The Story Teller. THAT DEDEITFUL WOMAN.

Wairoa Bell, Volume V, Issue 27, 14 December 1894, Page 3

The Story Teller. THAT DEDEITFUL WOMAN.

She was a beautiful, attractive woman, black-eyed and crimson-cheeked, with a splendid figure, and arms which she did not mind showing, I was a little pale creature, neither ugly nor pretty, but 1 did not envy hex 1 . Let all the men on earth admire her—one loved me. Jff I were fair In his eyes I cared nothing for her. The other girls were jealous at times. t and Barbara forthwith declared that there was no such thing as getting any attention from anyone where she was,, and certainly she tried her best to fascinate. Mrs Bray was her name, and I understood that, young as she was, she was a divorced woman. It may have been that she was very much ill-used by her husband, and had been the injured party altogether—l presume it is often so—but most women will bear a great deal rather than sever the holy tie that binds then* to a husband’s side, and there Is j?.l i ays a doubt about a divorce. Some of the “ladies at Mr Horton’s shrugged their shoulders, and wondered what the old lady had been thinking of to take Mrs Bray in. The gentlemen, however, fought in her defence. Beautiful, musical, fond of flirtation, and apt at flattery, she won her way into their liking. For my part, I did not respect her one whit. I did not see anything to love in her, but I admired hen Unlike most women, I always found myself able to see the charm that men see in a personally attractive woman. But'were I a man, I could not do as men no—flatter these flirts at the expense - f-true-hearted women, who love them with all fcbeir souls, When good Mrs Carman went to her room with tears in her eyes, leaving Mr Caiman whispering soft nothings in Mrs Bray’s ear, and when little Efie Fay crimsoned and trembled with anger because her lover forgot her while he turned the beauty’s music and looked down into her eyes, I often thought to myseif that those were poor triumphs after all, and those men who gave them to her were but silly creatures. She liked none of them. She mocked them, and had little [nicknames for each. She was cold in heart fes she was warm in manner. Her impassioned glances were those of an actress and nothing more. She gave these glances to my Harry as well an to others, but I had no fear of their effect. Of course, he knew she was handsome and that she sang well; so did I. We had met at Mrs Horton’s. 1 was an orphan, and taught music for my liveli hood : he was a young clerk in a wholesale house. At our first meeting we had liked each other, and he was the only lover I had ever had. When I gave him my betrothal kiss it was with lips that had never met those,of any man before, and I was glad to think of it. We had been engaged three months, and were to be married in the spring. We were wrapped up in each other, and f believed concerned ourselves very little about Mrs Bray. I did not. It pleased me better to think of better w 0—.... —.... There were others whose minds were continually runnning on her, however. Jealous Effie Fay could never quite forget her. Over and oyer and over again she sat in her room, with tears pouring down her cheeks and talked of her. : She’s a wretch,’ she declared ; s a bold, forward, cruel creature! She knows Charlie is engaged to me. She knows It. I see it, i 0 hef eyes, and she works so hard' to get him to herself. Charlie dosen’t know what he is doing for, himself. I will break with him yet, and I do love him so. No one will ever love him so much. Thru she would cry again and begin the old story of Mrs Bray’s conduct, of her looks, her contrivances, her becks and wreathed smiles. I felt sorry for the child she was but 16 —and sorry, too for <oi u ; ho was acting as most foolish hoys do under those ciicumstances. But out, morning she began another strain! 8 Mrs Bray is at work with your Harry now/ she said, s and shell twist him round her finger soon, as she does my Charlie. It’s witchcraft those women have—an unholy power of some kind. Ton’ll see, Ethel ; you’ll suffer as I do soon. 1 ■ .-‘As the day went on I noticed one or two things that were suspicious. I saw that Nghe contrived to meet my lover in the hall o the stairs, to sit near him at dinner-

