The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1888-02-11 00:00:00

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE SNOW.
THE curtains were drawn aside, the window thrown

open, and the sudden gush of cold air sent those
around Harold shivering to one side. In another
moment he had recovered his usual impassive self-
control; but feeling that he had borne as much as
nature would permit, he decisively drew the arm

of his wife beneath his own, and sternly whispered:
The ordeal is over. Come with me, for I must go
home, or die, in this vanity fair."
Mrs. Danvers muttered some indistinct words, but
yielded to the wish he expressed; and, bowing to the
circle, the two hurriedly sought the fair hostess, to
pay their parting compliments.
Rose pressed the hand of her mother, and softly
whispered:
"What a blow to my uncle—to us all! Oh,
mamma, what can be the mystery of this unnatural
union.?"

"Heaven knows, Rose. I dare not even attempt
to guess. But, hush; our chagrin must not be
betrayed to others. Oh! it is an incomprehensible
affair. We had better go. Mr. Alsop, pray call for
my carriage; it grows very late, and we must return
home."

The young man went on his errand and the ladies
made their way toward the cloak-room.
The departure of Mrs. Chard arid her daughter was
the signal for loosing the tongues of those who had
witnessed the meeting between the wife of Harold
Danvers and the woman who for years had been
known to be his affianced bride.
Mrs. Pierre was the first to speak:

What on earth could have induced Harold Danvers to
marry that dowdy? Was she a millionaire? and had
he gambled away all his fortune? I declare I never
was so puzzled in all my life."
"Very likely he hafi lost his means as you suggest,
for he was a man of pleasure; but I should once have
said that such a man would have preferred poverty
to the necessity of taking such a wife as that. She is
positively odious and vulgar. I think I can amend
your judgment—pithy as it was. I should call her a
parcel of malice, put up in brass. To think that such
a creature should have the assurance to look down on
us because we were born on this side of the
Channel! I declare, I pity that poor fellow of a
husband."

While these criticisms were freely uttered, the two
who occasioned them were seated in a luxurious
carriage, rolling rapidly from the scene of gaiety
in which one of them had most unwillingly borne a
part. Danvers leaned back and seemed to breathe
heavily and painfully, while his wife was nursing her
wrath until it gained a sufficient degree of acridness
to imbue every word she might utter with due
venom. She at length spoke in French, but not the
pure lingua Franca, nor the maned French of a lady
of finished education; a mixed patois flowed volubly
from her lips, which we translate to suit ourselves.
"So, sir, the ordeal proved more than you could
calmly bear, even with all your assumed stoicism.
This Amy, to whom you were so long betrothed, yet
whom you never had courage to marry, has seen your
ugly, ill-bred wife. I could see that she was filled
with amazement—perhaps with compassion for you,
for in spite of her efforts to conceal them, I read her
feelings as easily as I understood the rapid beating of
your heart against the arm you unconsciously pressed
to your side as we drew near her."
"Yet—yet you did all you could to torture me!
Never did I see you appear to such disadvantage. Oh,
Heaven! why should I be a martyr to such a tate !"
"Because weakness and want of principle have, in
your case, met their just reward. / regard a martyr
as a person with some strength of will and purpose;
not a being ruled by circumstances, and tyrannised
over by—well, you know what, so I need not par-
ticularise."

"No—unfortunately I comprehend too well," and
the sigh which closed the sentence was so deep that
his tormentor paused a few moments, as if to afford
him time to feel all the bitterness of a vain regret.
At length she asked, in a quick, fierce tone,
"Why did you not marry Mrs. Chard before your
uncle took her from you? She loved you once; nay,
I am not sure that she does not love you yet, in spite
of her assumed indifference."
"Heaven forbid! that so noble and true a woman
should love one so fallen from his high estate as I am
—so unworthy to remember that first manly dream
of happiness with which she was so fondly linked! I
did love Amy Chard with all the strength—all the
power of my nature, but—but—l dared not wed her.
My course towards her was criminal, but you have no
right to an explanation of its cause. Now, madam, I
trust that you are satisfied that in wringing this
acknowledgment from me, you have gained nothing
that you did not know before. If you deserved the
name of woman, this is a subject on which your lips
would have been sealed."

