Short Stories. Kyrle Bellew
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Название: Short Stories
Автор: Kyrle Bellew
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066442866
isbn:
"One day a telegram came, saying I was to direct to her in her maiden name, to the Post Office.
It seemed strange. But I thought of her engagement, and did it.
"Did I say she'd a sister? Well, she had. One day the sister came to me and asked for eight pounds. Wouldn't tell me what for. I hadn't got it by me; but I found it soon, and gave it her. Next day I heard what it was for. My wife had come down suddenly from Sydney, and wanted the money for expenses.
"Of course I went off directly to see her, but they said she was too ill, too tired from the sea passage, to be disturbed from bed. So I took a ring off my hand, sent it up to her with my love, and left.
"Two days after I did see her. She wrote and asked me to meet her and her mother, and take them out in the gardens.
"I went; but the mother I didn't see. She said she'd follow.
"It was dusk, and the moon was getting up—almost full. I'll remember that night, Harry, as long as I live. We met. She looked pretty, but there was something so cold—so—-well, I don't know what about her—that I felt a kind of chill go through me when she spoke. I might have been a friend only.
"The evening set in. It was bright moonlight. We walked on together, not talking much—for married people, who had hardly met.
"We were in the Fitzroy gardens. Fine gardens, too. I could show you the foot of earth we stood on. There were trees all round. It was so quiet, and the moonlight stole through the branches, and threw long shadows over the grass. There was no wind; nothing stirring, nothing near us.
"Harry, did you ever feel it was your duty to love a woman?
"She had never said a kind word to me since we were married; but now she turned in the moonlight and stopped.
"There was a pair of great, big beautiful eyes looking into mine, a pair of little white arms flung around my neck, and in another minute her head fell upon my shoulder, and she burst out crying.
"I'm not stone, Harry. The girl was my wife. I lifted up her head, and kissed her.
"If ever a woman spoke words that a man could construe into love she spoke them then.
"I felt then—she was my wife—it was my duty to love her. I think for the next five minutes I did care about her, and while we stood there, a future I had never thought of opened up—and I was happy.
"She looked so pale, so soft, so womanly, in the moonlight, dressed in light muslin stuff—scarcely looking real—just a little thing like a bunch of flowers for a bonnet, and a thin lace shawl round her, which had fallen upon her waist and hung there.
"Then she kissed me a hundred times—great, long, lingering kisses. Asked me, did I love her?—would I swear to love her always?—never leave her? Could I forgive her faults?—she would be so true to me—would love—did love me with all her heart and soul.
"Harry, did you ever think a woman loved you? It's rough, old man—cursed rough to find out you were wrong.
"Then she talked long and kindly to me; and at last said, with tears in those big, dark eyes, and in her pretty little broken English:
"'Could you forgive anything in me—anything I had kept from you?'
"She'd an eager, pained look in her face, and she hardly breathed. I thought it was a foolish girl's question. Answered, 'Yes.'
"There was a sound of footsteps on the gravel-path, and the shrill laughter of a little child.
"'Tiens—Bebe—tiens.'"
It was her mother's voice!
"For a moment the girl seemed pondering—looking into the future or the past—I knew not which. But suddenly she staggered back, and clasping her hands over her face, cried out—'Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!'
"It was the Past!!!
"Harry, I'd sooner die a hundred deaths than feel again the pain that shot through my heart just then.
"She fell and fainted on the grass.
"I saw it all. I think there's murder in every man's soul on earth. I knelt over her for a moment. It was in mine then, I knew.
"The horrid, damning, bitter truth, was plain. I thought my head would burst; blood spurted from my mouth and nose. I felt a stifling, suffocating, choking, in my throat; and, with a cry that would come out, I cursed her there and then. I know no more."
His voice got very low and quiet; and he paused a long painful pause—thinking; then he spoke.
"I think they came and found me there. I turned to look for her, but she was gone.
"The moon was still bright, and beautiful. There was no wind and everything was still. I thought I'd waked up from a dream; but, as I passed my hand across my eyes, I felt there was something on it that wasn't there before.
"It was a thin gold, wedding ring. It's there still, Harry, and she's—ah! God—"
We'd left a shovel behind at the claim that evening. I went to fetch it, and as I crossed the creek, and stumbled through the ferns, a stifled heavy sob came down to me from where the hut lay in the quiet moonlight of that Christmas Eve.
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