Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TWICE TRIED.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2593, 23 February 1889, Page 1 (Supplement)

Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TWICE TRIED.

BY ANNIE S. SWAN, Author of " Aldnrsyde," " G-.irlowrio, " Across Her I'ath," " Sundered Heart.-, CHAPTER XV Li (00-vtixued.)

We will not follow Mrs Burnett to the Thorn, nor linger over the

terrible agonising suspense of that interminable day. At noon next day llobert Angus returned to Auchengray, a worn and haggard man, with an expression of restless misery on his face. He walked up to the Bank, briefly informed his father that lie had heard no word of of his wife in the North, beyond the fact that she had lefb Dingwall on Tuesday, ostensibly to return home. Each knew well tho thought of the other's heart, but neither dared utter it yet. " I will go home. It is possible thore may be a letter forme thoro," Ivobert said, and his father saw him depart, and watched with an aahing heart the-tall figure, with tho fine head drooping dejectedly upon tho "breast, walk with slow and hopeless step up the hill to Fairgato. Not jot had anything about these events transpired in Auchongray, although tho eager busybodies wore puzzled to understand the proceedings of IRobort Angus the younger. Tho maids at Fuirgate wore relieved to see their master return, and Jessie Forbes mot him at tho door with a letter in her hand.

"It came this morning, sir," she said, glad in her kindly way to administer some relief to the anxiety ■which she saw still possessed him. He took the letter, hung up his hat mechanically, and opened the din-ing-room door. But the large, lofty room, brilliant with the noon sunshine, seemed to chill liiai to the heart, and, stepping across the hall, lie entered his .own little sanctum, which he used as a study as well as a business room, and locked himself in. There was no sunshine here, except one stray gleam which stole through the thick foliage of the chestnut overshadowing the window and cast a long line of light acuJs.s the floor. He sat down

there and looked curiously at iho address, his own name written in the sharp, fashionable handwritinghe knew so well. Then he looked at the postmark, which was Queenstown, and the date that of the previous day. He was in no hurry to open it, knowing full well what it contained. Nevertheless, he did at length carefully cut it open with liis° paper-knif t>, and quietly un- '. folded the closely-written .sheet within. As he did so, his face wore a very curious expression, but he neither looked agitated nor excited. That was past. The calm of conviction had succeeded ;—•

S.S. Sidonia, " In the Clyde, April 19th. " Dkaji RoiiEiiT, —Something impels me to write to you, though, if you know of my uuworthincss when this letter reaches you, you will never read it, I would not write at all, but, remembering how you blamed yourself for your treatment of me, I want to say that to my dying day I shall only think of it with gratitude and love. You were good, too good, to me, Robert. I did not deserve it. I never deserved your love, because I could not love you in return. When yon know how and with whom I have gone away, you will go back in thought, I know, to the times before our marriage when Rolfe Ransome seemed to come between us. Ho taught me to care for him then, and but for my father anil mother I should have listened to him and sent you away. Only Ido not blame them. It was out of their love for mo, I know, but it is not a right thing to force any girl to marry against her will. That is my excuse for what I have clone. When you are all blaming me and thinking hardly of me, remember it was not quite of my own free will that I married you. And now I have one thing to confess before I say good-bye to you for ever. You will remember the night before our marriage you intercepted Rolfe .is he was leaving tho Bank, and kept him from going away ; why, I do not know. If you had not done that, I should not be writing these words now, because I should never have been your wife. We had planned to go away together that night, and be married in Glasgow, and I was waiting for him at the old bridge at the very time when you were keeping him in the house, then, when he did not come, I just went homo, anil went through the dreary ceremony which made ma your wife. I was nearer truly loving you than I ever felt before or since, and I believed I should be happy enough at Fairgatc, About five months after we came home, Rolfe explained to me how he had failed to keep his appointment, and it made me feel very bitter against you, for I did not know why you should haveiuterfcred, and thus spoiled three lives. I need not say much more. I always felt, somehow, that though you were good and kind— too good and kind to mo—you had not so much respect for me (is you had, for instance, for Mrs Angus and Joan Laurence. Of course, I was not olevor, nor intellectual, nor anything ; only a poor ignorant little girl, who loved to bo surrounded by all brightness and sunshine. It made me very miserable-, and I saw jV.'hat a mistake we had made in marrying each other. Yon would have been .so much happier with someone like yourself, and I with someone who understood me, and did not despise mo for my lack of cleverness, And so I thought and thought until it seemed to mo no (jreat sin to rid you of t the wife who was so little of a companion to you. And so I went away. I hatrd to deceive you, and to tell tho falsehoods I had to tell at Dinsywall, but there was no use, after my mind was made up, letting- people provent me from going. I have given up a great deal, but I believe I shall bo happier. I have only one thing to ask as

