THE STORY OF STRANGE LIVES

Waikato Times, Volume XXVIII, Issue 2325, 4 June 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE STORY OF STRANGE LIVES

Atjthor'of 'i'SfUP Ahoy," " Dutch the Divkk," " The Founihiy Belle," &c. The Story: IB6o.—Strange Lives. [All Rioiits Reserved.] : CHAPTER LII. HOW THE CRICKETS WERE DISTURBED.

BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN,

Gloomy and solemn as was Lord Robert Denver's bouse in Wiinpole-street, it must not be supposed that • his dependants shared that gloom. These mattersare all comparative, aud we, dwellers in sunshine, are often disposed to pity the poor creatures who dwell in the dark. Perhaps all the time he t tsho or it is happy enough, likes the darKnes?, "enjoys tfie tunnels, or burrows in the damp or gloom. It is only when we, -meddling, improving people come to it and say, "Oh, this won't do ; you are miserable here in your want of light and warmtb.: You may be rat-liko or mouselike in your habits, but it won't do ; you must *come forth into the light,' that auy change is thought of. Then, in obedience to the voice of socalled progress, the dweller in darkn6ss comes and tries to disport itself in the light for-whioh it is not fitted, is very miserable, and pongs once more for its

gloom. -•"; ~■.->.• .■■."; I dare say'some one will tell me' I am wronc; but I believe that the worm is. as happy in its way,' grovelling and; boring underground, hating ( heat and dust and light, and coming out at night to seize soft -succulent leaves which he drags down into bia hole, to lie upon the damp loose soil and Court other worms—. as the noblest object of the animal creation. To come up at once from reptilian worms to those other worms, mankind,'l feel sure that-Hodge, with his broad aud potatoes, cabbage and bacon, is as. happy, and gets as much enjoyment out of life as the busy mer-chant-who turns over millions; for after all, turning:, over earth is a much more healthy pursuit than turning over millions. One thing is certain, Hodge manages to live a great deal longer, and in better health, than Dives; and if he t"would only moderate his thirst for beer, he, : wpuld- live longer and be healthier ' still.

Thus in their way Valentine Vidler and Salome his. .wife chirped about the gloomy-' house like a pair of exceedingly happy cricket?. Vidlerused to kiss Mrs "V, and say she was a "dear little ■woman," and Mrs V. used always, when thny were .downstairs amon» the shining coppers and tins, to call Vidler "love." They were comical to look at, but their blood circulated just as did that of other specimens of hutnantiy; their nerves grew tense or slack in the same way; and in their fashion they thoroughly enjoyed life. ;

Certainly no children were born unto them, a fact due perhaps to the absenco of light ; "bwt "somehow the little couple ■were ■ very happy 'without, and so their life glided-on as they placidly-thought of other people'a troubles, talked of how his lordship took this or that, wondered when Lord Anthony would come aud see him again; if Lady Denver would ever get over the enabhing she hadhftd for

•'wonting to interfere during it visit, and let in light: when she declared sho could not exist without light, and Lord Robert had told her she could get plonty ont of door's.

Dull as the house seemed, it was never dull to Salome, with her dusting, cleaning, cooking, ''cutting-up little squares and diamonds of cotton print for Lord Robert's needle, and afterwards lining and quilting the counterpanes, whioh were in great request for charitable affairs arid fancy bazaars.

Tho kitchen of Lord Robert's wns very cosy in its way ; a good fire always burning in the glistening , grate, a cricket or two chirped in warm corners ; there was a verv white hearthstone, a very bright .-steel fender, and a very thick warm hearthrug, composed of cloth shreds, in front Of the little round table drawn up pretty close ; for absence of light is apparently absence of heat. Tho tea thing wero out, it being , eight o'clock, Lord Robert's dinner over, Rene6 seated by the panel reading , to him in a low Voice, and the Vidlers' duties done for the day. Hence then* they had their tea punctually at eight o'clock 1 , making' -it their supper as well. Vidler was busy, with a white napkin spread over his- knees, making tonst, whioh Mrs V. buttered liberally, and then placed round after round upon the plate, which just fitted the steel disc iri the fender.

The kettle was sending out its column of steam, the hot toast looked buttery and brown, and a very fragrant scent arose from the teapot, the infusion being very strong and good, consequent upon his lordship having one cup directly after his dinner, and the pot being kept afterwards to draw.

