she smiles she laughs! she talks of this and that--
to all appearances a very woman.
ah! but that phrase bears deep interpretation--
"a very woman" is a treacherous thing;
her smile's a lie--a lie to hide the truth,
for when the time is ripe for all her schemes
"a very woman" slips her smiling mask,
and lo! behold, a look which means, "you die."
one who has been in strange lands, and ventured his life in far countries, is by no means anxious to court again the dangers he has so happily escaped. the traveller, telling his tales by his lately gained fireside, shudders as he remembers the perils he has dared, the risks he has encountered, and is thankful for his present safety, so thankful indeed that he is unwilling to place his life for the second time at the disposal of chance.
it was somewhat after this fashion that mrs. belswin viewed her present security in contrast to her past jeopardy. she had been a free-lance, and adventuress, an unprotected woman at the mercy of the world, so hard and pitiless to such unfortunates; but now she had found a home, a refuge, a daughter's love, a bright oasis in the desert of affliction, and she dreaded to be driven out of this peaceful paradise, which held all that made her life worth having, into a stormy world once more. through perils more deadly than those of savage lands, through storms more terrible than those of the ocean, she had passed into a haven of tranquillity; but now that she was tasting of the pleasures of hope and repose, it seemed as though she would once more be driven forth to battle with her fellow-creatures.
her quondam husband held her fate in his hand. he had right and might on his side, and she knew that she could expect no mercy from one whom she had so deeply wronged. had the positions been reversed she felt that she would not have scrupled to enforce the powers she possessed, and, therefore, never for a moment dreamed that her husband would act otherwise. all she knew was that she was now in paradise, that she enjoyed her daughter's affection, ignorant as that daughter was of the mother's identity, and that the husband of her youth, and the father of her dearly-loved child would expel her from this hardly won paradise as soon as he discovered her therein.
this being the case, she did not waste time in asking for a mercy not likely to be granted, but set herself to work to find out some means of retaining her position in defiance of her husband's enmity and hatred. after her conversation with mrs. valpy, she saw that rupert pethram had glossed over the affair of the divorce in order to avoid all suspicion of scandal against himself and the mother of his child, for he was unwilling that the child should suffer for the sin of her parent. this was certainly a point in her favour, as by threatening to denounce the whole affair if she was not allowed to retain her position she could force him to acquiesce in her demand, in order to avoid scandal.
but then if he, though keeping the terrible affair secret from the outside world, told kaituna all about her mother's disgrace, thus destroying the love which the girl had for the memory of one whom she thought was dead--it would be too terrible, as she could urge nothing in extenuation of her sin, and would be forced to blush before her own child. no, nothing could be done in that way. should she throw herself on the mercy of the man she had wronged? alas! she knew his stern nature well enough to be aware of the hopeless folly of such an attempt. looking at the whole affair in whatever way that suggested itself to her fertile brain, she saw no means of retaining her position, her child or her newly-found respectability, except by enlisting the sympathy of ferrari and----
but it was too terrible. it was a crime. guilty as she was, to do this would render her still more guilty. even if she succeeded in getting her husband out of the way, and it was not discovered by the law, there was still ferrari to be reckoned with. it would give him a strong hold over her, which he would use to force her into marriage, and then she would be still separated from her child, so that the crime she contemplated would be useless.
to see this woman raging up and down her bedroom was a pitiful sight. flinging herself on her knees she would pray to god to soften the heart of her husband, then, realising how futile was the hope, she would start to her feet and think again of the crime she contemplated committing with the assistance of her italian lover. she raged, she wept, she sighed, she implored. her mood changed with every tick of the clock; from hope she fell into despair; from despair she changed once more to hope--tears imprecations, prayers, threats, she tried them all in their turn, and the result was always the same--absolute failure. she was dashing herself in vain against an adamantine wall, for in her calmer moments she saw how helpless she was against the position held by her husband--a position approved of by law, approved of by the world. she could do nothing, and she knew it.
still, ferrari!
yes, she would go up and see him, for perhaps he could solve the riddle which thus perplexed her so terribly. he would demand his price, she knew him well enough for that. well, she would pay it in order to still retain possession of her child. let her accomplish her present desire and the future would take care of itself. so, mrs. belswin, summoning all her philosophy to her aid, composed her features, and told kaituna that she was going up to london on business.
"but papa will be here next week," said the girl in dismay.
"yes; i'm sorry to go at such a time, dear," replied mrs. belswin, with an immovable countenance, "but it is a very important matter that takes me away."
"you will be back again soon?"
"in a fortnight at the least."
"oh, i'm glad of that," said kaituna, with a flush; "you know i want you to help me gain papa's consent to my marriage with archie."
mrs. belswin smiled bitterly as she kissed her daughter, knowing how weak was the reed upon which the girl leaned. she ask rupert pethram to consent to the marriage--she dare to demand a favour of the man she had wronged for the child she had forsaken! she almost laughed as she thought of the terrible irony of the situation, but, restraining herself with her usual self-command, bade the girl hope for the best.
"your father must like mr. maxwell, he is such a charming young fellow," she said encouragingly, "and as you love him so dearly, sir rupert, for the sake of your happiness, may perhaps overlook his want of money."
"but you will speak to papa, mrs. belswin?"
"yes; if i see your father on my return i will certainly speak to him."
