Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TWICE TRIED.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXII, Issue 2614, 13 April 1889, Page 5 (Supplement)

Novelist. [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.] TWICE TRIED.

BY ANNIE S. SWAN, Author of " Aldersyde," "Carlowrie," " Across Her Path," " Sundered Hearts," &C, &c.

CHAPTER XXVlll—Faiikweia. PvOBEKT Angus went down stairs, entered his wife's study, and shut the door. It is well there are not many such moments in life ; they could not be compensated on earth. He walked up and down the floor of the darkened room, sometimes pausing to look curiously at the moon beams which, stealing through the half-closed Venetians, made pale, uncertain lines across the carpet. After a time he sat down in his wife's chair, at the writing table in the window, and buried bis face in his arms. He sat thus in absolute silence for a long time. In the kitchen the three maids were grouped about the hearth, wondering what could be the matter, and afraid, though it was near midnight, to go to bed, lest their services should bo required. The master had had nothing when ho came off his journey, and they dared not intrude to ask for any orders This terrible, unknown, but crushing sorrow seemed to be more dire in its consequences than Eric's death. " I'll go up and knock at the mistress's door," said Kitty, bravely rising when the eight-day clock on the kitchen stairs rang twelve. " I'm not fit to stand this quietness no longer." She stole lightly up the stairs to the dining room flat, but just as she pulled the baize-eovered door back she paused, for there was a footfall coming down from the upper landing, and in a moment she saw the white-robed figure of her mistress, with her long dark hair fastened by a silver pin and hanging about her shoulders, glide across the hall into the study. So there was nothing for her but to go back to her neighbours again, which she did, shivering as if she had seen a ghost. Robert Angus was not conscious of the opening of the door, not conscious of the light footstep crossing the floor, and he started violently when he felt a presence near him, and when his wife's hands entwined themselves about his arms. But he did not look up nor utter any word. " Holier!," sho said, nfc length, in an almost voiceless whisper, but lie hoard it. i: I have ohm; back. ! was very hud upon you. It was my pride that was hurt. Forgive lir, , .' Let us bear this together while we iiiiiy -' ]!<! turned nbout., folded his arms about the knee!in.,' figure, :iml drew it to his br'vi-st. He bent down his head, and rested his cheek upon the shining brown tresses with which

he had so often played. After a a time she felt his tears falling on her hands; and with a quick sob she wound her arms about his neck, and prayed him to be calm. It was more than she could bear. "You have forgiven rae, Joan , ?"

ho said, at length. " You believe it was through my love for you I erred. It was a terrible temptation. J lad I loved you less T need not have succumbed to it so easily." " I know, I know !" she answered, quickly. "It is I who may ask for forgiveness for my hardness of heart. 1 ought not to be here," she continued, her voice falling to a whisper again. "It can be no sin, can it, seeing it must be the last time, and that we part to-morrow?" " For ever, Joan ?' " Don't ask me, Robert!" she moaned. "It is sufficient for me to bear as it is." " When I think of your ruined lifo, my darling, I am unmanned," he said, hoarsely. " You of all women to have such a fate. Was it for this you bestowed upon tiie the unspeakable blessing for your love?"

" Hush ! hush ! We must not, dare not, question ; only accept, as unrnurmuringly as we can what can not be helped," she whispered. " After all, we have been happy. We have memory to live upon. I am not sure that if I conld I would undo the past. I have really tasted life's sweets these past two years."

