CHAPTER XLVII.

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 367, 11 May 1889, Page 6

CHAPTER XL VII.

A TKUIiUJLE DWOVETIY. Ai'THH then arrival in Paris things improved somewhat. They went sight-seeing to the Louvre, Notre Dame, etc., and at ni^ht patronised the various thealros. i■> On one memorable occasion Mr Denver took Dulcie for a drive in the Boh, and a-, they were jogging slowly along in their hired landau, will) its pair of lean, spiritless horses, a magnificent equipage passed clo&e by them. The footman and coachman wore powdered wigs and gorgeous liveries of a showy description, and leaning back against the cushions pat a beautiful, darkfaced woman, oxqui itely dressed in tlie height of fashion. As she passed, Dulcie uttered an exclamation of admiration which attracted her husband's attention. « At the sight of the lady ho suddenly flushed crimson, then, after a momentary hesitation, took oQ his hat and bowed. She returned the salutation graciously, and immediately calling out to the coachman to pull up, beckoned with the gesture of a reigning sovereign to Mr Denver to ccme and say'how do you do. Dulcio jumped at the conclusion that this lovely stranger

must, bo a Marclu'sa at the very least, and pccvetly wondovcd at a certain reluctance ■ visible in her husband's domeanour. ' Bother it ! I suppose I shall have to #o,' lie muttered, undecidedly. ' Douce take it all, La Perlina is about the last vvomi>n one would wish to meet on one's wedding; tour. However, there's a fatality about these things.' Then, aloud to his wife, ' You won't mind waiting a minute or two, will you, Dulcie ?' lOh dear no ! By all means go and talk to the lady. I'm quite content sitting still, wa tolling the carriages djive past.' And so ho went. 'Butinstoad of a minute or two it was nearly half an hour bofore he returned to her side, whilst during that ti:n'c, from where she sat in the landau, she could distinctly hear the sound of • ireqnent laughter, < and . c cc how persuasively the dark, beautiful head was bent clown, until it almost touched her husband's. Not unnaturally, Duloie's interest was aroused. 'Who was that?' she asked. 'One of your old fiiends ? If so, she is a very lovely one.' ITo caught readily at the idea. I 'Yes.' he answered, shortly. 'A very old friend.' Thero was a slight pause, then ho added, ' You must nor. be surprised at their turning up pretty frequently, Dulcie. I've trot a crood many friends, and it's a way they have' She was perfectly satisfied with thi 1 * nxplanation. It seemed natural to her that he.* husband should renew his former acquaintances. From that day forth, however, instead of going on to Italy, and seeing the oft-quoted ' Duca ' and the /, Mavchesa,' Mr Denver was content to remain in Paris. The days and weeks passed one by one. and yet there was no question of their departure, and at last she fairly manelled when it would take place. Her husband now continually left her to her own resources, but that she did not mind, greatly preferring his absence to his presence. She would »it for hours in the great court-yard of tho hotel, watching the constant ptre-im of people coming and eroing up and down its brood steps, and amusing herself by wearing little romances about them. Peihaps it was fortunate that her aflcctions weie not very deeply involved, eKe in these days sho must havo noticed ISJr Denver's frequent absences, but, as it wa«, she viewed them with positive relief. Onco. indeed, she said v»ith perfect innocent intention, ' Dennis, where hays .you been this longtime 9 ' but he only scowled, and answered crossly . 1 Dulcie. I object to a woman who considers it necessary to spy after her husband's movement?. Don't attempt to inter lere with mine, or el^e — I tell you candidly — a iow will result.' Then a certain feeling of compunction sei/ed him, and he added, moie a«niably ' Don't you understand, Dulcie, that with the best will in the woild it is impossible to take you to all the Parisian entertainments which the masculine b&x attend ?' At last she dimly understood his meaning, and a tierce blush burnt her pale cheek. And henceforth she took good care never to question her husband as to his goings and coir ings. One day, neatly a month after their aiiival in I'-uis, Mi Denver said to her in his oil-hand way, 'By the-by, Dulcie, I hopo you won't mind dining by yourself tonight, but I have been invited toabacholor dinner party, and could not well refuse.' She requiied no apologies. If he chose of his own fiee will to leave her every night of his life, he might do s-o, but complaitn should never pass her lips. She was too proud for that ; although it was impossible to help feeling that Bob would not have acted thus. She spent a quiet e\ening in thair private sitting-room. A bright wood fire was ciaekhng on the health, and Dulcio sat musing before it so lon«\ that when she looked up sho was quite surprised at the lateness of the hour. A sudden impulse seized her to await her husband's leturn. But twelve o'clock, one o'clock struck, without any s : gn of his ai rival, and not until a quarter to two did a cab come rattling into the court-yard. A little while aftoi wards Mr Denver entered the room, dressed in eve.iiug clothes, slightly disordeted, while a battered opera hat was jauntily stuck sideways on his head. A single glance showed her that he had been drinking heavily, for his face was flushed, and h if- eyes, though shin ing blight ly, had loot much ot their vital powci. At tho une.\peetod of hit> wife he started back, and exclaimed, in a loud, iuifcable voico : ' Why, what the dickens are you doing here, at this time of tho night or rather m oi ning V She thought that sho might, with equal light, have a^ked him that question, but, peeing the condition he wa.s in, refrained fiom ni gu moor. ' I was late,' ?he air-.weied, gently ; ' so I thought I would Mt up and wait for you.' ' Pooh, wait for me indeed !' with a fioice oath. 'Have I not told you once already that I will brook no spying on my mo\cmcuts ? I choose to go o>itand come in as I liKo, without finding a d — d reproachful face rcpiimauding mo at home. Other people'.^ faces,' laughing coarsely, 'are jolly and chceiful enough ; why i-.n t yours the same, instead of le&embling that of a corpse?' ' You must forgive my poor face, Dennis. It has many faults, but my strength has ne\cr really icturned since I was so ill in tho autumn.' 'Stud' and nonsense,' he bioke in savagely; 'do you suppose I'm a baby to be hoodwinked by such excuses ? No, not I. I have cye.s in my head, and can sec that; it is that yountr jackanapes Bob Mornington — blast him ! — whom you aie still i ining after ' It was the first time Bob's name had been mentioned between them, and the hot indignant blood dyed her checks crimson. There was just enough truth in tho accusation to render its sting keen ; anger stole into her heart. But with an effort she checked it. 1 Dennis,' she said, and her lip quivered piteousiv, for she was deeply moved, 'after all that has happoned you are the last person in the world to reproach me with my affection for Bob Mornington. You hieiu that I was fond of him, and he of me. We made no secret of our love. Yet, knowing this, and the circumstances which induced mo to consent to our marriago, you chose to accept me as your wife. Having done so, it is ungenerous in the last degree to refer to the past. Let by-gones be bygones, and for both our sakes, for yours as well as mine, pray refrain from mentioning the subject again.' There was a quiet dignity about her which in pie^sed him in spite ot himself Ho te!b that she was in the right, but that vrry knowledge only increased his anger. 'Tut ! Don't try and mount tho high horse over inc. You may like Bob Mornington better than you' did me, but you like my money best of all." Tho glorious eyes dilated with amazement and incredulity. 'Do you — dD you— really mean — what you say ?' 4 Mean it ? Of course I mean it. And what's more you know, it is the truth.' Impetuous words of denial rushed to hor lips, but with a stern effort sho silenced

