A STORY OF THE PAST
Miss Carr, or Miss Orchard, or Mrs. Paslow--Beatrice thought of her
by all these three names--smiled quietly when her husband made the
confession, and sank gracefully into the seat he had vacated. She
was certainly a handsome woman, and if not entirely a lady, was an
extremely good imitation of the same. Vivian still stood as in a dream,
staring at the wife he had believed to be dead and buried, and Beatrice
stared alternately at him and at the strange woman. A silence ensued,
for each of the three was thinking hard. Beatrice was the first to
break silence.
"Will you explain?" she asked Vivian quietly.
"I think," he answered in a harsh, dry tone, "that my wife had better
explain. I have the certificate of her death, and----"
"And you can consider it so much waste-paper. The woman who was buried
was my double," said Mrs. Paslow composedly.
"You cannot deceive me in that way, Maud. I saw you ill in bed."
"And so I was. I had a bad attack of influenza," said his wife, with
a calm smile. "Oh, my illness was genuine enough; but I did not
die,--although I appeared to do so, for reasons connected with a second
marriage."
"With Mr. Paslow's marriage to me?" asked Beatrice, striving to regain
her calmness, and emulate the sang-froid of this cold, audacious
woman, who appeared to have no feelings.
"Well, no," drawled Mrs. Paslow, "not exactly. I never did care to
benefit my fellow-creatures to that extent. I refer to a marriage I
wished to make with a rich American. However, his mother stopped the
marriage, and I found myself without a natural protector. Therefore, as
I heard from Major Ruck that Vivian proposed to make you his wife, I
came here to save you, and stop him from committing bigamy."
"Which you just now proposed to commit yourself?" said Beatrice, with
cold contempt.
Mrs. Paslow looked at her between half-closed eyelids, and shrugged her
finely moulded shoulders. "Quite so," she said politely; "but I have my
reasons for risking imprisonment."
"Reasons connected with money," sneered Vivian.
"Connected with over a million--pounds, not dollars. Well?"
"Well,"--he faced her squarely--"and what do you propose to do now?"
"One moment," interposed Beatrice, now perfectly calm, and determined
to break down this woman's composure; "I should like to know how you
carried out this plot of a feigned death."
There was a case of cigarettes on the table belonging to Vivian:
Mrs. Paslow cast a disdainful, and rather amused look on Beatrice,
and lighted one of the little rolls of tobacco. When the smoke was
wreathing round her fashionable hat, she spoke with great calmness
and appeared in no way upset by the imperious tone of the woman whom
her husband loved. "Certainly," she replied in a low, sweet voice,
which seemed to be one of her greatest charms, and she had many. "As
I explained, I wanted to be free of Vivian to marry a richer man than
he was, or is likely to be. When I was ill, and he came to see me, the
plan suggested itself. I took the doctor into my confidence, and he
agreed, for a consideration, to forward my aims. My double was really
ill,--oh yes, with consumption; she could not live, so----"
"What do you mean by your double?" asked Beatrice abruptly.
"Vivian can tell you. He knew of my double."
"I did,--I do: but I did not think you would pass her off as yourself,
Maud."
Mrs. Paslow removed the cigarette from her mouth and smiled. "It was a
capital plot," she said musingly; "and but that I want you to be again
my husband, would have succeeded."
"What about your double?" asked Beatrice pertinaciously.
"Oh, she was not a twin sister, as you seem to think. I am the only
daughter and only child of Joseph Orchard, who was a butler, and
is a shepherd. You see," she added, leaning her arms on the table
and addressing her rival in an amused tone, "I have no false pride
about me. When occasion serves I can say that I am the daughter of an
army officer, or of a clergyman, or of anyone with a position. I have
done such things in my time. But to you I can be frank, since there is
nothing to be gained by telling lies."
"Your double--your double, Miss Carr, or Miss Orchard?"
