The Aberystwith Observer

THE HIDDEN MARRIAGE. BY BEATRICE HERON-MAXWELL AND FLORENCE E. EASTWICK (Authors of "A Woman's Love," "The Queen Regent," etc.). Synopsis of Instalments 1 to 4-. -Evelyn Theei. ger, who is staying at Bridge End with Lord Surrey, makes the acquaintance of Mrs Ber- wick, the wife of a farmer, and is struck by her refined appearance and manner. Lord Surrey has recently married an American heiress for his second wife, and Thesiger is engaged to his daughter, Lady Susannah. IjSkIv Surrey warns Thesiger that he has a rival in Anthony Wey- bridge, (t distant cousin of the Surrey fa.mily. Evelyn is chosen as prospective candidate for South Loamshire. Evelyn again meets Mrs Berwick, and she t ills him the story of her life. She had been a foundling nnd earned her own Uvelihood in London. While living at the Fal- abridge Hotel her employer, Mrs Muller, "llOse nephew wished to marrv her, h'ad been murdered, and she had been arrested on sus- picion. Midler's evidence, however, had clear- ed her. On his way home Evelyn encounters Muller and they quarrel. In a. lonely house known1 an Whispers, Justin- Eardly lives alone. His only friend is Mrs Berwick, who visits him occasionally. Returning from one of these visits, she finds Muller at the -cottage. He tells her a reward is being offered for informa- tion concerning her. Mrs limine, one of the house party at Bridge End, makes it her busi- ness to solve the mystery surrounding Mrs Berwick, whom she connects with the Surrey family. While -at a fetpat Bridge End. Mrs Berwick is summoned to Whispers, where she finds Basil Muller bending over the prostrate form of Justin Eardly. Sinller escapes after mortally injuring his victim. Before dying, Jus- tin Eardly recognises. Lord Surrey. and start- les him with his- last words. He''tiso.requests that they will bury him as he is in his clothes. At the inqnt-r.it the doctor announces that Jus- tin Eardly was a. woman in male attire. CHAPTER VIII. (Continued). ThilisLnJumellt caused ta< .great sensation ;tmong&t the audience, -and it was -some mo- nie.ntisi before the -comunfoiion subsided suffi- ciently for the doctor to continue his evidence. It consisted mainly of a description, in tech- nical terms, of the injuries reeeivQd' by the per. ton known <■■; ,Justin Eardly." The immedi- ate cause of death w-as1 -pronounced to be the terrible injury to the chest which hod been completely flattened- by swn» hear; weight; passably by « man kneeling upoit it. Most of the ribs broken o-nd one -ci' them had pierced the lung. In any ease, the murdered woman would not -have lived mn-ny weeks, being in an #dv<u:i-ed stage of consumption. But the violence «o which she had been jacted had brought, nor litV to a, sudden Mid. He found that her timiat was- much swollen_ and there w 1 >.re dark bruises on i.t, «/ trmn i-ho pressure of strong fingers, There TUMV jmsrses also on the arms1 and. on the back <»! the boarl. In his opinion there could be no doubt that Justin I'rdlv had been cruelly done to -lentIs. The d'jr1111" sat: down, on < I thr benches-, aiul Rachel Berwick's- mint \i called, She ruse from a seat .by the wirdr w < it come to the table. She looked wevel and tired and the bruise 011 her face deep purple -against the pal- of her Asked to give an account of her discovery of the crime, she spoke very calmJy -and clearly, telling how she had hurried to "• Whispers" o;U- hearing, from Steve that the hound had .been poisoned and its master was ill and alone in the house. She recounted how she had entered the room by the window, holding the iron bar in her hands, and come upon Mul- ler. intending to strike hirn down: But he was too quick for me, -and just caught sight of me in time to swciwe. so that my blow came on the shoulder instead of on fii-s head as I intend- 'I. rl h ed. I had hoped to stun him. but he sprang up at me with his fist and dragged the bar from ni\- grasp. [ struggled, with, him, I am very strong and 1 was able to hold my own for some time, but at last he struck me in the face she pointed to the bruise on her face—and. then 1 must have lost consciousness. When I came to again, he was .gone. 1 found Mr Eard- ly -she paused in some confusion— I know no other -name—-Mr Eardly was insensible. I got some water and bathed his face, then my uus- band came tolcok for me. and we stayed here until the end." In answer to a. few questions, Rachel said that she knew nothing about Justin Eardly save that he lived at "Whispers," where she -had worked, for him. Before the dcetor arriv- ed he had recovered consciousness and then he had made .her promise that she would see be was buried just, as he lay there. She hid her face in her hands and sobbed, whereupon the coroner to id her that ne did not require her to remain any longer. What --he had told, them was quite sufficient. A passage was opened for her and her bus- hand through. the crowd, and Thesiger followed them out of the house and walked beside them down the -avenue. The interest which. Rachel had already arotis. ed in Thesigers mind was deepened by her con- nection with, this- fresh tragedy- In spite of the essentially practical