty sallies. Louie and Will were very quiet. Once when they | both sat silent and absorbed, their eyes suddenly met. The same thought was in tho minds of each, and both their faces reddened, Will's with a look full of guilt, and Louie's with a flush of shame. For a moment the man bitterly regretted the ignoble comedy in which he had compelled his sister to take part. But it was too late to draw back now ; the deed was done and the comedy must go on. Fortunate indeed for all parties concerned would it be if it remained a comedy to the end, and did not in its later acts trench upon the domain of tragedy. A year had elapsed since the marriage of tho Earl of Dashton with the pretty chorua

girl. Society had been sbarlled at first by the news, and the young bride was the object of considerable attention whenover she , appeared in public with her husband. The I Earl's relatives were furious, and naturally put the young lady down as a designing creature, who had played her cai'ds we\l. But if Louie Joyce had played her cards well, the Countess of Dash ton played them still better. Sho bore her naw honours modestly but gracefully and the severest temale critics were bound at last to admit that the chorus girl knew how to bohavo herself, and that sho had a good denl more natural dignity than her husband. A woman can always moio readily admit herself to improved circumstances than a man There is a certain amount of tact in the feminine composition which is goneially conspicuous by its absence in the masculine. A butler may marry a lady's maid and rise to wealth and position. The butler will be a butler to the end of his chapter, the lady's maid will become so far a lady that she will make her now circle of frionds and acquaintances forget that she was e\er a sei vant. But though Louie held her own bravely, and at last stemmed the tide of hostile ciiticism, she was unable to completely destroy the evil influences which surrounded her husband. His constant companions and associates weie still the set ot adventiuers and sharps who toadied to him and preyed upon him in his bachelor days. Captain Kilby and Tom Major were constantly his guests when the Earl was at his country seat, and in town they were his inseparables. Louie* brother was one of the party occasionally, but of late "they had seen nothing of him. He told his sifter that he was going abroad with a young fellow who wanted a travelling companion ; but something in his manner when he came to say good-bye made the Counters uneasy. She had an undefinod foi'ebuding that sonicthing was going to happen — the something that she had always dieaded, and that thin was why Will was going to get out of the way. Louie knew well enough when .she married the fast and foolish young nobleman that Kilby and Major and her brother had a motive in promoting tho match. Hey brother's friends were not tho men to go out of their way to secure good fortune for other people without they alfao sliaied in it themselves, and in this instanco she felt confident that they had played for a big stake. But what \va3 it ? Money they had had out of the Earl when he was single — not so much, perhaps, as they expected, for his lordship was no fool, and it was his boast that if he hadn't been a wealthy man he would have made a very good 'sharp ' himself. Even as it was ho was credited with having been on one or two occasions mixed up in transactions on the tnif and at the card table that were of a doubtful chai actor. Theie are some men who, if they were millionaire 0 , would prefer a hundred pounds made 'on tho ctoss ' to a thousand earned ' on the square,' and it was whispered that the young Earl Dash ton had already shown that he had the instincts ot the blackleg, and that thoso instincts only wanted a favourable opportunity to develop themselves. The crang ot good-for-nothings who had fastened themselves on to the young nobleman when he came into his -\ast fortune, with the intention of — in the elegant language of the fraternity — ' cutting him up,' soon found that they had a harder task than they had bargained for. His lordship was fieo-handed with his money, and spent it bravely, but he didn't lend the large sums that were required for ' a few weeks.' Now and then his lordship would lose a hundred or two at a friendly game, but ho let it be seen plainly that he was merely obliging his frionds, and that it wouldn't do for them to treat him as a fiat too often. On his marriage with Louie Joyce ho did iv hat ho had agreed to : he paid Will Joyce's debts, which, according to that young gentleman's uwn showing;* amounted to £6,000, but he gave Will to understand that he mustn't presume upon the lelationship to ask for any further assistance. It is perhaps needless to say that of this nice little ' bit ' of ready money the Captain and JNlr Major had their share. These two gentlemen had assisted Will all along in the marriage scheme, and it had been agreed from the commencement that they were to share in tho profits of the transaction. Louio Joyce was perfectly well aware of the sum wnich her