THE SPECTRE OF THE STRAND.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 231, 14 February 1885, Page 1

THE SPECTRE OF THE STRAND.

A TALE OF THE DAY

BY J. GREVILLE BURNS,

Chapter V. :< Essex-STREKT, Strand V" echoed a policeman, in reply to a young man. evidently a foreigner, who had inquired the Avhereabouts of the above thoroughfare. " First to the right, second to the left, first to the left again !" New Year's Day ! What hopeful associations do these words convey, even to the meanest beggar. ■ Not so with Kvremond DeMouvrier. Time had ceasedto move ; his year had ended ; life would not' re-commence until he had spoken to Marie Massilon and learned from her own lips that she had not voluntarily fled from him ! New Year's Night ! Ah, the merry parties and balls that were taking place in the great metropolis!' How the grand equipages rattled along the Strand, speeding on their way with their, beautiful burthen within ! Yes, this was the house. Gleaming lights and merry voices and music ! How strangely it contrasted with that snow-covered cottage not far from Paris ! " Miss Massilon is engaged ; so is Madame." She certainly was not "at home" to tierce, impetuous-looking young men, whose attire was not the conventional evening dress. Was that Marie, his betrothed, laughing joyously in concert with, a tall, conceited, handsome fellow with a heavy moustache V " Marie !" He did not wait to be announced. He did not walk in with mincing gait, preparing neat phrases which meant nothing. No. As Ins mother, the unfortunate Adele, had evaded the sentry and flung herself in a torrent of passion at the feet' of Colonel De Mouvrier, the terrible disciplinarian; so he, her offspring, rushed towards the woman he loved, who he believed lived for him alone — ran with open arms and waited for her to place her head upon that breast where her memory had so long, so reverently been enshrined. '' What is the meaning of this?" It is the voice of Madame Massilon. She pales visibly as she sees her visitor, and stands as a shield before the beautiful Marie. The latter is white and silent — -motionless as a statue. All, it gave Madame much pairi to beckon the young man coldly into an adjoining chamber, and inform him that Mario had, in compliance with her request, consented to marry Mr Boupell, a rich City sharebroker, and that Marie and Evremond must never meet again. ■ " Only from her own lips shall I receive my doom'!." tiiu young man murmured, as ho pressed his heart with his clenched first. And on that awful night Evremond de Mouvrier stood transfixed while Marie said the few words he compelled, her to say, and which severed him from her and from happiness for ever.' '„ : #'■"* * * * "Forgery hij.n City J\lerc7iavf..[" -shouted the newsboys one evening, nestr Lu'dgate Circus. , The evening sheets were in great demand, . and the news w,as being discussed freely. : . " Kegular pull down for Eoupell." remarked a "swell" with a ' cigar; : as he offered a cigarette to his friend. . , • . " Why, what's the matter ?"' ""■- --"Married a beautiful Frenchwoman only a year ogo. Cut an awful dash .ever, since. He's been up at Bow Street this niorhing, and committed for trial for forgery. - Sorry for the girl — very pretty — knew .her., very well." "Pardon me for obtruding myself upon your conversation," said a young" man — it was Evremond De Mouvrier, but, ah, how changed! — "Was the lady's name Massilon ?" "It was. Why?" Did Evremond utter a sigh, or .relax the