;i last favour, that you will not delay taking , the necessary steps to sever the tie between us, so that we ma}' be married as soou as possible. I feel very heartless and cruel when I am writing- all this, and iny tears niv blotting out the words. You will be so lonely and desolate at Fairyate, and they will make, suuh a talk in the town. Try to forgive me. I have dV.no a very wicked tliiujr, and I know papa and mamma will never, never forgive ni' , ;

but I could not help myself. CireumM'iuicea have been against, me for a long* time. B<> don't bo very hard upon me ; and bo kind to my littlo dog for :uy sake. i'oor Floosie always loved nil. , , and was a irreat comfort to me often when I was dull. Weave bound for New York now, fur, of course, we could not go to Sydney just yet. Good-bye. Try to ;.hink of me as you nsorl to do wlicn I pleas;d you best. Thank you, thank you for all your goodness. " Ami Bukxi:tj.v'

With tho same curiously calm expression of face, Robert Angus refolded the lottor and laid it on tho desk. Then ho folded his arms across Ins chest, and, dropping his head on his breast, fixed his eyes on the shifting lino of sunshine across the 'door. In absolute silence, without a muscle moving or a change of expression, tho man bore the first agony of his pain. The letter itself was more cruel in its sting than tho blow. It seemed to him Lobe onelougroproacli, andyot, God knew, ho had no need of it; for every trifling tiling, every slight instance in which ho had lacked in love or consideration for his erring wife, returned to him magnified a thousand-fold. Yet the}' were such trifling things after all, too trifling for any but a trifling shallow nature to deign to notice.

Tho day wore on, the line of light shifted yet further across the floor, until it changed to a, deep red glow, the reflection of the sotting sun. In the kitchen tho two maids held whispered, awe-struck conferences, longing, yet afraid, to disturb their master. They knew that something strange and serious must bo amiss with him. Tho spaniel, wearying for tho voice and touch of its mistress, wandered disconsolately about tho house, and finally settled, itself on the mat at the study door. After a time tho maids heard it scratching and whining for admittance, and then tho opening of tho door. At sight of its master the animal leaped upon his knee, barking for very joy. But there was something in that rigid, white face which settled at last its noisy demonstration, and it put its paws on his shoulders and licked his face, its eye 3 almost human in their oxpression of dumb sympathy. "Bo kind to my little dog." It was her last request. Kobort Angus did not know what it was, only tho creature's sympathy seemed to shake tho stony calm which bound his heart and soul. A great trembling shook him, and, leaning his folded arms on the table, he bowed down his head and wept.

CHAPTER XVIII.—The Final Touch. " Will you walk up to Fairgate with me, Isabel V I cannot rest until I know the worst. Then: must have been a letter, 1 think, or liobcrt would have been back by this time. "Yes, I will go. Oh, llobcrt if our worst fears .should be realised, how am 1 to look into your .son's face V she wailed. " It I had never come to Auchongray this terrible thing would not have happened.

" Hush, my dearest ! You are blameless," said the banker, tenderly and yet his own heart was very sore. He felt, somehow, as if he had been the indirect means of inflicting this cruel blow upon his only son. But for him, Rolfe Ransome and Amy Burnett could never have met, " You do not look very fit to walk" ho said, looking anxiously at his wife's white face, worn with the agonising suspense of the last four-and-twenty hours. "We may as well have the carriage. M'Dowall will be about the stable, at any rate."

So saying, Mr. Angus went to give his orders, and Isabel slowly dragged herself up to her dressingroom for her bonnett. She was longing, yet afraid, to see Robert, and to know the worst.

It was about half-past seven when tho Bank carriage drove up tho approach to Fairgatc The maids heard it come with a sense of relief, for their master was still locked in the study, and they were beginning to fear they knew not what. lie, too, heard its arrival, and when Jessie knocked at the door, saying Mr. and Mrs. Angus had arrived, ho unlocked the door and went out, mooting them in tho hall. Isabel hung a little behind her husband, afraid to look upon Robert's face.

" Well !" said Mr. Angus, in a brief, intense monosyllabic.

" Come into the dining-room," Robert said, quietly, then lie turned to Mrs. Angus and took her hand. " I'm glad you have come," he added, in the same, quiet voice. " I have had a letter from my wife," he said, when he had followed them into the room and closed the door. "It was written on board an Atlantic steamer and posted at Queenstown. You can guess the rest."