Tea over and the tea things washed up, Snlome doing the washing, finishing off with that special rinse round of the tray with hot water and the pouring out of the rinsings at one corner, just ns a photographer coats his plate with collodian ; the table was cleared, aprons folded and put away by Vicller in the dresser drawer, while his wife brushed up the hearth, and then came the event of the day—that is to say, the work being done, came play.

It was the Vkllers' sole amusement, and it was- entered into with a kind of solemn unction in accordance with the gloom of the place. Some'learned people would have been of opinion that a light gymnastic kind of sport would have been that most suited for such a life aa the Vidlers led, and would have liked to see hooks in the ceiling that Vidler aad his little wife swinging by ropes, and turning head over heels on bars for the bringing into play of unused muscles. They might have introduced, too, that pleasing occupation of turning oneself into a human quintain, with a couple of clubs swung round and l'ound over the head to the great endargernient of the rows of plates and tureens upon the dresser, but they would have been wrong ; the stairs gave both nn abundance of gymnastic exercise, and their.ordinary work brought their other muscles into play. Hence, then, they disported themselves over a pleasant pastime, which combined skill, the elements of chance, and mental and arithmetical calculation—tho Vidlers' pastime was eribbagp. The cards taken from the box whioh ; opened out into a board wore tolerably clean though 'faded, it being Salome's custom to clean them once a week with bread crumbs, and upon the coupie taking , their places, with tho vast amount of solemnity, spectacles were mounted and the game began. Old-fashioned six-oaftfl cribbage was their favouvite )t ,because, as .Vidler siid, you had plenty of pegging, and he didn't c.ire twopence for a game where there wasn't plenty of pegging; so the cards were cut! Salome won the deal; they were cut again and she began.

It was a sight to see Salome deal the cards. Had they been hundred pound notes she could not have been more particular ; wetting her thumb, and taking the greatest care she could to deliver only one at a time, while Vidler looked calmly on, then took up his cards, smiled at them, selected two cards for the crib, frowned over them, counted how many he should hold; tried another way, seemed satisfied, and then as be threw out, having thoroughly instructed his partner— now his opponent—in all the technicalities and time-honoured sayings of the gtirae, informed S.ulome that he had thrown out a "regular bilk." . ' Have you ?' said Salome, nodding and throwing out her own couple. ' Cut u r-' Vidler "cut up," and Salome took the card upon the top, exclaimed, 'Two for his heels,' scored them, and Vidler frowned, for his "bilk" accorded wonderfully well with the turned-up card. ' His lordship didu't seem to relish that cutlet,' said Vidler,'playing first—'six.' ' No,' said Salomo, 'he has been too much bothered lately—fifteen,' and she scored a second "two." ' More trouble coming,' said Vidler, ' twenty-two.' 'And nine's a screw,' said Salome, seriously, taking another couple for thirty-one. Then the played cards were solemnly turned down, and tho game went on. * Eight,' said Vidler, ' How ill Miss ReruSe look*.' ' Fourteen,' said Salome, playing a six. ' Yes, poor girl ; she's brought her pigs to a bad market. , 'Got you this time/ said Vidler, smiling, as he played an ace—fifteen—aud scored his two. ; Twenty-one," said Salome, and so the game went on, the little woman playing with all tho, serious precision of an old stager, calling thirty-one "elev3n," informing Vidler wheu. she was well ahead that it was. ' all IJeadenhall-street to a China orange, , and proving herself such an adept at cribbage; that the little man was thoroughly beaten. 'Better luck next time,' said Vidler, giving the cards a good shuffle ; and then the pair stopped to listen, for faint, and low, like a melody from another land, came the sad sweet voice of Ren6e, singing that wonderful old Irish air, -"Gramraachree," putting a stop to the game, for the couple sat and listened, Vidler nodding his head gently, and waving a card to the melancholy eadence till it ended, the game once more began. Fop.' ' Bless us and save us !' cried Salome, dropping her cribbage peg as she waa in the act of scoring three for a run ; ' is it a puss or a coffin ?' Vidler rose, and taking the tongs, carefully picked up the cinder which had flown from the fire, and was now making an unpleasant savour of burning woollen to ari.se from the hearthrug. He laid it solemnly upon the table, to cool, and then it was shaken by Salome, but gave forth no answering tinkle. 'It isn't a puss,' she said, holding it to the light. 'It's a coffin, love.' She handed the little hollow bubble of cindery coal tar to her husband, and he laid it down, took off and wiped his perfectly clean spectacles, and replaced them before carefully examining the portent by the light.

