A Double Knot Part 29

"Gertrude," she whispered to her, "he never loved me!"

"Oh, Ren dear, think what you are saying!"

"I do think, dear, and I say it once more. He never loved me."

"But, Renee, you have been kind and loving to him."

"Yes, as tender as a woman could be to the man she had sworn to love; but he does not care for me, and I am haunted."

"Haunted, Renee?"

"Yes; hus.h.!.+ Here is Major Malpas."

Gertrude glanced in the direction taken by her sister's eyes, and her heart seemed to be compressed as by a cold hand, as she turned indignantly to her sister.

"Renee!" she said, in a horrified whisper, "oh, do not say you care for him still!"

"Gertrude!" cried Renee, catching her hand, "how dare you say that! I hate--I detest him! I thought him a gentleman once, and I did love him; but that was over when I married Frank, and since then he has haunted me; he follows me everywhere, and Frank makes him his constant companion, and he leads him away."

"Oh, this is dreadful!"

"Dreadful!" cried Renee, "I feel at times that I cannot bear it. Come away: he has seen us, and is coming here."

"Is--is that Mr Huish?" whispered Gertrude, gazing in another direction.

"Yes. Who is the dark lady on his arm?"

"I do not know," said Gertrude quietly. "Some friend, perhaps; but, look, is not that Frank?"

She drew her sister's attention towards a phaeton in which Frank Morrison was driving a handsome-looking woman dressed in the height of fas.h.i.+on; and directly Renee saw him plainly the Major came up.

"What a delightful meeting, Miss Millet!" he said. "Mrs Morrison, I hope I shall not be _de trop_?"

"My husband's friends have too great a claim on me," said Renee quietly, as she left her seat and moved in the direction of her own home; but she kept glancing in the direction taken by the phaeton.

It was cleverly-managed, and as if Malpas knew exactly when the carriage would next come by, timing his place so well that the sisters were close to the railings as the das.h.i.+ng pair scattered some of the earth over the young wife's dress.

"Who is that with Frank Morrison, Major Malpas?" said Gertrude quickly.

"I beg your pardon?" he said.

"That fas.h.i.+onably-dressed lady in my brother-in-law's phaeton. There they go."

"Indeed!" said the Major. "I was not looking. Are you sure it was he?"

"Certain," replied Gertrude.

"My dear Mrs Morrison, is anything the matter?" cried the Major, with a voice full of sympathy.

"No, nothing," said the young wife, who was now deadly pale. "May I ask you--to leave us?"

"Yes," he said earnestly; "but I shall not go. Pray take my arm. Miss Millet, your sister is ill. I fear you have been imprudent and have taxed her strength. I must see her safely home, or I could not face Morrison again."

"He haunts me!" thought Gertrude to herself, as she recalled her sister's words, and found that the Major persisted in walking by her side till they reached Chesham Place, where, murmuring his satisfaction that Renee seemed better, he left the sisters in the hall.

"All things come to the man who waits," he muttered to himself, as he went off smiling.

"Renee," said Gertrude, as soon as they were alone, "have you ever encouraged him in any way since your marriage? How is it he seems to have such a hold upon you?"

"I do not know--I cannot tell," said Renee wearily, as, with brow contracted, she sat thinking of the scene in the Park. "But do not mention him--do not think of him, Gertrude dear; he is as nothing in face of this new misery."

"New misery?" said Gertrude innocently.

"Yes," cried Renee pa.s.sionately; "do you not see? Oh, Frank, Frank!"

she moaned, "why do you treat me so?"

Gertrude, upon whom all this came like a revelation, strove to comfort her, and to point out that her fears might be mere exaggerations, but her sister turned sharply.

"You do not understand these things, Gertrude," she said. "He does not love me as he should, and, knowing this, Major Malpas has never ceased to try and tempt him away from me--to the clubs--to gambling parties, from which he comes home hot and feverish; and now it seems that worse is to follow. Oh, mother, mother! you have secured me an establishment which I would gladly change for the humblest cottage, if it contained my husband's faithful love."

Gertrude's heart beat fast at these words, and a faltering purpose became strengthened.

"But, Ren darling," she whispered; "have you spoken to him and tried to win him from such a.s.sociations? Frank is so good at heart."

"Yes," sighed Renee; "but so weak and easily led away. Spoken to him, Gertrude? No, dear. As his wife, I have felt that I must ignore such things. I would not know that he visited such places--that he gambled-- that he returned home excited. I have put all such thoughts aside, and met him always with the same smile of welcome, when my heart has been well-nigh broken."

"My poor sister!" whispered Gertrude, drawing her head to her breast and thinking of the husband and establishment that her mother had arranged for her to possess.

"But this I feel that I cannot bear," cried Renee impetuously. "It is too great an outrage!"

"Oh, Ren, Ren!" whispered Gertrude, "do not judge him too rashly; wait and see--it may be all a mistake."

"Mistake!" said Renee bitterly; "did you not see him driving that woman out? Did you not see her occupying the place that should be mine?"

"Yes--yes," faltered Gertrude; "but still there may be some explanation."

"Yes," said Renee at last, as she dried her tears and sat up, looking very cold and stern; "there may be, and we will wait and see. At all events, I will not say one single harsh word."

Gertrude left her at last quite calm and composed, the brougham being ordered for her use, and she sat back thinking of John Huish with the dark lady; but only to smile, for no jealous fancy troubled her breast.

End of Volume One.

Volume 2, Chapter I. The Story--Years Ago--(Continued).

MR MONTAIGNE ESTABLISHES A BOND OF SYMPATHY.

Mr Paul Montaigne was one of those quiet, bland gentlemen who, apparently without an effort, seemed to know everything that went on in his immediate neighbourhood. He never asked questions, but waited patiently, and the result was that, drawn, perhaps, by his quiet, persuasive way, people told him all he wanted to know.

Somehow, he had the knack of winning the confidence of women, and if he had been a confessor his would have been an easy task.