frigidity of his icy heart as lie thought .^of , Marie's deep trouble ? ... ; No ! Nor could he. force himself, to reflect that Marie had erred as many a /week "Woman had • erred — had been forgiven, and,' had ' repented. No ! Tho ugh starving for bread ■ he considered' himself a Groesus in the posession of his revenge. He' was rich— rich !« The false one had been humiliated and ' shiimed before the world ! Now ho began tp^liyi?. "-■'«> He could work now with a will, before, his punctured and aching heart, Ke could-^ot work. ■In a week he engaged "as a 1 foreign^ correspondent 'for- a mercantile firm. "Inr three months he was independent of the world, for he had saved money; and : Jaia employers were his best friends. "- • * * ■' '" '■'* ~~.-b * * "Show the lady in," said Evremond De Mouyrier, whilst seated in his study one evening. ....... It was New/Year's" Eve^-two.. years after th-.it memorable 1 evening when fie" listened \o what seemed 'his death sentence from the lips of his unfaithful sweetheart. It was. Marie,,; in ; , deep, mourning. v Her husband had died in,' prison— a convicted felon. Her child had. .breathed ijts-Jast ; in. a common lodging-house in GrayVlnn lloacl.' What a pathetic sight ! No words would have been necessary to lead to the reconciliation of the unhappy couple had che wrong inflicted not been so cruel. and so bitter — had Evremond not suffered so much — so very much. i; No!" he replied. He could not forgive; .She had spoken the words that had marred his life, and, for. a time, unseated, his reason. She had committed what neither murderer nor bandit Could perform with knife 'or ptiletto. The past could not be recalled. . . And so she- glided slowly from that room out into the melancholy twilight, the inexorable "No " which , Evremond 'pronounced re echoedlike thunder in her ears— a sentence which' only death itself coiild alter. : * « * * Unyielding- ..man ! ' ; 'Could -lais eyes -Have seen the ghastly forms of ; Want, Tenury li egret, .Despair —■ ay, Suicide — which his' words would call forth— pitiless "torturers 1 ! to dog fcim 1 and her' night and day in future years of undreamt-of, woe— how-, would he have shrunk. from, pronouncing, the words which so irrevocably 'parted them 1 ! '■ ' •"'• "Is there no hope, dear Evremond ?" she had ; asked, .her .voice, recalling the' scenes, of their childhood — " no hope that we may yet be the same to each other as then ?'' Yes; in the horrible calni of -"that" hateful room, whose walls had only lately " echoed with her soft voice and ' f ootsteps,. lie" now took a frightful pleasure in recalling, her each particular look, and wor.l. and gesture during that never-torbe-forgo.tten .interview-. .- , Would he nev.er , be . able to banish' ' that sorrowful face from his eyes ! ■ " ' Away ;!f!-a way !" 1 he ■ groaned, -as he- be? t his breast, .while, Jns;^y > e^lds'hed_!\yit;h''^;'unnatural glare. " I must not thiiik of 'it? ' . Now a knock comes— a timid and unobtrusive tap outside. .•!-•-:::;;:)-. ' '§' 'Tis ! she- ; !;--- ■ -. \^ >, ; u .;,;; : ._.i , , ; „ . ■'; 'Marie ,!?^ he shrielcs, as. he,- rusii.es to her arms. ■..,.• , ■•••-■ >■•■■■ liis 'fac^ls lit'urVwigfa deliglif'trulf horrible to. see.'- ■ ::[.'■ '; •".".';'-'"' "" \\{l '''•'''} /'"]''''. Alas! that timid ; tap at his door- was inot'by ,the gentle,, wasted, yet Jovely. of ' his darling. Marie ; but . only',, 'a.' favoiirite little child, who screams, terror as she. sees his face in, the half-light of; that, . do.qrway, while he stands calling down curses on: his soul, his' life— praying that the light of his eyes may be quenched" for .ever, for his cruelty to th^t penitent creature who; had pleaded forhis:loye, ; yet pleaded in vain !" Out into the stx^eets, bareheaded and coatless; out through darkness and pelting rain ; out into the 'terrible vacuum ; called the. world — that frightful- -void— that emptiness known as earths-frightful, horrible, because to him it possessed not Marie! ; , .

By the river ! Down by the stairs .and the wharves ; through the slush and the gravel ; out into the dark, deep, rushing stream. Reckless madman ! lie will be drowned ! She is not there ! The streets— the bridges — the Embankment — the seats — the arches — the filthy •crevices into which the houseless poor creep by night for shelter. She is not there ! How inimitably vast the great city seems to have grown ! — all to allure the weeping Marie from the grasp of his burning hands. Out, like a sigh, escaped the life from his body that awful night— leaving him soulless, •cheerless hopeless, aimless, a prematurely oldj old man! The sorrows of the hapless Marie will never be known— their gad termination alone can be recorded. . In the waters of the Thames, the pellucid water that ripples ever joyously. past verdant meadows and graceful ferns, miles away from the city, and near the river's source, there the tired limbs found rest,' the wounded heart •was healed, the choking sob was quenched, she slept at last ! Her body it was which the Thames Police picked up near Blackfriars Bridge the night of the awful storm.