'It's a coffin for somebody,' ho said, solemnly, and then, as he carefully cremated the cin'der in the most glowing portion of the fire, the couple sighed, resumed their places, and sat listening as the voice of Kenee singing t© Lord Robert once more came down to where they sat. It was "Ye banks and braes" this time," and when the pathetio old air was ended Sttlomo sighed, -

'Ah, poor dear, yes-^My false ler-hitv has plti-noked the ro-az, and ler-heft the thor—horn be—hi—hind with me, I 'said and sang , Salome; in a little piping plaintive voice. ' I hope it isn't for her.' ' It mny mean only trouble,' said Tidier, with his head on one side. :'I haveknown coffins pop out of the fire and ho one die.' :,i 'Oh, doar, no,'said Salome. 'There's not a.minute passes btit some one dirs. , ' No—no,' said Vidler, slowly, as if the' great problem propounded required much consideration, ' but so long- as it isn't aiiyone here, why, it don't matter.' ' " ' Quite so much,' said Salome, correctively. 'Let me see ;it was three for , a' run. I shall beat you this time. You want fourteen.' ' ■■■■■.■• 'Yes,' said Vidler, chuckling, 'but it's my first show. You want sixteen.' ' Yes,' said Salome, pegging one for a "go," but I've got hand and'erib. Now thenV ■ • 'Sixteen," said Vidler, triumphantly, as he threw down his cards, and stuck a peg'in the winning hole. ' •Think of that now,' sa|4Salome, and she gathered up the cards for what she called a good shuffle, which was performed by dividing the pack in two equal portions, and holding them as if about to build.a card house, allowing them to. fall alternately one over the other. Then they were knocked together hard, and square, and handed ,to Vidler, who ua\*e them what he termed " a Canterbury poke,' which consisted in rapidly thrusting his forefinger into the centre of the pack,and driving out a large portion of the cards, which were afterwards placed upon the top. Then the pack was cut once more, and game after game. followed, till suddenly there was a loud; ring at the bell. ' What was that ?' cried Salome. 'The coffin,'said Vidler, solemnly. ' Bless us and save us. ' Man, don't look like that,' cried Salome; 'it turns me cold all down my back ;' and then, with a shiver, and very wide-open eyes, she followed her little lord up to the front door, where the Huish's maid was I waiting with a note and a cab to take Ren6e back. This caused a little flutter upstairs, and a greater one down, where Jane, with a few additions of her own, related the arrest of her master. \- " It was trouble then, and riot death, , said Vidler, sagely, to his wife, who then had to answer tho bell, and assist Retire, who, after a short conference with Lord Robert, dressed and hurried off to join her sister. ' Good-bye, my dear,' said Lord Robert, sighing. 'I shall not go to bed. You may return. , Rene'e was seen into the cab, and the Vidlers, upon receiving an iniimatiou from his lordship, made up the kitchen fire and sat before it, as if cooking, to see if Mrs Morrison returned, which she did in about an hour,' on finding from the cook that Huish had returned and taken her sister away, the same personage informing her that Lord Anthony and Mr Hetley had not been back. Renee hesitated for a time as to whether she should stay or go to Portland-place to make enquiries; but this last she was averse to doing ; and, with a full conviction upon her that Huish and: Clare would, be sure to call at Wimpole-street, even if she had not already missed them, she hurried back. . ' They may come yet,' said Lord Robert, quietly. •VVe will wait and see.' ; Fresh candles 'were brought, and tea was made, of which no one partook, and then the occupants of the gloomy house waited hour after hour in full faith of some news coming during the night, with the consequence that everyone was on the alert when the bell rang about four o'clock. ' Oh, that's right,' said Sir Grantley, as Vidler opened the door. ' Mrs Huish,' he »ddcd, ' to see her sister. , ' Yes, sir ; been expecting her,' was the reply ; but Sir Grantley was already , halfway back to the cab. ' Poor girl, , he ejaculated, as he saw that Clare had sunk back into the corner insensible, and stepping half in he took her in his arms to lift her out, but he let her sink back with a sigh. 'No,' he said, softly, ' the day has gone by ; I am not young and strong. Cabman,' hesaid, '"will you lift this lady carefully into the house ; she has fainted. . The man obeyed with alacrity, and Clare was borne perfectly insensible into the gloomy hall, where Ren<se had -hurried down to receive her. 1 Can I be of any use?' he said, raising his hat to Rente, who gazed 'at him wonderingly. ' Your sister asked me to see her home, Mrs Morrison—that is all. A doctor ?' ' Thank you, no, Sir Grantley,' exclaimed R6nee, excitedly; 'she is recovering fast. Excuse me. I don't understand all this.'' ' No ? ' said Sir Grantley, ' neither do I. Perhaps I shall be in the Way. Good night—good morning-I should say. , Ren6e hardly realised that Sir Grantley had left, looking very old and haggard, for her attention was taken up by Qlare, who was struggling back to sensibility, and who now, on recognising her sister, flung her arms round her neck, exclaiming—