nature of his profession, he was a- man of many theories and of these was that a sinister fate controls the lives of cer. tain people, bringing them continually into con- tact with the dark side of life. They might strive to escape by hiding themselves in the most secluded spot on earth, where the environ- ment would present nothing but (l pastoral sim- plicity. yet even there they could find no last- ing tranquiliiv'. Sooner or Inter they must be involved in some strange or violent social -cat- aclysm again. n 1 He foresaw this would be the case with Rachel Berwick. Her life..commenced under sad and unusual circumstances, was fatcd to be con- trolled by unliappv influences. Even now he knew her placid existence at the cottage wa-s menaced by a dork cloud. It was no larger than a man's btuid-or rather a woman that of Mrs. Bmine -but the't>loiul might^ expend it- self in ia deluge, -carrying all before it. He felt impelled to give her some wnrning of the ittid as he-walked with her wud her husband down the avenue, he was turn- jJia oyer inÏtis mind how he-could best approach th° subject. Thev spoke together of the extra- ordinary revelation made at the inquest oy Dr Eraser. ••Had. you ever the slightest suspicion as^ to Justin Eardly'.s disguise?" lie inquired of Kacnel and she assured him that sucn an Hlea. had never crossed her mind. "He seemed, to me only a nervous delicate man. embittered by dis- appointment anel shunning the society of other men. He 1 cannot accustom myself yet to say sdie—never confided in me. never revealed any- tbtn<r of hex past. Justin Eardly is nothing more than the hermit ol Whispers, to m\ mind—a solitary creature whom 1 pitied and. tried to befriend," While she was speaking, her husband drew her hand through his arm and kept her fingers ■clo&e-grasped" in his own big n-arul. His action conveyed io the man s mute sympathy and protection. They had come out now on the edge of the moor, and Thesiger stopped, as if to turn back. T "I wan I: to sav something to you beiore leave you here," he said, speaking slowly and -choosing his words, and I hope you will take it in good part, as it isa intended. I am almost a stranger to you and your husband. Mrs Ber- wick.^although a ~reafc deal that concerns both of you is known to me. I also know something about the law and its- intricacies -both its: limits and its far-reaching powers. Speaking as a, lawyer, I would. ivdvyou to miuncciin a strict reserve about prim to affairs, to everyone jvho may approach, you. Journalists and other people may come asking questions out of curios-ity. Tell them nothing; have nothing to do with any of 'hern." „ I understand w iiat vou mean, sir. Berwick answered. We've had a bit of trouble in the punt and we don't want it revived, but -as we [ have always kept ourselves to ourselves, Eocliel and me, f don't think we shall be botheredwith any "There is something worse than gossip; there is malice." Thesiger persisted, and Rachel, im- agining his meaning must apply to Basil Muller, said quickly: I should not think any weight would be attached to what a man like that might say. There is a warrant out against him, I was told to-day but so far they don't know what has become of him." "Well, if you take my advice, you will speak to no one on the subject," was Thesiger's final remark before lie turned back towards the house. Berwick and his- wife travelled -on in silence for some time. He was still holding the hand which he had drawn through his arm. Bay he said at last, very low—it was a pet name 118 only employed in moments of great emotion, I ought to go down on my knees to you and ask your pardon "You, Ben Why?" She saw that his- hand- some face was working with hardly controlled feeling. "I've wronged you, wife, in thought. It was- but for a few moments, but the wrong was there. That devil, Muller, put poison into my mind. He made me think that you were so keen for admiration that you could not resist whetting your vanity upon that poor thing up there'"—he pointed towards "Whispers." Mul- ler tried to make me believe that Justin Eardly cared for you -and I was jealous for a time- actually jealous of a crazy old woman hiding herself from the world I'm glad now, my dear, that you were kind to the poor creature. Very lonely she must have been and longing for the sympathy of a woman's heart, like yours. If's a. heart of gold, Ray, my darling, laand I'm not worthy of it." His eyes gleamed with a moisture which did no discredit to his own brave heart. He was a man of few words., but there was a wealth of warm feeling in his strong and simple nature. "We love each other, Ben. Love such as ours need: no forgiveness." She slid her arm round his neck and drew hTs face down to her, whispering, "I've nothing but you, Ben—noth- ing in the world but you, dear!" as she raised Z, her lips to his. CHAPTER IX. THE STORY OF A PHOTO- GRAPH. The tea-table had been placed in -a shady corner of the terrace, overlooking the tennis courts, fat. Bridge End, for although, the fine weather still lasted, the dew was heavy in .the late afternoon and Lady Surrey did not fancy sitting with her feet on the damp