Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-06-07

understand that he was a fool to trife with
Claude Morels sister, and a greater fool to in
suit Claude Morel. l take too lofty a view of
the situation, perhaps. That is in my blood.
We Provencals do not easily pardon an injury
or an insult. 1 would kill him for sixpence; but
l would much rather kill him for four thousand
pounds. You say the purchase is to be COM
pleted next week."
nodded yes. My dry lips refused to speak.
Let ME know the day and hour. Let me
know, If you can, the route he is likely to take
from Pail Mall to Observation-Disclosures. Give
me twenty pounds to be ready for what / have
to do and SO that l may have a few pounds
about me to get me out of England in case Of
failure. Do this and you may lie down tonight
secure in the thought that Robert Hatrell's
days are numbered and that his wife will soon
be his widow"
l gave him twenty pounds without a word.
I'll think about the other part of the BUSH
ness" I told him.
Remember, If l am to act you will have to
be prompt and decisive" he said. Il can't
stir a step without exact details. 1 shall shift
my lodgings tomorrow. so as to be near the
scene of action. My present quarters at Cam
den Town are too far afield."
His devllish GOODNESS was too much for me.
l told him l had been talking a: random. l
meant nothing except to test him. He had
proved himself q greater villain than | had
thought possible, and l never wanted to see his
face again.
You will think better of that" he said.
"Ill telegraph my address tomorrow morning
and l shall wait for your instructions"
Not till the last moment-not till | crossed
the threshold of the post office at Read;ng-an
hour after your husband left for London on
that fatal day-did l make up my mind that /
was going to do this hideous thing. Again and
again and again with agOnizing iteration l had
argued the question. l had told myself that
this horror could not be, that l, Ambrose Ar
den, was not the stuff of which murderers are
made-and again and again and yet again my
thoughts had gone back to the pit of holland
l had pictured you free to return my love. and
l had thought that such love must finally win
its reward. that in all intense passion there is a
force and a magnetism which can compel re-
sponsive passion, as fire will spread from one
burning fabric to another that was dark and
cold till the flame touched it.
When your husband left the gate that morn
ing | knew that l must act at once, or never. l
walked to tine station, caught the slow train
that left half an hour after the express by
which he travelled, and went to Reading,
where the wording Of my telegram was not
likely to arouse official curiosity. | had only
one fact to communicate-the hour of Hatrelrs
appointment with Florestan's solicitor. Morel
knew the locality of the bank, and it would be
for him to watch and find out the route taken
from Cockspur street to Lincoln's Inn.
Can you think what my feelings were that
night when you came over to tins house at 10
O'Clock to tell me that your husband had not
returned?
l knew then that one of the most hellish
schemes ever Matched had been carried out to
the bitter end, and that the murder had been
done. Did Judas feel as l did, | wonder. be-
fore he went and hanged himself? | did not
give myself up to that blind despair of remorse
which moved him who betrayed his Master. l
was baser, harder, viler than Judas-for |
stood that night with your hands clasped in
mine, pretending to comfort you. repeating
lying assurances that all would be well, while
my heart beat madly with the thought that
you were free, and that it would be my life's
dear labor to win your love.
And through those days of doubt and horror
l acted my part and hypocrisy came easy to
me. Anything was easy 30 long as l was with
you, consoling, advising, sustaining, you lean
ing upon me In your innocent unconsciousness
OF the deep Hood of passion below the stead
fast quietude of friendship which l had
schooled myself to maintain.
Throughout those days | was haunted by the
fear that the murderer would be caught. tried
and condemned, and that he would reveal nv
part IN his crime. l feared that which has now
come to pass, after a respite of nearly nine
years.
Then came the darkest period of all nv hateful
life, the period of your illness, when your life
hung IN the balance, when every day that
dawned might be your last on earth. / lived
through that time, Il time of fear and trem-
bling, which / shuddered oven to remember
years afterward.
And then, and then came my great reward,
the reward OF treachery and bloodshed, base
betrayal of a noble friend, "A long tissue of lies
and hypocrisies-then, after years of patience.
i'll which / had shrunk with an uncomfortable
hesitancy from putting my fate to the touch.
l had the price of my SIN. Your love, no!
That love tor which l had played my Judas
part was no nearer my winning after seven
years apprenticeship than it was while nv vic
tim lived. You gave me gratitude graNtude
to ME. who had biIghtcd your happy HE. You
rewarded me for the steadfastness of a friend
snip which Ill somewise linked my image with
that OF your murdered husband. Oh. how YOU
will abhor my memory, when you look back
upon your noble sacrifice, your generous pay
ment OF u fancied debt. Oh, how you will nate
yourself for having been cheated into giving
yourself to the man who plotted your husbands
death, who was to all lutents and purposes his
murderer.
Well, 1t is all over now. / grasped the dead
sea fruit and tasted the bitterness of it's asheu
core. L knew that you did not love mc-and |
was more miserable as your husband than
when l waited at your gate as Il sutton. There
were glimpses OF paradise then-gleams OF
hope shining on my crlme-darkened spirit
bu. afterward when / had constrained you to
be mine, when l had won all that fate could
give me, knew that your heart was with the
dead.
"Naught's had. al's spent,
When onr desire - got without content"
That was the motto of my life.
Then came n new horror-a haunting fear of
the dead, which l take to have been rather
physical than mental. Could /, disciple of
Shopenhauer and Hartmann. l who had grad
uated Ill the school OF exact science, and re-
duced every thought and feeling to its logical
sequence, admitting nothing which my mind
could not conceive-l to be haunted and
paralyzed by the dread of a shadow 10
tremble and turn cold on entering your dead
husbands study lest | should sec a pale image
OF the dead seated where the living man used
to sit to walk those familiar gardens with an
cver-present dread of n well-known footstep
sounding behind ME, or when no imaginary
sound pursued me, with an absolute certainty
that L was being followed by the noiseless
movements of a phantom l to become the
slave OF such fears-I who believe in nothing
beyond the limitations of our Understandings
who nave bounded all my speculations to the
real and the finite!
l knew from the first that these horrors had
their birth i'll shattered nerves and broken
health. l knew that l was as much Il sufferer
from physical causes as the vic tim of alcoholic
poisoning who sees devils and vermin about
his bed. Yet the thing WAS as real to me rs If
j mad been the hrmest believer in supernatural
influences, and L suffered as much from thess
laise appearances and imaginary sounds as the
DeIever could have suffered. That is one form
which retribution has taken: the other form
mas been my ever-present sense OF disappoint-
ment IN not having won your heart. Tortured
thus, life has been only a SYNONYM for suffer
ing, and l can look forward coldly and calmly
to tomorrow, when l shall have ceased to live.
how can 1 plead to you at the close of this
1uI and deliberate confession? How dare I
nope that you can have any feeling except
loathlng for the writer of these lines? For my
SELF, therefore. l will ask nothing. / ask only
| that Won Will he Kind m n,u eos .h. - ~