Ah, indeed! Keep cool, Mr. Danvers, for I—who
have the most cause to be indignant—am not at all
excited. It seems to me very singular that this
paragon of an Amy should have married a man who
was old enough to be her father, simply because he
was rich."
"Amy is not mercenary—she did not marry until
she had obtained the certainty that I had degraded
myself to your level. Then, to retain the child
which her best friend had bequeathed to her, she
gave her hand to my uncle. With his dying breath
the words were uttered which gave Mrs. Chard the
right to retain Rose as her daughter. Mercenary!
No !—lt was an act of self-renunciation; of tender love
for the child of her adoption. Amy was already in-
dependent ; wealth was no inducement, for she could
have married others suited to herself in years, who
were quite equal to my uncle in worldly goods."
"Of course this paragor's peerless and stainless,"
was the mocking response "Everything she touches
Is transmuted into sometning rich and rare, and her
most equivocal actions are dictated by the loftiest and
mu est motives. Yet before seeing me this evening
she permitted one of the crowd of fools and flatterers
who thronged around the rich widow, to say of me
what I will never forgive."
"Well, what then? Mrs. Chard cannot be account-
able for all that is said to her. Neither can she, as a
well-bred woman, notice the efforts of malice to
wound her through a new connection."
"And one so open to the shafts of malevolent wit
you would add if you dared. No one knows better
than myself wherein lam vulnerable; yet I do not the
less resent the irepertinence when I become aware of it.
This insult I shall not forget, I assure you."
"What could it have been that was so keenly
pointed as to inflict an incurable wound ?"
"A scandalous insolence! I heard it whispered
around, more than once, that I am a small parcel of
nothing poorly put up. The sneerers shall find out
that I am a nothing that can sting; and poorly as I
may be put up by nature, the trappings of wealth
shall enable me to eclipse them all."
After this remark, she sank into a corner of the
carriage, and wrapped her furs more closely around
her, for the night was intensely cold, and snow lay
heaped up in the gutters, where it had been thrown
in masses of a repulsive grayish colour, bearing little
resemblance to the feathery crystals which had fallen
to the earth a few hours before.
Suddenly the carriage stopped. With a shiver
Danvers lowered the window to inquire the cause.
The driver answered:
"Not much, sir; only a woman has dropped down
here at the crossing, and the horses started back when
they saw her lyin' at their feet. Poor thing; she
seems to have fainted like."
Obeying the first promptings of humanity, Danvers
opened the door, and was in the act of springing out,
when his wife grasped his cloak, and said:
"It's only some pauper. Let the driver go to her;
why should you risk your health in looking after such
as she is ?"
He angrily shook off her grasp.
" Woman ! no—no—the first impulse of a true
woman would be to aid a suffering sister. Torment!
Nemesis! whatever you may be, let go your holdthat
I may lift this poor wretch from the frozen ground,
which is scarcely colder than the heart that would
prevent me from assisting her."
"Go, then," she muttered: "This keen wind will
only enable the Evil One to claim his own a little
sooner."
Danvers had not waited for this ungracious Psi'-
mission; he tore his cloak from her yielding fingers,
and hurried to the side of the insensible woman. The
horses reared and threatened to become unmanage-
able, and the driver was too busily engaged with
them to give his master any assistance. She seemed
to have fallen from exhaustion, and as Danvers raised
her head with difficulty, the glare from a neighbour-
ing gaslight fell upon a pallid face, so worn and
emaciated by suffering ant' want as to be pitiable to
look on.
He stooped over the prostrate form, half rose with
a stifled cry of horror, and his hair seemed to stiffen
as his dilating eyes fixed themselves upon the wasted
features. Then, with sudden strength, he netched

her from the earth, and held her doe& to the light as
he groaned:
"It is—it is ! reduced to this! Has retribution
found me when Tam least able to bear it ?"__

The woman unclosed her eyes—gazed wildly upon
the face that looked upon her. Gradually a perception
of his identity seemed to reach her clouded faculties;
she passed her hands over her eyes as if to clear away
a mist, and slowly said:
"At last we have met; at last, after years of weary
searching. Heaven has sent you to me in my
extremity. My child is dying—dying of cold, of want,
of wretchedness, and my heart is breaking. Come—
come—l left him to obtain a physician, for he needs
help; but I was faint with hunger, and I must have
fallen from exhaustion. Come with me, I conjure
you, for Heaven must have sent you to me in my
dire need."

"Madeline, is it indeed yourself ?" he hoarsely
asked ; " or art thou a phantom raised up to mock my
misery—to make me feel that all my past sins are
coming in the same hour to ask for atonement ?"
By this time the woman had regained complete
command of her senses; she lifted herself from his
arms, as she slowly said—
" Deserted for years, I came to this city with no
vain hope that my claims would be acknowledged. I
know that I have no power to enforce them, but my
child is bright, promising, and lovely. Come with me
where he lies ill, even unto death; let your wealth
rescue him from the grim conqueror, and I will give
him up to you, while I seek some nook in which to
lay me down and die, far, far away from you—from
him." _

Pallid, worn, and wretched as the speaker was,
there was a depth of desolate anguish in the tones
of her voice, an expression of dignity in her misery
that commanded respect. Danvers felt a pang of
shame as he thrust his hand in his pocket and drew
forth his purse. He attempted to press it in her
hand, as he hurriedly said:
"it is impossible for me to accompany you now.
Take this for the sake of he lad, and give me your
address—to-morrow I will see you. I will make ar-
rangements to have you properly cared for. I must
go, for this night air is chilling me to the heart—yet
you are exposed to it while I ride. Take my cloak."

