Chapter 79861999

See chapter in newspaper

Chapter NumberXXV
Chapter Title
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article79861999
Full Date1913-08-23
Page Number7
Corrections0
Word Count1938
IllustratedN
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleThe Daily News (Perth, WA : 1882 - 1950)
Trove TitleMoney Or Wife ?
article text

[?]

Money or Wife ? — » — CHAPTER XXV.

- From Lady Ellen's house Julian -went , Ltraight, to the lawyers in Lincoln's linn,'' He Uirew a bombshell Into1 their taidst; ' 'I— I want everything toibe stopped,' )ho said. 'I shall put myself into com ?jnunicatlon with Mrs. Bryant. This ?-?;. 'thing cannot go on, Let me have your j j«costs as soon as possible. Chaisgo what (you -like,' lio added impatiently; 'that Wlnnon'^ iv\n 4- i nit 'M ' ?

Ho went away hurriedly, careless of '*\yhat was iboing thought or said about iflilmV and he wont direct to his house. There he gavo Stephens orders to Ibpen certain of tho rooms and to fetch Jhls things away from tho hotel. 'I may be going abroad for a long time,' ho sapd; 'but I shall stay hero ifor the next two or threo days.' When iho was alone ho sat down and (wrote a long letter to Mr. Pleydell, in Srhlch he Informed the lawyers that lie Oiad qulto abruptly chdnged his ar-, irartgements. 'Of course,' he wrote, 'I don't know .Vhat my wife- may choose to do; but, las far as I am concerned, I would llko *iher to understand that I have no do fclre for ray freedom. I can't give you ! any explanation as to how this lias tome about. I only want you to accept this as % fact. Thero is another fact jthat you will have to 'accept;, and that S's that if my wife will only come back *o me, I will gkdly give up all that I {now possess. I don't suppose sho will too this. I don't suppose she will have /anything to say to me; but I am going Xo her, and I am going to try and get :lher back. Once wo aro together, I 'suppose you will 'know just exactly ?how to aet.= Presumably this money /and aJJ this property which I now hold, 'will 'go to those relations who have al ;ways looked upon me as a pur,per:anfl Bn adventurer.' ' ' ' He ' feavo orders that this letter (Rliould be sent iby hand, and then he talked througlj iho house, stocked

?with ibeautiful things, ana suu en ?empty and so cold, with ft feeling of excitement upon him like a Bchoolboy has when tUo holidays aro In view. jt was dusk when ho left tho house fend started to walk to that unfashion able part whore Enid lived. 'Ho sen*.' her no warning. He was afraid to bo Refused. The way wag Song, and hia indis position of tho day before had left him loss stronger thun usual. But he would not drive. From this hour lie started his llfo of abnegation. He would say pood-byo to all iluxury, and all those things which had tempted him and of ?which he ha-* -own so tired. Ho only ' remembered that Enid was ftt the end vC tho journey, Enid, who toad triumph ed over all. He only realised that there could be nothing, for 'him in Hie if Iris wife refused to come back to him. As he entered the street and1 walked towards' the 'house where she lived, someone come in the opposite direction and on the doorstop they met. It was iEnid herself! . She gave a little gasp and ''half stag gered as she recognised him; then she mastered herself. . ' ' Why—why have you. come here?' «he asked. .'Is there something more ? j-ou want raft to do?' He noticed 'how thin she had grown: but he saw, too how sweet she wasfi how much more lovely even than her memory! He half stretched .out his hand to her, and then let if fall to his side. ' 'There is something I have to say

«to you,' he said. 'Will you let me ?come in?' 'I have only one room,' Enid answer . ed. 'It is ou the third floor. The stairs are very steep.' She put the key into the door and opened it. 'If you think it necessary that you must speak to me,' she said, 'please follow.' He obeyed her without a word, and then walker in silence after her up the - stairs. 1 At the door of her room, Enid turu« ed— ? . 'One minute, please,' she said. . She left him standing on the landing, und went Into the room, closing tlia

door a«er Tier. Her 'Breath was com ing1 almost painfully from her Upa. Klic was dreadfully agitated. There was a cold .perspiration on 'her 'brow, Slic wondered vaguely if she would have strength to go through an inter-, view with him. . - A girl was .sitting beside the bp.sln et'te; Sho got up as ' she . saw 'her mistress, 'He is sleeping .beautifully,' she said. 'Hasn't moved for an /hour.' 'I 'have to speak to someone on busi ness, Bessie. You can come 'back when 1 ring.'! - - Tho girl w«nt away,' looking foal! curiously at Julian as she passed out; and then Enid opened the door. ? ? 'Come in, please,' she said. _ ' She had tossed off her fur cap an3, had slipped out of 'her shabby coat; as

