know nothing whateverabout me. I might be a base adventuress for aught you know. How is ityou trust me so?"
"Because--why, because I love you," I replied. She passed her handlightly through my hair, as she said, "In return I will always be trueto you, Frank. The day will come, sooner or later, when I can tell youthe story of my life, and much that will astonish you, perhaps."
"And you promise there shall be no clouds to mar our happiness?--cloudscaused by jealousy or distrust, I mean."
"No, never. You love me truly, I know. No man who did not would havemarried me with appearances so much against me as they were. I amworld-weary, tired of the wandering life I have led, and glad to be withyou here--always. I swear I will ever be good and faithful to you," anda light of great contentment shone in her eyes.
It was enough. I desired no more, for my cup of happiness was filled,and with all my heart I worshipped my wife as an angel of goodness andpurity. Ah! if we men could but remember that there is no beautybeneath the skin, that a soft tongue is not an outward sign of genuineaffection in that crisis in our lives when we take a woman for our wife,how many brief fools' paradises should we avoid, how many hours, nayyears of trouble and unhappiness, how much shame, how many brokenhearts!
Alas! my bliss was but short-lived, for very soon the glamour fell frommy eyes, and I made discoveries of a nature so horrible that I wouldgladly have given all I possessed as a ransom for my freedom.
Love is blind, 'tis true, but jealousy has a thousand eyes whichhideously distort that which is seen, at the same time eating into ourhearts like a corrosive acid, with results almost as dire. Yet whatgreater calamity could befall a man than to discover his wife's perfidy,and to know that while she smiles and caresses him she is conspiringwith others to bring about his death?
Fate decreed that such position, ere long, should be mine.
One morning, after we had been at Elveham several weeks, the post-bagcontained a letter addressed to Vera, which I handed to her. There wasnothing extraordinary in this, as she received many letters fromfriends, some of which bore the Russian stamp. But the postmark of thisparticular one was remarkable, inasmuch as it was from Oundle, a townbut a few miles distant, where I knew none of her acquaintances resided.
Hastily glancing at its superscription, she turned pale and becamevisibly agitated; then glancing at me, as if to assure herself I had notnoticed her anxiety, she broke the envelope and read the contents,afterwards thrusting it hurriedly into her pocket, evidently trying tohide it from my sight.
I am constrained to confess that in my then mood I attached but littleimportance to the matter, and not until subsequent events had occurreddid I remember it, though I remarked inwardly that during the remainderof the day she seemed nervously anxious, and about her face there was astrange, careworn expression, such as I had only once before seen--onthe night of our interview at Richmond.
In the evening, having some correspondence to attend to, I retired tothe library, a fine old room, filled from floor to ceiling with books,and containing many choice editions, for bibliophilism had been myfather's hobby, and he had rendered this portion of the house extremelypleasant and comfortable. A lover of books himself, I, as a literaryman, inherited his tastes, and now on my return home frequently spentseveral hours here daily, reading, and transacting that business whichnecessarily falls upon the owner of an estate.
It was pleasant enough in the daytime, with its windows opening upon theterrace, commanding an extensive view of the Dene, but at night, whenthe thick crimson curtains were drawn, the lamps lit, and the fireblazed cheerfully in the wide old-fashioned grate, casting itsinconstant light upon the stands of shining armour of departedBurgoynes, then it was one of the most snug and cosy rooms in the house.
We had dined, and I had been alone a couple of hours busily answeringseveral important letters, when Vera entered.
She did not speak, fearing perhaps to interrupt me, but with a lovingglance drew a lounge chair towards the fire, and sank into it. I wasstartled to notice how deathly pale she was, and asked whether she feltill.
"I have a very painful headache, dear," she replied in a tremulousvoice. "I think I will go to my room and rest. If I am undisturbed Ishall, perhaps, be better."
"Very well," I replied; "I will ring for Elise," for my wife's maid hadbeen retained, and was devoted to her mistress.
"No, no, do not trouble her; I will go myself. Don't disturb me, dear,and I shall be well to-morrow," she replied, as I rose to touch thebell.