" Joan," said Robert Angus, so suddenly and earnestly that involuntarily she started, " you know there is one way which we can—partially, at least—remedy the evil my unhappy wife has wrought. Can you guess I" " Yes, you can ask the law to make your former marriage null and void," she answered. " But " " But what, my darling f

"You remember what the Bible says of the man who shall marry again after he is divorced," she said, shrinkingly. " Though you should divorce yourself from Amy Burnett, and we should be married, I could never feel as if I had any right to be your wife." "Then we must part indefinitely, perhaps for ever, Joan V "I—-I think it would be better so," she faltered. "We will get strengih. It may not be so hard as you think." " But you, Joan ! Do you know what it will involve for you ! Exclusion from the world; from the society of which you have been so bright an ornament." " If that be the world's verdict, I am content to accept it," she said, with a strange, sad smile. " And what will society be to me without you.' . They were silent again, each weighed down by tha burden of the dark future, which seemed like some tossing, shoreless sea, without haven or destination, "You have seen Amy?" said Joan enquiringly, after a time. "Yes, I saw her. I met her by accident one day in the park walking with Lady Finch's children. Knowing Lady Pinch had brought agoverness with you from Newfoundland, I had no difficulty in understanding the whole matter." " Then you went." " I did." " What did she say V

" Don't ask me, Joan. If there be a woman on earth utterly devoid of feeling or heart except in her own interests that woman, is Amy Burnett," he said, passionately. " Her chief and only fear was that we should reveal her long deception to her benefactress." "It is terrible to think what a living lie her life has been these past four years," said Joan, shuddering. " Poor erring Amy ! One wrong step has led to too many more. " Joan, is it possible you can have an atom of—of sympathy or compassion for her 1" exclaimed Ilobcrt, in astonishment. " When I think of her poor mother, when I remember what slio was, Robert, there is nothing but pity in my heart for her," said Joan, her face shining with divine unselfishness. " Whatever my lofc may be, hers is the harder, for my conscience has no burden upon it." " I never knew till now how utterly unworthy I was of you, Joan," said Robert Angus, humbly. " When I hoard you speak, I feel as if I could almost bo strong to part with you. And yet, God knows, without you my life will be empty indeed." "On this side, but over yodnerall will be well," whispered Joan, dreamily, and her face shone with something of the peace which, in answer to her agonised prayer, had come as a benison from Heaven. " See, the dawn is breaking," she said, rising to her feet, and pointing to the faint glimmering of light in the room. " You are in need of rest, and so am I. Later in the day—for it is a new day now—we can talk more, and make our arrangements." A smile flickered for a moment on the grave beautiful mouth, but the quivering of the lips speedily dispelled it. Hlio was brave, indeed, but it would not in a moment be crushed down. She bent over him, laid hur white hand c.irossingly on tin; dark head, lightly touched his brow willi her lips, and glided from '.In: room. J.n her heirfc oi: hearts she said it was her last farewell.

wi-foie the; day was very old, .Mr and Mrs Angus from Aucheiigr.sy arrived at the house in Cadogn.iv

place, having travelled all night. Isabel could not rest until she had seen and spoken with Joan. Poor Isabel! it seemed as if her dead brother's sins were being visited indeed upon her head, and this was the bitterest fruit of all. Robert received them. He had only thrown himself upon the. studyconch, sleep being out of the question. Kitty told him her mistress had fallen asleep in her dressingroom. " Whore is Joan V said Isabel, hurriedly, putting back her veil from her haggard face. " Will she see me ? Does she feel hitter against me 1 I should not wonder, only it would break my heart." ' " None of us know Joan yet, Mrs Angus," replied Robert, with a mournful smile. "And I, who have been blessed with her close companionship so long, know her least of all. There is no bitterness in her heart. The way in which she has borne this awful shock is quite unlike anything I have ever seen. She is more an angel than a woman. She would even pity and pardon the woman who has done her so bitter a wrong." " Then she is too good for this world. She won't live," replied Mr Angus, almost hotly. "Is there no law to punish a person who has done what that person has done; I daren't trust myself to name her. Can't she be hanged, or something?" "Hush! hush!" said Isabel,

gently. " No, I won't hush ! I must speak to somebody or I'll explode. The hussey. I only wish I had her here. John Burnett can't have brought up his children properly, or they wouldn't turn out such reprobates."