| time, to go out on the balcony when he did. | Charlie Beech was allowed to slip back into his old place in Effie’s heart, and my Harry was Mrs Bray’s object. Effie had been sharper than I, but B arry was too strong in love for me to yield, I felt sure. It was about the time that Hardy’s busi ness competed him to choose a boardinghouse nearer the middle of the city. He left Mrs Horton’s, and only called to see me in the evenings, and we began to write to each other. I have the little notes he wrote me carefully hidden away, even now. They are very precious to me. As I read them over they bring those hours back again, and I am a girl once more. I never loved Harry more tenderly than when I sat down to my desk one morning to tell him of a little festivity which I ha beet) invited to attend and to ask his escort, 1 never shall forget that day, Atter I had posted that letter I sat in my room and worked upon the pretty dress I intended to wear, thinking all the while that it was Harry’s favourite colour, and that he would be sure to like it. Effiie, happy with her recovered lover, sat by me, and read aloud from a little book of poems Charlie gave her. They were not fine verses, nor was she an elegant reader, but there was love in them, and in her heart, and that was sufficient. I had finished the dress, and sat looking down into the street when I saw a boy hurrying along. It was the eriand-boy at Harry’s place; and Effie, who had also seen him, ran downstairs to get my note for me, for we both knew that it was my answer that shimmered in the white envelope in his hand. She returned with a very serious face. A note Was in her hand with my name on it in Harry’s writing, but her expression frightened me so that I caught my breath. * What is it, Effie ?’ ‘ Ethel,’ she gasped, ‘ I must tell you, though you’ll hate me. The boy who brought that note brought one for Mrs Bray. ’ 1 * Why should that trouble me, dear ?’ * Don’t you see your Harry must have written to both ?’ ‘ No/ said I, 1 I do not. I am not jealous of Harry.’ \ Then I broke the seal, and these were the words I read : ‘ Madam. — I have another engagement ; am obliged to decline yours. ‘ H. Heathcote.” I put the billet down with a strange chill at my heart. What had I done to deserve thisf? I knew not what to think. A note like this from a betrothed lover from whom I had parted with the tenderest caresses 1 Effie saw my grief, and left the room ; she come back in an hour, her face wet with tears. * You cannot tell me what it is ?’ she said. * I must have offended him unconsciously. I can’t say more/ When I went down to dinner Mrs Bray was reading a note aloud. ‘ I declare I never was so surprised ! I thought he was in love with that little girl. Ah, there she comes ! ’ She hurried away as she spoke, in assumed terror, The next moment 1 saw Effie speak to her, and a white paper pass into her hand. She knew what it was and would tell me, She did. That night she brought into my room a letter from Harry that Mrs Bray had exhibited to all the house—a love letter, tenderer and more passionate than any he had ever written to me, and with his name at the foot. I even knew the paper—but there was his monogram, too. It began * Darling/ and ended ‘ Your own Harry.’ I did not scream, 1 did not swoon ; 1 faced the terrible truth as best I might. She had won him from me, but I was in no wise to blame. I was true, I was sinned against, not sinning, and the blow should not crush me, I did not even allow myself to play the mourner. Contempt of my lover had taken the place of love. He should know I did not grieve for him: so 1 asked good old Mr Halloran to be my escort to the party that evening with a smile on my face, though my heart ached sorely, and life seemed cold and cruel. They told me I was very gay that night, I ate and drank and chatted, and danced whenever I was asked to do so. All the while the words of the letter Harry had written to Mrs Bray were in my heart. When Mr Halloran took me home he

aßjfrme I had wearied myself out, and was to feel it ; but I was strong yet. ■As I went upstairs Mrs Horton looked cue of her room and said ; 4 Year sweetheart was here to-night. I expect be was cut up to find you out, but Mr ? Bray took care of him/ I tried to laugh I felt that all ray life now I must laugh ’,when I would rather cry, !"■ _st bide my heart. No one should A r call.me a disappointed woman. bio one should speak of me as one who had been id eS, T wra oqd myself in my dressing gown, and sat i ’ore the fire. I could not sleep —-I could \te>t even lie down. The clock struck twe ue, two, and still I watched the dying yews Ten minutes had gone by, when sat a frightful - r : ek rang through the use—another and another. I rushed to th ioor. Others came’ rushing into the en . The shrieks came from Mrs Bray’s roo , and before we could open the door it was flung wide open, and she rushed towards Uo, her long wAto nightrobe all ablaze—-a horrible moving column of fire. s I don’t know what I thought—l don’t know what I did, I remember nothing more until I had her down upon the floor with a blanket—which I had snatched from a pile which lay on a table in the entrywrapped about her, I then heard myself crying : ‘ Lie still and you will save you face ! ’ I saw the flames choke out, and the light black tinder floating about me, and I knew that she was at least saved from being burned to death. Soon they told me that I had saved her life. It was night agaiu when someone came to my door, and told me that Mrs Bray wished to see me. She was lying in bed, wrapped with bandages, and she could not stir, but she looked at me earnestly. Send them out of the room ; I want to speak to you alone/ she said. And when the nurse had dosed the door she looked at me again in the samestrange intent way. ‘ You saved my life/ she said. ‘ Yes, and I remember vyhat you said, ‘ Lie still, and you will save your face.’ Most women would have wished my face spoiled bad I used them as I have used you. And you don’t the world either. Go to that desk. There’s a letter there. It’s yours. I wanted to make you jealous, and I wrote to your sweetheart to ask his escort somewhere. Two notes came to the house at the same time. I knew very well that a mistake had been made—that mine had been put into your envelope, and yours into mine. I scratched your name out of that one you have there, and showed it about to make you jealaus. He’s as true as steel to you. I love you for saving my face, and I tell you that. Now try to forgive me.’ I was too happy to do anything else. I knew that what she said was true. And when she asked me I stooped down an i gave her a kiss. i It was our last interview. When Mrs Bray recovered she left the house, and Harry Heathcote knew nothing about those two miserable days until I had been his wife too long to have any secrets from him,