"how strangely you talk," said kaituna, rather puzzled; "if you come back in a fortnight you will be sure to see papa."
"of course, dear! of course. i was only thinking that some unforeseen accident----"
"oh, no, no!"
"kaituna, you love your father very dearly."
"very, very dearly. he is all i have in the world."
it required all mrs. belswin's self-restraint to prevent her then and there throwing herself into the girl's arms and telling her all. such a course, however, would have been worse than madness, so she was forced to crush down her maternal feelings.
after this interview with kaituna, she departed for london--departed for the possible commission of a crime, and as the carriage left thornstream she looked back with a sigh to the girl standing on the terrace.
"perhaps i shall never see her again," she said, with a groan, throwing herself back in her seat. "but no; that will never happen; even if rupert does turn me out of the house he will not tell kaituna anything to destroy her belief in her mother, so i shall some day meet her with her husband."
her lips curled as she said this, knowing well that sir rupert would never give his consent to the marriage, and then she clenched her hands with a frown.
"he must consent to the marriage--kaituna's heart is set on it. he can destroy my happiness, but i'll kill him before he destroys that of my child."
and with this firm determination she left her husband's house--the house in which she should have reigned a happy mistress and mother, and the house into which she had crept like a disguised thief, the house which she, in the mad instinct of her savage nature, intended to deprive of its master.
while waiting on the railway platform for the london train, she saw samson belk.
the relations between these two were peculiar. ever since he had seen her at his mother's cottage, belk had followed her everywhere like her shadow, much to mrs. belswin's astonishment, for, candid in all things to herself, she could not conceive how a handsome young man could leave younger women for one verging on middle age. yet such was the case. this bucolic man had fallen passionately in love, and adored her with all the sullen ardour of his obstinate nature. he was slow-witted, dull-headed, and it took a long time for an idea to penetrate into his brain, but once the idea was there, nothing could get it out again. this woman, so different from all he had known, who spoke in a commanding way, who flashed her eyes fiercely on all, as if they were her slaves, had, without a word, without a sign, brought to his knees this uncultured man, who knew nothing of the deference due to the sex, and whose only attributes were great physical strength and a handsome exterior. formerly, owing to these advantages, he had gained admiration from all women, and in return had treated them with brutal indifference, or scarcely veiled contempt; but now the positions were reversed, and he was the abject slave of this imperious queen, who looked down at him with disdain. it was a case of samson like wax in the hands of delilah--of hercules subjugated by omphale; and samson belk, with all his virile strength, his handsome face, his stalwart figure, was crouching like a dog at the feet of mrs. belswin.
he looked somewhat haggard as he came towards her and took off his hat, mrs. belswin nodding coldly to him in return.
"well, mr. belk," she said, indifferently, "what are you doing here?"
"i heard you were going to town, madam."
"yes? how can that possibly concern you?" belk stood twisting his hat round and round in a sheepish manner.
"i thought i might be of service to you," he stammered, looking at her portmanteau.
"thank you, but there is no need. the porters will attend to all that," replied the lady, graciously. "but you don't look very well, mr. belk. i suppose you've been drinking."
candour was mrs. belswin's strong point, and looking at belk as an inferior animal, she treated him accordingly, but he seemed in nowise displeased at her bluntness.
"no; i haven't been drinking, madam."
"that's just as well. you know sir rupert returns next week, and if he found you to be dissipated, he'd dismiss you on the spot."
"would he?" said belk, sullenly. "let him if he likes. you seem to know sir rupert, madam."
"i? no; but i have heard about him."
"he's a hard man, what i've seen of him."
mrs. belswin was not going to discuss this subject with a servant like belk, so she turned indifferently away as the train came into the station, and left him standing there, looking in sullen admiration at her graceful form in the dark garments she now affected.
when she was safely installed in a first-class carriage, her rustic admirer, who had seen personally after her luggage, appeared at the window with some newspapers.
"you'll want them to read, madam," he said awkwardly, as she thanked him. "i hope you'll have a pleasant journey."
"thank you, mr. belk, i hope i shall."
"you'll be coming back soon i hope?"
he blurted out this question with a deep flush, and mrs. belswin stared at him with undisguised astonishment she could not understand the reason of this man's deference, for she judged it impossible that he could be so deeply in love with her as all his actions seemed to denote. good-natured, however, when not crossed in any way, she replied politely, as the train moved off--
"i shall return in a fortnight."
"if you don't," muttered belk, as the long line of carriages disappeared, "i'll follow you up to london."
"good heavens!" said mrs. belswin, throwing herself back in her seat, "what on earth can the man see in me to admire? i'm not a vain woman. i never was a vain woman, and why that handsome young fellow should leave youth to run after age is more than i can understand. it's flattering; very much so; but," continued the lady, struck by a sudden thought, "if ferrari met my new admirer, i'm afraid there would be trouble."
she laughed at the idea, and taking up the telegraph began to read, but suddenly laid it down with a nervous start.
"ferrari loves me! belk loves me! i love neither, but only my child. rupert stands between me and my happiness. which of these men will remove him out of my path? ferrari--a subtle italian, belk--a brutal saxon. humph! the fox and the lion over again--craft and strength! i can depend on them both, and rupert----"
she struck her hands together with a triumphant laugh.
"rupert pethram, you are marching blindfolded into a trap."