grass.. She was pouring out tei for a select -circle and amongst those who had lingered on, as her guests, after the fete, were half-a-dozen mem- bers1 of the Ziugari orchestra, Mrs Braine hav- iug stipulated that if she were to give her 'gipsy dance#* before Royalty, she must be accompanied by those who understood her methods. An 1111- exploited orchestra would not have been exactly conducive to her success, and as Lady Surrey felt, to a certain degree, responsible, she had been obliged, to put a good face on the matter and agree to the dancer's demands. Ross Trindor and Yernia Eos-sett were two- of the chosen, musicians. "They're tiresome bores," Mrs Braine had. conceded. Mr Trinder is al- ways declaiming on 'what everyone ought to know.' and as to poor Vernie, he's an absolute fc-ol, and can't and won't ever know anything. But still they .can both play the fiddle and they understand íti\.g time, so they won't put u;e out. That's the chief thing to be considered -under existing circumstances." Just at this moment, Ross Trinder was sip- ping sherrv-coloured China tea, with a slice oi lemon in it. Cream and sugar he abjured, pro- nouncing them to be fll1,p doodle. The apostle of euH nre. as he called himself, was inclined to be stout with. a ruddy complexion. He was par. t-ial to the flesh-pots of Egypt, but had a rooted dislike to bodily exertion. When the other men of the party went off for a long tramp, lie al- ways absconded to his own. room, on the pre- text -of doing some 'composing.' An inquisitive person once asked Lady Surrey" composing what?" "I don't know-unleGs he'-s composing hims-elf to sleep," was the answer. Now while he sipped his tea with slow enjoy- ment. he was giving forth his views- on the Whispers aS.a.ir, which was naturally a fruit- ful topic of conversation in the neighbourhood, "What I :-ay"—there was always a good deal of "I about the (lpostle- it" that crimes of this sort would never occur if people were pro- perlv educated. You can -only raise the stand- ard of morality by cultivating the intellect and the ta-ste of the people. If a love of the beauti- ful could be instilled into the lower classes, these acts of sordid -and degrading brutality would cease to be,cr. at all events-, common. All .violence against nature is hideous; it is contrary to the law of culture which exists only to enhance beauty and teach refinement." Violence is so vulgar Ella Delmain agreed. She spoke with a slight lisp, was pretty in a faded style, and had an exalted idea of her own charms-, as- the only daughter of old Sir John Delmain, whose property adjoined Bridge End. She played; the mandolin in a lady-like fashion, and on the strength of that accomplishment had joined the Zingaris. She was attracted by Ross Trinder's doctrine, which, although, rather involved in mysterious- phrases, was none the less fascinating to her on that account. Mrs Brains w-ns in one of her silent moods. She "had not taken any part hitherto- in the dis- cussion, but now she said coolly: "But is it so very certain that- the murderer did. belong to the lower classes?" He was not uneducated as Trinder to take for granted," Thesiger intervened, from e'1 0 where he sat on the edge of the .stone parapet. "I've seen t.his Muller, who is supposed to have done the deed. He's certainly violent 'by dis- position,. and—:)< Miss: Delmain suggests—dis. tinctly vulgar. c Isn't it very odd that lie has vanished, into thin air?" Lillah. asked. Perhaps he went by aeroplane," Eosset-t sug- gested. How silly you are Lady Surrey exclaimed. But the strangest part of all to me is- that no one seems to have fhe Ismnllest idea who this Justin Eardly really was or where she came from ?" "Is- there no clue?" Lillah Braine asked, look- ing directly across at Thesiger. "I have heard of none. Possibly something might come out when- the inquiry is resumed. Her bankers have been communicated with, but they know no more than we do, except that a depositor opened an account" with them in the name of Justin Eardly. I was "talking to the Inspector of police to-day; he told me he had hopes of finding out something from a woman who Kime there one day .and asked to see the dead person—believed she was a long-lost rela- tion and that sort of thing. But of course it proved a failure. The inquest closes to-morrow after th-nt I don't.suppose we shall hear much more about it." T. for one. will be real glad," Lady Surrey told then]. "It has- quite got on Surrey's nerves, and 1w\, worried about it dreadfully. I've never known him so -upset about anything. a t ig- San. dear! go and tell your father tea is ready and persuade him to -come out. He sits moping in his study. I. can't think what's the matter with him San had been just preparing to start another set at tennis-. She turned back -at her step- mother's request, dropping her racquet into one of the wicker-chairs. oil let me go. Lady Surrey," Lillah volun- teered." Lady' San will lose her game ,and the light will soon be gone." She -ran after Sen. and, taking her bv'the arm. turned her round Inwards the lawn. HI take Lady Surrey's message for you." The tennis-players returned to the