brother was to receive, and &he gue«&cd that his associates would share it wilh him &he had a taint hope that pcihaps the sum would satisty them, but knowing something of their character, she could hardly biing herself to believe it. A "year, however, had gone by, and so far as she knew no further attempts had been made to reap any fuither advantage. Sho had dreaded that some proposition would be made to her ; that she would bo asked to further the schemes of the conspirators bv betraying her husband into their hands. She had determined from the first that she would do no such thing, but that at all risks, if she found her husband was being attacked through her, she would inform him of his danger. She had persuaded herself when she married Dashton that she hone&tly loved him, and as timo went on, and she found out her husband's good qualities, love really did come. It was the one great hope of her life that' her influence would at last wean him Irom old associations, and that ho would show the world that ho had sown his wild oat?, and was going to become worthy of his rank and wealth. She knew that underneath much that was evil in his nature there was much that was good, that with diffbtent training and with better surroundings ho might have been a better man. One thing, however, waa still a great grief to tlio girl, and that was that at times, when he got among the fast set who still clung about him, he would let himself be persuaded to drink to excess. The first time that her husband came home talking incoherently, the poor girl was so terrified that she couldn't stop in the room wheie he was, but ran and locked herself in her boudoir. Her terror of drunkenness had grown up with her from her childhood. Her father, a scamp of a fellow, who broke her mother's heart and lived by promoting bubble companies and other forms of genteel swindling, had died of delirium Ircmats, and Louie had been, as a child, a frequent witness of the paroxysms, of that awful disease. Since then the sight of a drunken man or woman had always terrified her, One morning, after her husband had come home considerably the worse for his, evening's amusement, Lady Dashton sat at breakfast, alone, in her own little room. His lordship was still sleeping off tho effects of his last night's indulgence. There were several letters for her ladyship, letters of the ordinary kind, which she opened and threw aside after glancing at their contents. But there was one which she opened unconsciously and began to read mechanically, but which, as sho read oi, sent the hot blood to her cheeks with a sudden rush, only to retreat from them again as suddenly and leave her face pale with tho ashen hue of death. She read the letter to the end, and then with a low moan let it slip from her hand to the floor. At that moment Partridge, her ladyship's confidential maid, came into the room. She

was just in lime to .save her mistress, who was falling from her seat in a dead faint. 'Oh, my lady,' exclaimed Partridge, rushing towards and catching the swooning Countess in her arms, ' What is the matter ? Speak, my lady, you are ill.' Partridge loosened her mistress's dress, and taking the vinegar cruet) put some vinegar on her head and lips, 'You are not well, my lady, '* she said. 'Won't you^ lie down a little ? Come, my lady, take my arm! That's ifc. Lie on the sofa a little until you feel stronger.' The Countess obeyed her maid almost as in a d ream. For a moment or two sho found herself wondering what had happened. Then everything came back to her and s>he cast a terrified glance towards the breakfast cable. ' Parti idge —I— I — left a letter. Give mo my letters — from the table, please.' ' Ye&, my lady,' said Parttidge, quickly gathering: the letters together that lay on the table, and handing these to her mistress. Lady Dashton saw in a moment that the letter sho was anxious about was not among them. ' There are some more thore. Parti idge. I — I — let me look myself,' she gasped, tiying to rise from the sofa. But Partridge prevented her. 'No, no, my lady, don't get up. See, there's a letter which has fallen on the giound. Perhaps that is it. I didn t see it befoie.' Partridge stooped and picked up the letter from the hearthrug and handed it to her mistres?. 'Thank (Joel,' mm mured Lady Dashton to herself as she clasped the letter in her trembling hand, 'I was afraid she had found it and read ifc.' Then she added •aloud, ' You cm go now, Partridge Leave mo for a little while. I shall be better directly. I'll ring if I want you.' As soon as the door was closed the tiembling Countc&s laised heiself on the sofa, and with an effoit smoothed out the lettqr she had crushed in her hand and read it again to make sure it wa= a real letter, and not some houiblo nightmare which was haunting her. And this was what she read : ' Tlio Midland Hotel, London., 'Deak Loo,— l arrived in London from the Continent this morning, l daresay jou wonder how J conic to be in the great metiopolis, when you thought 1 was booked tor some tuno (ocoine in a French convict prison. My dear