he camo into thc^oom the man pressed one hand to his eyes. He felt so 'ashamed to look at her. : ' 'Now tell me what you fcavo to say,' said (Enid. He lef his hand fall, but. W» eyes were closed still, and' Jig leaned 'naif . unconsciously against tho door; 'I want you to come back to me,' he said;s and Enid answered him with passion-1 ? .' . - 'You are mad! You 'have come hero to Insult me, to lmrt me, and to make my life liarder than it Is'; and lie answered) her hoarsely— 'I want you to come ibaok. I have (been mad; but now I am sane, I love you— I love yon— I can't live without you!' - Before she had realised what he was doing, ho had fallen on his iknees, end he had caugftt her hand in -both of'Hila., '\Enid, for God's sako,' he said, 'don't send me away.' . ©he was trembling in every limb. There was a .burning pain in her throat, and her eyes were blinded with tears. 'You have '.been too long in com ing,' she sold.' 'I don't 'believe' In your love! There is something behind tills, some trick, ^something— which moans— great, things to you— and 86 you iplay your 'part.' 'Julian Bryant got up and stood look - ttig at i&r, ' 'As God ia afeovo us,? he said, '1 am tplllng you the truth, ? I want nothing but you— you—and work. Kvorythliiig

IS URiBuus io mo— iviiuuui juu. .- . Enid looked at him and then. looked away. 1-here was a slight movement in the little cot; instinctively the mother In her responded to that. She moved across tho room and stood beside her child. 'Pleaap don't speak too loudly,1 she said. \ Julian stared1 at her; then a great cry broiko from- his lips. -Ho took two strides and swept the white curtain dn one eidoi ' 4'0h! my G^d!' he said. MTht-rt- is a child, and I never, know! A child— my child! Our child; and you 'have 'been in want, whilst I — r' He could not finish this speech, but' staggered to 'the chair close toy, and falling into it he ?burdt^into tears. Enid stood with trembling lips; then she knelt beside him. V ; 'Don't!' she said. 'Oh, don't Julian. You break my heart.' ' He caught her to him and he kissed her. ? . '-,-. 'tVhy did you go away?1? he said. 'Why did you leave me? It was ci'iue'l.' 'I went because I loved you, because I knew that you were having a ter rible fight. I wanted you to have money and ease of mind. I knew that you would never get them through me or with me.' 'It was cruel!' he repeated; but he kissed her with passion, and he held her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. 'But I have come 'back,' he cried exultantly. 'You are not golnfi lo drive me away. You are not going to leuvo me again. Enid, 1 huve said good-bye to the money, and all that money means. You are all I wnnt— and my boy. Oh, dearest, why did you not let me know what you have suf fered. I see it in your fuco. You have grown so thin. You aro so beautiful, but you are so thin— you have had so much sorrow. Enid, you aro not going to send -me away.' l 'Oh, we mustn't decide anything in a hurry,' Enid said brokenly. ''Think —think how difficult it will be for you, much worse now than in the old days, because you have had so much!' 'Don't loi us think about ttio money,' ?ho answered her, 'only ourselves, wo two, we three. There Is going to bo

money: in another, direction. I'll j tell you all a-btu that' later.' / ? He was thinking of Bill Ketch and his invention. * 'Now all I want to do Is to hold you in my arms, to kiss, you, to hear you say, ?'Julian, I forgive you. I am glad to have you back.' - ;?? 'How can I say that?' Enid whis pered, 'if I 'know that all my sacrifice Is in vain; that I rob you of every thing. Have you forgotten 'What we suffered together, when you tried to get work,' 'I am not afraid of that kind of siifCerln'g,' Julian ' answered. 'What frightens me is loneliness,' 'heartache, remorse. Dp you think I have had one really happy hour since you left me? Do you know why 1 did not find you— It was because I was so ill that I nearly died.' , ? Enid .gave a little cry, and held him more closely to her. 'Yes, I was very 111; so ill that I did not know anything that was hap pening, and when I camo back to con sciousness it was to find that many weeks had gone, that you had dis appeared, and that I was a rioh man! It was not of my own free will that 1 took that money, En!d. I did not want It— I fought against it foi* you, to give it to you— yes, but to take it

tor myself, no; and y-u must 'have thought suoh hard things of mo— you must have said to yourself as time went by, 'How soon ihe has forgotten.' Oh, my wife! It was a' great -mistake. 1 know that you did It from the best the sweetest, and tho .purest of reasonsi but It was a groat mistake, Wo have lost a year of our lives together. We can never put back that year;''but,' he added, with a ring in his voice which spoke, of strength and courage, 'wo are going to have many other years— we. three, Enid. -3od blesB you! Stretch oiit yoiir arms and take mo back,' ' Slowly she obeyed him, and when they were dose to one another, ho said— , . ' . V , . \ _ ; 'Now tell me that you love me, 'love; mo just aa you used to /love— me— and: forgive me.' ;, 'I love you,' said Enid, 'I love you better than I used to/ There is no1 question of forgiveness, because I— lovo vou!' i ,