4 Oh, ReD, Ren, is there no more happiness on earth ?. My poor heart's broken ; I shall die.'

CHAPTER LIII.

A SEPARATION OF TWO LIVES

Tom Hetley proved, on reaching the police-station, that if lie possessed a very small body, it contained plenty of soul. Ho was staggered at the charge brought against his brother-in-law that of being a party to a serious attempt at burglary on the previous night, and soon found that there was nothing to be done till the next day. He listened to Huish's asseverations of innocence very quietly, but said nothing till he exclaimed— 'Why, Tom, you cannot believe me guilty of this monstrous charge.' ' I can only believe one thing just now, John Huish, , he replied, 'and that is that you are my dear sister's husband, and that for her sake everything possible must be done to help you out of the

scrape.' ' Yes, damme, my boy,' cried Lord Anthony, querulously, ' everything but— but—but—l never heard of such a case, and it's all a lie. John, my boy, I always liked you ; it's a cursed impertinent lie, isn't it?' ;. 'It is, indeed, Lord Anthony,' cried Huish, earnestly—' unless—unless —' He stopped, gazing from one to the other in a curiously bewildered fashion.: ' Unloss—unless what, my boy? Damme, why don't you speak out ?' 'Let it rest to-night, sir, , said Huish, in an altered voice. '.I am confused — shocked. Get me some good advice tomorrow, Tom, and when the examination comes ofiy you will, of course, find bail.'

Tom nodded, but did nob shake hands. 'I'll'do everything I cau,' he said, sternly. ' Won't you shake hands ?' said Huish. .'No,'replied Tom, ' not till you are cleared. Huish, , he said, in a whisper, ' I shall work day and night to clear you for Clare's sake; but I've heard some blackguardly things about you lately. This, though, is worse than all.' Huish turned from him, looking dazed and strange, to shake hands with Lord Anthony. «I—I—don't believe a word of, it,- .