"As you wish, dearest," I said, kissing her; "I hope sleep will refreshyou."
She rose and departed, but before she closed the door, added: "I shallnot come down again to-night. You will not feel dull?"
"No, dear," I replied. "Here's a heap of writing before me, and whileyou are getting rid of your headache I can get through it. Good-night."
She wished me _bon soir_ in a low, strained voice, and closed the door.
Till nearly eleven o'clock I continued writing, but feeling cramped, lita cigarette, and opening one of the French windows, stepped out into thenight.
It was dark. There was no sound beyond my own footsteps, but as I leftthe house the thought of the strange murders in London by some chancerecurred to me. Was it a presage of coming evil; of an approachingcrisis of my fate? Somehow I felt that it was, and with my thoughtsfixed upon the awful subject I wandered away over the gravelled paths,scarcely heeding the direction in which I was walking. Gradually,however, I became more composed; the surrounding peace, the soft air,and the thought of my wife's strong affection, had their soothing effectupon me.
Recalled to myself by the weird hoot of an owl, I looked round, and sawI had penetrated into the beech wood, and that I trod noiselessly uponthe mossy ground.
Pausing for a moment to take out a fresh cigarette, the sound of voices,close to where I stood, fell indistinctly upon my ears. It did not, andwould not, have struck me as curious, had I not suddenly observed twofigures, a man and a woman, who were standing together. I had nodesire, nor inclination, to witness the love-making of a couple ofrustics, yet what could I do? To move was to be discovered, so Iremained motionless, hidden behind the trunk of a huge tree.
After a few moments they resumed their conversation earnestly, and mycuriosity was aroused. I listened, but was unable to distinguish asingle word. Suddenly, however, the truth became evident. I knew theywere speaking in Russian!
I recognised the woman's voice as that of Vera!
Scarce daring to breathe, I stood rooted to the spot, but just as I hadmade the startling discovery the moon appeared from behind a bank ofcloud, shining down through the leafy branches, and revealing my wifeleaning upon the arm of her companion.
He was bending over her, with his face hidden from me. My first impulsewas to rush forward and surprise them; but reflecting a moment, I stoodeagerly watching. He was uttering tenderly-spoken words, and her headwas resting upon his shoulder, when suddenly he turned and glanced in mydirection.
The moonlight fell full upon his face, and in a moment I recognised itas one I had seen before!
It was a countenance every feature of which was impressed only toodeeply upon my memory--that of the man I had seen leaving the house inBedford Place!--the man I had vowed to deliver up to justice whenever heshould cross my path!
There was a rustling among the bracken, and the branches of the treesgently swaying, cast weird shadows around which a heated imaginationcould easily have transformed into the shapes and forms of supernaturalcreatures.
Again peeping from my place of concealment, I saw my wife and hercompanion were moving onward; indeed I was compelled to draw backquickly, for she passed so close that I could touch her.
Conversing in the same earnest tones they strolled slowly along to theedge of the wood; but I did not follow them: I had heard and seenenough.
Stunned and bewildered, no tears welled from my eyes, but, nevertheless,I began to bitterly repent the implicit trust I had place
d in Vera, andfirmly resolved not to rest until I could bring to justice the inhumanmonster who, not content with his horrible deeds, had ruined thathappiness that I foolishly believed would last always.
The shock was so great it prostrated me. The impulse to follow themnever suggested itself--fool that I was!
CHAPTER NINETEEN.
FALSE!
Utterly broken down at this manifestation of Vera's deception andfaithlessness, I wandered away through the grounds in an oppositedirection.
Those only who have experienced a suddenly overwhelming grief atdiscovering the perfidy of the person on whom their affection is setknow the intense regret, the anger, and the jealous hatred of the one bywhose instrumentality their idol has been shattered. If ever the spiritof murder enters a man's soul it is then.
I thought only of revenge.
Did I not know enough of this man who had blighted my wife's happinessto prove him a
Guilty Bonds Page 16