Loo, I've had a bit of luck. A lot oL ihe fellows got up a plot to break out and murder the governor and the winders. [ sol.t them jiibt in the nick of t'inc, and saved the lives ofliall the staff. Feeling that my follow -sultertT3 would make it warm lor me, the Government very kindly gave me a free paidon for my services on condition that I quitted French soil. And Ijumpcd at the oiler. \ou bet, my dear. Of course I came to London lull of hope and love, and wondering what my little Loo would say to her bad boy who has buen away fo long. This afternoon when passing the Criterion T looked into theAmeiican bar and met an old friend, and we began to talk about old times, and asking after Will, in order, ot course, my dear, to get your addicss, I learnt that Will had had a bit of luck and was brother-in-law to an earl. Bravo, Loo! You know I alwaja used to say that a handsome, plucky, cle\ or girl liko you would get on, but hang me it ] ever gave you credit tor living at such high game as a coronet. Well, my dear, I hope you aro happy, though, of course, I feel a bit needled that you should Siavo forgotten me so soon. Let nic hear from you. my dear, as soon as possible, and say where I can see you. I suppose you wouldn't care for me to call at your swell mansion. The Earl might be at home and then it would be a« lew aid. ' With best love, my dear Loo, believe nio, ' Ever j our affectionate husband, 'Jack.' 'P.S.— You can write to me here in the old name.' ' My God! my (iod !' moaned the unhappy woman, as sho tore the letter fiercely to pieces and hurled the fragments into the fito. 'What am Tto do? What can Ido ? I must tell Hugh evei'y thing or ' She stopped a moment. Something which her bi other hiul said to hor when they last patted (lashed across her mmd — a promise oho had made him— a promise &he could not understand, but which was clear as the tun at noonday now. ' Will knew it, 1 she cried, as a new light dawned upon her, 'Will knew it all the time. Ho knew it and Jvilby knew it. They knew this man was ali\e while they uxged me to marry Hugh. Alive ! he might ha\e been free even then — if he \va«, they knew it. This letter is a tissue of lies. The w hele thing has been planned fiom the beginning by a gang and this man. 1 can see it all now. I can see how they hope to make me an accomplice in their schemes. Well, it will be a desperate e trujrgle, but I'll rtyht for it. Let them do their worst. I shall soon know now, God help me, what that woi&t L>. ' An hour later, when Loul Da&hton, having pulled him&elf together with a brandy and soda, came down to bieakfast, heinquiied where her ladyship was. ' She ordered the carriage half an hour ago, my lord, and went out. She left this note to be given to you when \ou came down.' Loicl Dishton took the note and lead it throusrh, and then Hung it on the table. ' Well, I'm hanged,' he exclaimed. 'Of all the cool thing? ! \Yhy, Loo mu-t be goina dotty ' Then he lead the note aloud to him?elf to make sure that he quite understood. 'Dear Hugh,— T have to go out on a matter of private business If I am hot home to-night don't fidget.— Ever j our aflectionale wife, 'Lot it;.' (To be continued )

Inii Comim! Inll/tal- — It ie; said the aluminum age is approaching. The weight of the new metal is only one thud that of ion, with equal ov greater tensile shength. Ib is easily cast and is as fire proof as iron : while plates cf it ai*e not waiped or curled by heat-. As ib never rusts a houso built of it would always piesenb a silvery and glistening appearance. It would bo an excellent material for fships, raihoad cars, etc., etc. Ib is one of (he most ductile of metale, and is easily drawn out into wiro. As an electric conductor ibhas .seven times the working value ot iron, so that ib is excellently adapted for fccletriaph, belephoneandolectiic wires of all kinds. It isthe be.st material possible for bridges owing to its light weight, great strength, freedom from lust and ductility. In the aluminum age, aerial navigation will bo probable, owing to the small weight of an aluminum engine dri\en by compressed air or electricity. Made into rifles or cannon, soldiers would bo lelieved ot two-thirds of the weight of their gun?. Tho process of procuring aluminum has hitherto been so expensive that the metal is worth five dollar? a pound ; bub English and Ameiican papers now tell us of the discovery of a new method of obtaining it from an almost omnipresent clay, so inexpensive that aluminum may soon be put on the market as cheap as iron. Its sources of .supply are inexhaustible. Iron, copper, silver, gold are found only in localities geographically small. Bub one of tho most universally distributed materials of the earth beneath our feet is clay, the metallic baso of which is aluminum. If the Salvation Army preacher's idea about tho road to Heaven is correct, there must be an uttor want of companionship for the blessed spirits who travel upon it. " Fou may travel that road," he declared, " from the starting point to tho goal, and you will nob see a darnnod soul the whole way !"