Isabel turned about and quitted the room, and Robert listened patiently to his father's ravings, guessing they would relieve his mind. He had been so stunned at first at the story his son told him at Auchengray that he had been unable to utter a word.

" Well, what are you going to do ? " enquired the old gentleman, when lio had spent his wrath in plain speaking- about Amy Burnett.

"Of course, there will be no difficulty in getting a divorce, and then, you can be married again." "There would be no difficulty, but -Joan will not agree to it," replied Robert, quietly. " Not agree to it ? In the name of wonder, why not?" " She has peculiar and strong ideas on certain subjects, father," said Eobert, with difficulty. " Her decision in this matter I believe to be firm, and unalterable. I would rather not discuss it just now, if you please." " Then what is she going to do ?" queried Mr Angus, in open-mouthed amazement. Robert shook his head. " Does she know what the thing involves ? Has she faced it in all its bearings ? Does she know how the world treats people in such a position ? "

" She knows that she will have to retire into solitude, that she can have no position anywhere! " groaned Robert Angus, in the anguish of his soul.

" Is the woman inad 1" " For. Heaven's sake, father, be quiet, if you cannot say aught to help or comfort," said Robert, passionately, unable to bear any more. " I never heard the like of it," said the banker, more quietly. " And you were so happy together ; and Isabel and I were so proud and happy in you both. Poor Joan? poor, poor girl!" His warm, impulsive feelings would no longer be hid under the semblance of blustering anger. His firm under lip quivered, tears chased each other down his cheeks, and he cried like a child. To Robert Angus the sight of his father's grief was even more painful than his assumed irritability, and he began to walk restlessly to and fro to master his own feeling. " Isabel and I have talked it over, Robert," said the old man at length, " and we've arrived at a conclusion. I'm getting to be an old man now; time I was getting aside for active life. I'll give up the whole concern, and we'll go abroad, and make a home for that poor stricken creature, who had scarcely known a clay's happiness since her father died. I think she will be happy with us. We'll do what w>l can to make up for all she has lost—at least she'll feel that she isn't alone in this cold, cruel world."

"God bless you, father!" fell hoarsely from Robert Angus's lips, and he took his father's hand in a grip of iron, which told a little of the relief, the unspeakable gratitude which filled his soul. Just then"the door opened, and Isabel looked in. Her face was wet with tears, and her voice tremulous with emotion.

" Joan would like to see you," she said to her husband. " You need not be afraid, she is very calm and composed. Her fortitude is simply marvellous."

Robert Angus, the younger, remained below while the two went upstairs. He had no right any more to seek his wife's presence; she was his no more. They were as completely parted as if death had taken the one and left the other. Perilip.-; in time that thought might IjH less fraught with agony ; and yet it wns greater than lie could lie:>i. It was rapidly" arranged that d.iy that Mr Angus, the elder, .should escort his own wife and Joan bank to C.uni"S, where they would remain

until his affairs were wound up, and he could join them there. That was all that was settled in the meantime, the discussion of the future being left till Joan was more able to bear it. She was very calm, very sweet, very passive in their hands, like one, Isabel thought, whose interest of life was dead.

On the evening of the second day the trio started for the sunny South, once more leaving Robert Angus alone in the desolate house. It had been agreed that nothing need be said yet about the extraordinary change in their domestic affairs. Soon—ay, too soon—the world's tongue would wag freely, making light of what was of such terrible moment to them.

Joan would not seek a private parting from her husband. Isabel gussed the reason why. Her heart was already too sorely riven. He was in the hall to see them off, and when the others stepped out Joan turned to him and held out her hand. Neither spoke ; but the language of theVycs, those mirrors of the soul, could not be mistaken. In both shone the deep, unquenchable yearning of unalterable love. It was over in a moment. Mr Angus came back, took Joan on his arm, and drew the hall door close after them. A moment more, and the carriage wheels rattled over the stony street, and Robert Angus was alone indeed, among the ruins of his happiness and his home. (To be cotUhmrrl.)