he. cried, angrily. .'; You—you-^you ■ police fellows. are always, yes,, damme,: always making mistakes of this kiiicl^and, —and damme if I don't havei the matter brought before the House of Lords. Good night, my dear boy, make them give you everything you-want, and, we'll be here first thing in the ■morning.'.- r--'It's —it's—it's iiabout the most, dis- , graceful thingl ever knew, my dear boy, he said to Tom as soon as they were in the street, 'but my dear Tom, if you don't • take me on to the club and give me , some supper I shall [faint. , ,i. ; 'You must be sharp, then, father,' cried Tom. 'Clare will :be horribly anxious.' : . ■■■ 'Yes, yes, poor girl, she will; but it will be all .right to-morrow. Tom, my boy, I'm not so strong as I was, and this has upset nie terribly.' There was no doubt aboiit it, for, on glancing round, Tom'saw that the old gentleman looked very haggard. A good supper, however, restored him, and , .he left the club in pretty good spirits , ' to accompany Tom to Weatbourne-road, where they were met by the announcement'that ''master came back a bit ago, and had gone away with missus.' 'What does this mean ?' said Tom, sternly. , ' Mean, my boy? . Why that ho has got bail' ■'■ '. , ' . ;,; ' I'm afraid not,'said Tom to himself, and with the full belief that his ;biother-in-law had contrived to escape, he accom.panied his father home, keeping, however, his thoughts to himself. In the morning, however, there was the news that a message had come for her ladyship to go to Wiinpole-street, where Mrs. Hiri'sh had arrived on the previous night, ' Was John Huish there, too.?' askod Tom, sharply. ' I didn't hear, Tom,'said her ladyship, haughtily. ' I know knothing of such a person, and I will no have my name sullied by' mention in connection with his. , ' But you'll go and soo Clare ?' said Tom. ' No.' exclaimed her ladyship. •If she prefers her uncle's help, let her enjoy it.. I have no more to eay except that I shall, not go ; and, Anthony, I forbid you to go there—for the present.' ; ' You have long ceased to obey me. , said her ladyship, austerely, , and must tiike your own course.. I will net, however be dragged into this dreadful scandal. , ' Humph .!.' said Tom. 'Then you let it all out, dad, after you'd gone to bed. , ' Yes, my son, yes, , said Lord Anthouy, starting, for ho was in the act of slipping a hard-boiled egg into his coat pocket. ' Your mamma was very anxious, and I told her all. , 'As you like, , said Tom. ' I'm off now to secure counsel. We'll have him out before night. , Lady Denver sighed and wiped her eyes, but no one paid any heed to her, so she consoled her injured feelings with a good breakfast. ; Meantime John .Huish, on being left alone in his cell, groaned bitterly, and then sat through the night, thinking and calling up from the past all the strange 'things that had been laid to his charge. 'What does it mean ?' he cried aloud. ' Am I a madman, or a somnambulist, or, do I lead a double life ?' It was terrible—that being shut up in such a place ; for when the other prisoners were silent, there was a dreadful clock close by, which seemed in its close harsh brazen way to gall him to distraction. It was a hurried clock that always seemed manifesting itself and warning people of the flight of time, so that every quarter of an hour it fired off a vicious "ting-tang," in the two discordant notes, that m;iy a bad descending third, repeating itself at the half -hours, tripling at the third quarter, and at the hour snapping as it were at the world four times before allowing the hammer on another bell to radidly go off slam—slam—shim till its duty was done. 'Clocks are bad enough,' he thought, ' from the warnings they give of how short our lives are go'wingr, but when a man is iti trouble and bells are added the effect is madening indeed.' He sat trying to think till he was bewildered : matters connected with the elopement he could not arrange so that they fitted with his life, and at last, in a complete maze, he sat listening to the noisy singing , of a woman in the next cell, and the drunken howlings of a man on the other side. 'My poor darling , !' he cried, at last ; 'it will almost break her heart. A burglary ! and if they should prove that I was guilty, oh, it is monstrous.' He tried to pace his cell, but it was too narrow, and he sat down again with his .bands pressed to bis forehead with the mental darkness coming down upon him thicker than that of his cell. ' It's like some nightmare, , he said at last, ' and as if in some way my brain were unhinged.' He shuddered, for just as it.happened whenever ho had worked his mind up into this excited state, there cume before him that evening at Doctor Stonor's ; the insane patients, and the unrolling- of that ghastly mummy. There was its hideous dark pinched face, with the lines for eyes, and the grinning mouth, haunting him as it had haunted him a hundred times before. 'It is somehow connected with that horrible act,' he cried, half aloud. "I should not have given countenance to it by my presence. Bah ! how foolish! What a silly superstious idea. I was troubled with this strange absence long before that. Absence—absence.of mind ! My God ! Will a judge believe me if I eay for defence that I committed ,a robbery in a fitof absence of mind ?' ' One has heard of strange things in people's lives, , he thought after a time ' how they have, been totally unconcious of what took place in one. lalf of their existence. Is it possible that my. life is divided into two, during each of which I am ignorant of what passes in the other ? Bat who would believe it. I'll have Stonor here first thing to-morrow.' Ho sat growing darker and darker, and vainly struggling against the. black oppression ; and at last, with a weary wail, he exclaimed, unconciouslj: — 'My poor darling , , what a nig-ht for you ! Last night happy and admired at Doctor Stonor'a—to-night—oh, thank God —thank God !'...■ For the light had come. :, Of course—yes. The police declared that the burglary had taken place the previous night,abo.ut nine o'clock at a City house, and. that he /was seen and nearly captured Why a dozen people could prove that he was a Doctor Stonor's the whole evening , . He rose and tapped sharply at hie cell door. ; ' Now then, , said a rough voice. ' What is it?' ' Kindly ask'the inspector to corno here for a moment, said Huish. '■• The officer on duty came from his desk where he had been entering the last charge, that of a little old woman, who would persist in believing that she was Eve in the streets and dress accordingly, when the public thought it better to provide her with a little dressing-room in the shape of a cell. ' Well, sir,' he said, with offioial brevity. ' Sorry to trouble you,' said Huish, "but that burglary—when was it ?' ' Nine o'clock last night, that is the night beforelast, for it is now four o'clock. ,

' Thank God, , said Huish, and he lay down upon that peculiarly soft feather bed and pillows provided by a humane Government at police stations for arrested people, and slept souudly till morning. (To be continued.)