lawn, and the tea-table was" left- deserted continued her way along the terrace, until, reaching an open window, she tapped: with her finger-tips on the pane, and passed in, with an ingratiatory, "May I come in?" Lord Surrey was sitting in- a low arm-chair, with his back to the light. Ose-nsibly he was reading, shut if anyone iiad been there to watch him for any length of time, they might have ob- served tiiAE lic, seldom turned a page of the work he was; holding. He looked up with an attempt at geniality: "Ah. Mrs- Brat-he -coming for io She -repeated the message as she crossed the room, and then sank on the low fender-stool near him, and, leaning her chin on her clasped hands, looked up into his face with an expres- sion. of deep sympathy. Her voice too vibrated with all unusual quality when she sp-oke again. J 'HI so sorry to see you like this, Lord Sur- rey you look ill—- and unhappy. I wish I could help you." She paused just long enough to give effect to her next words which were uttered very low. "Perhaps I can help you." He looked at her in surprise. straightening himself and beginning to expostulate; but she stopped him with a gesture. "Don't deny it. I know! yes—know better than anyone and can understand your position and sympathise with you. It has been a horrible position for you—cruel I have felt for you so much through it all but I did not like to*speak to you until now. -as I came through the win- dow, seeing you here alone, so desolate, I re- solved to say one kind word to cheer you "1 don't understand really, Mrs Braine." But again she made a sign of disbelief. Hang- ing at her side was one of those quaint old- fashioned silk bags, worked in beads,, such as; our great-grandmothers n-ed and which have be- come the dernier cri for well-dressed women. She drew from this an envelope, thin and dis- coloured with age. Caref ully extracting itt-il con- tents, she held the photograph out to him in silence. His hand trembled slightly as he took it. After examining it for some seconds, he said, in a constrained voice "May I ask how you obtained this portrait?" "Read what is written 011 the back." she itUl- swered, and his eyes took in the words "Uieh- ard—my Rachel's Father." "Those words explain why I have shewn it to you BOW. Listen You shall hear how it came into my possession, then you will nnderstaijd better. When I a little child, my father took me to Japan. My mother was deadand he had work to do there. We lived in a village -at some distance from Tokio. There were no other Europeans in the place, and no doctor of any sort. I was always a restless little morhal and, climbing up the verandah one day, I fell and in- jured.my spine. My father was afraid I should be crippled. He werit off to Tokio and brought back a doctor to see me. and a. hospital nurse to attend on me. The latter was a Scotch woman, about thirty 1 should think. Not pretty but very gentle and quiet. I took a great fancy to her. Nurse Dairy she was: called and she stayed on with us for some time after I had re- covered from my fall. Then suddenly she be- came very ill and my father had her carried away to the hospital in Tokio. She had caught the smallpox from some of the natives whom she had gone to nurse out of charity. I never saw her again. I heard .she died in the hospital and her few belongings were burnt. I believe. Quite lately, after my father's death in America, some of his Japanese curios were sent to me in Lon- don, with a quantity of other tilings that he had collected in his travels. I was examining a lacquered cabinet when I found a small tin box —rather flat .and long—in one of the drawers; I sat with it in my lap, wondering what it re- minded me of—then suddenly I remembered. I saw myself .a child again, lying on a- mattress in a queer little Japanese room, and Nurse Dairy sitting beside me writing. She lu,sed the tin box as a sort of desk and she kept some letters in it which she read over to herself very often when she thought I was- lying asleep. She used to cry over them sometimes and I won- dered what they could be about. And this tin box was hers, but how it came to be in the cabinet all those years. I don't know." Lord Surrey had remained silent and im- movable while she was telling her story, still holding the photograph in his hand. His face had tgrown pale but his eyes looked nt her very sternly and without any sign of flinching. When she paused he said interrogatively, "WeD?" She went on, her voice grown, somewhat hard- er. Well—I had the box opened out of cur- iosity, and. found that photograph." Still 1 do not see why you should think it would be of interest to me." "Because it is your photograph, Lord Sur- rey ? My photograph "He laughed sarcastically. I don't see the analogy exac.tly.U belonged to a nurse in Japan, you say-; under those con- ditions- it could be neither mine nor yours., Mrs iBraine." She flushed a little a.nd. ris,ing from her lowly position on the hearth, sat down opposite to him. "I did not steal it; if that is what you. mean., Lord Surrey. It came into my possession by chance and I recognised it as -a. photograph of yon, taken 110 doubt when you. were