''Then they have actually gone away together 1" said Ihc banker, huskily. Robert briefly nodded, and walking over to the oriel window, stood there with his back to them. llis hand touched tlie leaves of a white haycinth which had been Amy's pride, and its odour rose up and seemed to sicken him. It recalled so many bitter memories. " Robert.' , A woman's trembling liend touched his arm, a sweet voice fell in broken accents of pleading on his ear. " What can I say ? My heart is breaking for you. I dare not speak to you, and yet I must. Will you forgive me for my part in this ? If I had never come to Auchengray you would not have had (his to bear."

" Hush," he said, rind looked almost wouderingly into her paiu-Hned face. " Why .should you needlessly pain yourself ? Did you think i could over attach any blame to you 1 No, no. I know I have yoiu , sympathy. l J ,nof, poor Amy !" lie seemed quite overcome then, and .sat clowji, covering his face with his hands. Jt came upon him all at once that though his suffering was keen, it was as nothing to what must be in store for the poor misguided girl who had so rashlv thrown away her all. She had sown the wind indeed, and verily only the whirlwind could be the reaping in store. The unselfishness, the true manhood within, was moved with so vast a compassion towards his faithless wife that for the moment his own wrongs were forgotten.

'* I cannot ask you to stay,'' he said at length. "1 am going over now to,the Thorn to show the letter to her atlior and mother. It must be all done with to-night. All that is to be said must be said now. After to-day, no man or woman shall ever hear me mention the subject again." He spoke with quiet yet unmistakcable resolution, as if the course was one he had carefully mapped out for himself. So, with a further expression of deep and heartfelt sympathy, the husband and wife left Fairgatc. Then llobert Angus rang the bell, and when Jessie came, briefly informed her that her mistress would not again return to Fairgate, and that in the meantime she

and her neighbour must do the best they could until some other arrangements concerning the housekeeping could be made. He delivered his communication so calmly and indifferently, as if it were the merest matter of course, that the girl retired in a perfect wonder of amaze. She more than suspected the true state of affairs, but was puzzled to understand how the master could take it so calmly. Poor Jessie, like many another, was deceived by the outward cloak, which so often hides a breaking heart. The sweet twilight was slowly and lingeringly giving place to darkness when llobert Angus crossed the park to the Thorn. lie wondered a little that none of them had sought him at Fairgatc ; yet it was little marvel either ; sometimes uncertainty is to be preferred before knowledge which is only cruel. Polly, who had returned home in the afternoon, opened the door to him, and lifted wide, pathetic, almost pitying eyes to his face. " Are your father and mother in, Polly 1 I can see them, I suppose ¥' he said, quietly. " Yes ; they are shut np together in mamma's room. Oh, llobtn-t, what dreadful thing has happened 1 It is true what Jim says, that Amy lias gone away V she said, and her eyes dropped, for she could not be more explicit. •' It is quite true, Polly. T h:ul a letter from her to-day. She is on her way to America with iLaiusome,' , lie said, quite quietly still. " L am celling you the whole truth, as it is

tho last time I wish to hoar your sister's name mentioned to me. Do you understand 1" She nodded, unable to speak. It seemed to Polly that this was too terrible a trouble to be referred to in "words.

" I will toll papa and mamma that you are here. Will you just go into the study'?" " Yes, Is Jim in tho house, Polly 1 I would rather not see him to-night."

" No, he went out, dreading you would come," said Polly, bursting into tears. "Ho said if it was true he would go away from Auchengray, and never look you in the face again."

"There will bo no need for such a step, Polly," said Robert, with a somewhat mournful smile. " Tell him after 1 am gone to-night that I shall look for him at Fairgatc tomorrow. My friends must not turn their backs upon me now." Polly fled from tho room, her sympathetic tears /lowing afresh. After what seemed a very long time to Robert, in his impatience to be done with the whole painful business, and to bury it away out of outward sight at least, the door was slowly re-opened and Mr Burnett entered.

Robert could not help being glad that Polly had forgotten to light lamp or candle, and that the room was in semi-darkness. " I could not come down Robert," said the factor, huskily. " What can I say ? I feel like to sink into the very earth with shame that a child of mine should have clone as Amy has done. It is true, I suppose 1

" Quite true," Robert answered, so quietly that his father-in-law was amazed, but not deceived. He knew tho inner depths of Robert Angus' nature, and guessed what surged beneath that calm exterior. "I have brought the letter I received to-day," continued Robert, " thinking it right that you and Mrs Burnett should road it before we bury this unhappy business out of sight for ever."

" Robert, can you ever forgive ? I was in such a passion when Elizabeth hinted at tho thing that I could have killed somebody. But that has passed away, and only shame and humiliation remain. How can I express a tithe of what I feel for you, who have to bear the brunt of the blow."