them; for sho fclfc how idle they wire to undo the past. \ 4 Dennis,' she said, after a momentary hesitation, *do not let us wrangle. When two people are married and have to live with each other, they cannot afford, to quarrel. But you know as well as I do that the reason I gave Bob up and became your wife was because 1 wished to save my mother from ponury — perhaps starvation.' It was his turn to stare now. Excited as he was, and manifestly not himself, her words produced, a sobering eHecb. ' Have you gone stark staring mad ?' he asked in tones of bowildci ment. Thoy were at cross-purpo&es, but she was nob aware of this, and ftlt influenced in his favour by what she believed to bo so modest a disclaimei . 'Don't you like admitting your generosi'y e\en to me, ? she asked, with a dawning respect. ' Pish, Dulcie,' he said, relapsing into a muddled stale of comprehension. ' You're talking rubbish. Come, let's go to bed. for I've no notion of standing javving away here all night.' But &ho had heard too much or coo little, and was not to be put oil" so. A horrible suspicion had taken possession of her mind, making it imperative that she should sift this matter to its very foundations. ' Stop, Dennis,' she cried as ho took up a candlestick, and, holding it in an unsteady grasp, prepared to leavo the room, 'Theie is some misunderstanding which, now that we aro on the subject, had better be cleared up once for all.' 'Oli, don't bobber so infernally! Come to bed. It.'s past two o'clock.' ' Not till you have answered mo one question.' And sho sprang to the door and stood with her back against it, like a young tiere=s seeking to defend her young. ' T3id you, or did. you not,' looking her husband straight in the face, ' promise to allow my mother so much a year, and in fact keep up all the establishment at JVlilnacot Lodge, if I consented to break off my engagement with Bob, and become your wife ? Yes, of no?' 1 Not I,' he answered, with a derisive laugh. ' I'm not such a fool.' She passed her hand across her brow, with a ge^ttue of mystification. 1 But the bank, Dennis — the bank ! Surely that story could not have been all untrue . ' The bank ? What bank ? I never heard of it. 1 ' The Universal Safety, in which mamma said our entile fortune was invested, and which stopped payment on tho very day of your ball,' looking eagerly at him. A smile of sudden intelligence illuminated his features. ' Phew !' he exclaimed, beginning to whistle softly to himself. • Your mother is a cle\crer woman than I imagined. She has not only decehed you, but also me. At this very moment the Universal Safety is a sound, genuine concern, and, to my certain knowledge, Mrs Shepperton not only has not, bub ncvei has had, one single sixpence invested in ib. ! ' But, oh, Dennis, the letter ! She showed me a letter from her solicitors.' ' Or purporting to come from them,' he answered. gra\ely. ' Letters have been forged befoie now, and your mother is by no means scrupulous in gaining her ends.' Then, as the full purport of his wordsburst upon her coirpiehension like a flood of li«ht, she threw herself face downwards on the sofa, with a touching carelessness of outward appearances, and moaned in heartbroken accents : '- Oh, Dob, poor dear Bob ! We have been foully, wickedly, cruelly cheated out of all our lovo and happiness. May God help us in the long, long dreary fubure ! ' The dying embers sputtered, a cricket chirped on the hearth, tlie candles flickered low in their sockets, and she la.y there, stupefied, like one who lies motionless under the influence of some powerful drug.