a: boy at: Eton. You see your name is. written on the back?" "I see the name of Richard certainly." And Ilachel! Oil. what is the use of quib- bling. I want to help you-to he your friend. Surely you don't want all the world to know this folly of your boyhood." Again he laughed, as if incredulously. Was it to defy her, she wondered, to make her think he despised both her offer of help or her power to injure him. Her dark eyes seemed to narrow like a panther's before it springs. Lord Surrey had risen now, -and stood on the hearth-rug, in his favourite attitude, with his hands- clasped behind his back. He still held the photograph. -His expression was contemptuous: as, well as angry. Kindly explain yourself, Mrs- Braine." "I will, since you are"so determined that I should be explicit. Nurse Dairy, the owner of that photograph, is the woman who lived and died here—-close to youtf home—at Whispers.' What makes you imagine such a—a prepos- terous thing? he asked, .and now she detected a ring of indecision—of 'something akin to alarm in his voice. "It is not imngination, it is -actual know- ledge." "Impossible! You .have only jumped to a conclusion. You cannot know for you never actually saw this person at 'Whispers. All, there you -are wrong!" she broke in. "I d'd see her—after she was dead, in her coffin. Poor goLil altered, indeed, but unmistakably the nurse who, when I was: a. child, tended me with such kindly devotion. I could not forget the face of the woman, who, for many nights and days, never left my side—who often sat there weeping far into the night, reading her letters. And I have read them too they sire the pitiful ending of a life's romance, so much I could gather. But I little thought that the writer would ever be known to me. Üh, you need not let that trouble you. Lord Surrey. I can keep a. secret better than most. people, and I slw11 not betray yours." He gave an exclamation, as if repelling her offer of secrecy. Why have you told me all this?" lie asked, after he had paced the room in moody silence for some time. I wanted to put you on your guard. What. I have learned by chance might come to the know- ledge of another person. There is someone to Whom this secret would be of great value—an unscrupulous arid dangerous person. Can you not guess:?" He shook his head, looking at her with start- led wretched eyes. Rachel!" she said very low. He repented the name, -as if mystified, and then she continued impatiently: "Rachel Ber- wick—the woman, who calls herself by that name, at all events-who, by some means, must ha.ve discovered the secret of Justin Eardly's life, and was- clever enough to make. capital out of it. Oh. if I know -anything of human nature, Mrs Berwick intends to"reap a splendid harvest out of this business, as no doubt she did out of the other horror that she was mixed up in." All that you are saying is. an enigma- to me, Mrs Braine," Lord Surrey said, passing his -hand across, his brow. "Mr," Berwick's last public appearance was in the dock—-under suspicion of a murder. Now she appears here, with, the same associates, and under almost similar circumstances. I tell you to be on your guard, Lord Surrey. If this sec- ret of your former acquaintance with Justin Eardly should leak out. what would be your position—how could you. face your wife and daughter?" Mrs- Braine, I must beg of you to be silent. This has gone far enough. I can hear no more c from you on the subject." Suddenly he seemed to have regained his dignity and self-possession. I What you suggest is untrue; the facte are not I as you suppose of that I can assure you most I positively. I think you will -give me credit for not telling a lie. And now, if you please, we will I speak no more of it. I believe your intention to be kind, but you are utterly mistaken. At the same time I may say that I shall be grateful if [ this matter does not go beyond you and me. Your silence will be a boon. It has been all very painful to me, and I do not feel equal now to any further conversation. I must ask you to leave me." "I would have you. believe that I have been actu- ated only by motives of friendship towards you and yours," she said, as she went to the window, Lady Surrey and your daughter have both treated me with the greatest kindness, and it is my wish to protect them from any annoyance and trouble. That and my sympathy for the sorrow weighing on your mind prompted me to tell you wflat I knew. I could not bear to be here, under your roof and taking your hospitali- ty, and, knowing the cause of our trouble, yet saying nothing." She gave a little sob and held out a hand to him. It was a magnificent piece of acting. Lord Surrey just pressed the tips of the fingers, as he bowed -over the extended hand. Then Mrs Braine passed swiftly on to the ter- race. Half way along it she stood still. She had suddenly recollected that Lord Surrey had not returned the incriminating photograph. She bit her lip with vexation. It was awkward to return after her sentimental departure. Never- theless she did go back, with noiseless steps, and I looked into the room. It was empty. Lord Surrey was no longer there. (To be Continued).