" I know, 1 understand," said Robert, quickly. "Mr Burnett, do yon think I can attach any blame to rnv.self? 1 fear I didn't study my poor wife enough. If she had been happier with me she would never have left me."

"Hush, hush! Don't mako it 'worse for us to boar," interrupted the factor. "If it, is any consolation to you, Robert, you may rest assured that both my wife and I think you were all that is kind and good to her. She could not appreciate her blessings. Poor thing ! poor thing ! she will learn their value by and by. She is making us all suffer now, but her turn will come—-ay, too soon. My anger against her has been quenched in pity for her, Robert: and yet, when I think of the dishonour she has brought upon you, I feel glad that she will not go unpunished. How is it that you can bo so charitable towards her V

" 1 don't know," said Uobort, passing his hand wearily across his brow. "I think it must be because I have failed somewhat in consideration or care for her that I feel nothing but sorrow or compassion for her now. And yet, God knows, it was unwittingly I erred. I thought she was happy, she made me believe it."

" Hush, hush ! It unmans me to hear you reproach yourself," said the factor, more huskily. " Don't let such a thought rest for a moment iu your mind. It has no foundation in truth. You were always too good for her. Pier mother and I feared from the first that she would not make you so happy as you deserved. Will you come up and sec Elizabeth now'?"

" Not to-night, I fool as if I had gone through too much already," he answered, with a dreary smile. " Say to Mrs Burnett I will come and see her when we are both able to boar it better. There is Amy's letter. I will leave it with you. You can return it to me at any time. Good-night."

"Good-night. You will not let this make any dillcrcnco in our relations, Robert ?' said the factor, with all the wistfulness of a child. " Though Amy lias brought disgrace upon you, you will not turn against us 1 We could not do without you at the Thorn."

" God forbid that I should visit the sins of others upon innocent heads," said Robert, fervently. " This will be a great blow to peor Mrs Angus,' , said the factor, as they left the room together. Robert nodded. " Greater than any of us can imagine," he said, insignificantly. " I am sorry for her and for my poor father. I can see he blames himself."

" I thought he would. Goodnight," said Mr Burnett, and he wrung his son-in-law's hand, as if to express more eloquently than in words the yearning sympathy of his soul.

A few yards from the door l.iouwt knocked up poor • lini hurrying info the House:. lie put out Ills hand to detain liiiu, but tlic lad was too quick t'oi , him. "Oh, hang it I Dob, I can't

speak to you, you know. Let me go. I'll never lift up my head again," he muttered, and dashed past him into the house.

Poor Jim ! His impulsive, generous, honest heart was wounded in its very tenderest part. I am not sure but that the blow fell as heavily upon him as upon any inmatt; of the Thorn. Robert Angus seemed fated to encounter all his friends that night, for when he came to Sunset Cottage he saw Joan entering the gate. She had just returned from the Bank, a message having .summoned her here after Isabel's return from Fciirgate. Recognising the stalwart figure, she hurried up tho path as if she dared not meet him face to face. But Robert followed her, and she turned to him at the door. " You have heard, I suppose, Joan ?" he said. " Yes, I have heard ! May God comfort you and help her '" fell in a bursting sob from Joan's lips, and, turning from him, she ran into the house and shut the door.

Not for many a long year had tho busybodies of Auchengray had such a rich tit-bit to discuss, and Robert Angus the younger had to run the gauntlet of the usual nine days' wonder over his domestic calamity. Ho bore it well. After that terrible, trying day he was not absent an hour from business, nor did lie shut himself up in solitude. In him the outer world could detect no change. But those who knew and loved him best were not deceived. The blow had told, the shaft gone home—ay, to its uttermost mark. Within a week the servants wore dismissed, .Fairgatc shut up, and Robert Angus became once more .in inmate of his father's house. It was his own request made to Isabel that she would allow him to take his old place, for the solitude and the thronging memories of Fairgate were more than he could bear. Only a few more days, and the crowning touch was put to the domestic tragedies crowding so thick and fast upon the House of Angus.

One morning, within a fortnight after Amy's flight, Robert was the first to cater the dining-room, and, as was his wont, unfolded the newspaper which had just been brought in. The first tiling that met his view was a paragraph with a sensational heading, which ran as follows —■ ''■ Terrible Catastrophe at Sea —■ A City Liner in Collision with an Iceberg oil' the Coast of Newfoundland— Loss of all on Eoai'd. 1 ' The name of the steamer was the Sidoma, and in the lisc of passengers, given lower down the page, wtre the names—Mr and Airs Rolfe Ran so me. (To be ornithine J.)