_
He was in the act of taking it from his shoulders
when a shrill voice, from the carriage window, ex-
claimed: _

"Would you give a fur cloak worth forty pounds
to wrap a street beggar ? Fie, Mr. Danvers,
are you mad? Who is this woman, and why do you
hold so long a conversation with her on this freezing
night ?"
"She is one I once knew; she has claims upon me,
Adelina, that cannot be set aside."
"Then give her money and end this scene."
The stranger looked into the angry face of the
speaker, and pointing to her slowly said:
"And she—what is she to you, Harold Gordon,
and why does she address you by a name unknown to
me ?" _ _ _

"Because that is his truename, and lam his wedded
wife," responded Mrs. Danvers, with angry emphasis.
"How long is this disgraceful scene to last, Mr.
Danvers? What can this woman be to you, and why
do you linger near her thus ?"
A faint cry, stifled in its birth, issued from the pale
lips of Madeline, and she turned swiftly away as she
said:

"Enough! enough! The quest of years is ended—
I have found but to lose you—degraded—lost—lost !"
and her voice died away in the distance as she fled
swiftly from his presence, unconscious of the weak-
ness which had so recently overcome her.
Danvers would have rushed after her, but his wife
sprang from the carriage and grasped his arm, as she
said, in a commanding tone:
"Get into the carriage—this exposure will destroy
you."
"I care not—Madeline did not take the money.
She did not give me her address. She is perishing of
want! Woman, do not detain me now; I must
pursue her—must overtake her."
"It will be useless now; she is out of sight. Seek
her to-morrow."

„ .
"Seek her amid the thousands of wretched poor in
this city! How could I hope to find her in time to
give her efficient aid ?”
"It does not matter much, even if you fail. Really,
it seems to me I am greeted charmingly on my
arrival in your native city. Presented in one evening
to an old love in high life, and to an ex—hem ! friend
in the lowest circles. I may be pardoned for placing
the street beggar there, I suppose. Get into the
carriage, Mr. Danvers, and make such an amende
honourable as you can, by explaining this very
singular scene to me."
Mechanically Danvers obeyed, for this woman
seemed to possess a power over him which he dared
not defy. He sank back on the seat panting for
breath, and buried his face in his hands. His companion
closed the door herself, and called to the driver to
proceed. She then settled herself comfortably in her
seat, and, in her most sarcastic tone, said—
"And now, my amiable cara sposa, what does this
last scene mean? What relation does that ghastly-
_

looking creature sustain toward the high-bred,
elegant, aristocratic Harold Danvers ? Make haste, I
pray you, to unravel this knot of mystery, for my
curiosity is on the qui vice."
With a sigh that sounded like a groan, the unhappy
man lifted his head, and defiantly replied—

_
"Except in public, I do not act apart toward you,
madam; our mutual relations forbid it. You have no
right to demand an explanation of this scene, nor will
give it. It is the one fatal concealment of my life,
which has brought me to what I am—which formed
the connecting link with the chain that binds me to
you, the barrier between myself and happiness, a
barrier which will be repented unto death.''

A bond and a barrier which death alone shall break,"
she vindictively replied. "Body and soul you are
mine; so let the dainty Amy, the lowly pauper,
beware how they interfere with my claims. I com-
mand you not to seek this woman or her child. Let
them perish in their misery; that fate is good enough
for such as they."
He gloomily replied—
" The command is scarcely needed, for it will be
useless to attempt to find them now. Madeline will
afford no clue to her place of shelter; when she fled
so abruptly from me, I knew that all was over. Such
tardy atonement as I might now make is denied me,
for Heaven, the avenger, will not permit even this
poor consolation to me."
"I will see that you do not attempt to gain it, at all
events," she icily replied. Then, with a sudden burst
of passion, she went on: "Harold Danvers, I once
loved you like an idiot, now I will torment you like a
fiend. You might have turned me to your will, but
you showed the loathing and the scorn of your imperious
nature for the creature you were forced to wed, and
thus have you aroused the deadlier passions which
might for ever have lain buried beneath the conscious-
ness that my devotion was appreciated. If lam your
Nemesis, it is your own fault. A pure incarnation of
selfism, you never yet have considered others, .and the
deep shadows on your future are but the work of your
own hand."
"It is true," muttered the conscience-stricken man.
I accept the retribution, terrible as it is."
(To be continued.)