"Neither name is mine. Mrs. Paslow, if you please. Unless"--she glanced
contemptuously at Vivian--"my husband denies----"
"I deny nothing. I cannot," he said savagely. "Say what you have to
say, Maud, and then I shall tell Miss Hall how we met and into what
troubles you led me."
"Miss Hall!" echoed Mrs. Paslow, with a glance at Beatrice. "Then you
know that, do you?"
"How do you know?" asked Beatrice, pointedly.
"Oh, my father told me long ago. Later I might have made capital out of
the affair, but now----" She shrugged again.
"I believe that you are a bad woman," said Beatrice hotly.
"I am--what God made me," retorted Mrs. Paslow, in no wise disturbed
by the speech. "But about my double. She was a girl on the stage
extremely like me: in fact we might have passed for twins. I also went
on the stage--I have done most things in my time; and we--that is Miss
Arthur my double and myself--appeared in a play as twins. If you knew
anything of the theatre, Miss Hall, you would be surprised to hear
how successful that play was. The author was unknown and Major Ruck
financed the play, and----"
"I want to hear nothing about that, Mrs. Paslow. I know now how you
carried out the deception, though it seems to me that as you did not
let Vivian see the dead body, it was needless to have this double."
"Well," admitted Mrs. Paslow apologetically, as though excusing a
fault, "it was necessary to make sure. Vivian, after a few visits,
never came near me----"
"The doctor would not let me," said her husband quickly.
"Good old doctor," murmured Mrs. Paslow, selecting a fresh cigarette;
"he knew what I wanted. However, to make a long story short, Miss
Arthur died in my place and was buried under my name. You have the
certificate, my dear Vivian, so all is well. You were so easily
deceived that there was no fun in deceiving you. A clever man would
have made more certain of his wife's death before arranging to take
another one, especially as you were cheated once before."
"I did hear that you were dead before Mr. Alpenny was murdered,
and I then asked Miss Hall here to be my wife," confessed Vivian;
"afterwards, Major Ruck told me that you were alive, but ill. I went to
see you, and you really seemed to be dying----"
"I am a good actress, Vivian. I was on the stage, remember."
"So I thought, when I saw the doctor and got the certificate, that you
were really and truly dead. Oh, I shall see that the doctor is punished
for this deception."
"I think not," said Mrs. Paslow, narrowing her eyes and looking at him
very directly. "No doubt he will be punished in time, but not by your
will, Vivian dear."
The tone and words were so peculiar and significant that Beatrice
looked straight at the woman, who now had a mocking smile on her face,
and spoke quietly: "You have some power over Mr. Paslow?"
"Why not call him Vivian?" sneered the stranger. "He was"--she
emphasised the word--"to be your husband, remember."
"If you speak like that," said Paslow standing over her and speaking in
a low, angry voice, "I shall forget that I am your husband."
His wife glanced slightingly at Beatrice. "It seems to me that you have
forgotten," she scoffed.
What the infuriated man would have said or done on the spur of the
moment, it is impossible to say; but he was dangerous. Beatrice saw
that, and drew him back with an exclamation. "Don't," she said quickly;
"let her say what she will. It cannot hurt me. And let me remind you,
Mrs. Paslow, that you have not answered my question."
"Nor do I intend to," said the woman, rising and throwing aside the
cigarette. The contemptuous words of Beatrice stung her not a little.
"This is my husband, and I want him to return to town with me."
"You are my wife," said Vivian in quiet anger, "and you were willing to
commit bigamy after deceiving me by a feigned death. I refuse to have
anything more to do with you."
"The law will make you!" she threatened.
"The law will do nothing of the sort. As my wife, I will allow you
enough to live on; but no law will ever make me have anything to do
with you again."
"Then I shall make you!"
"Ah," interposed Beatrice, "you exercise this power?"
"I want my husband," said the woman sullenly.
"I refuse to have anything to do with you," retorted Paslow once
more. His wife was rapidly losing her temper. She had come prepared
for victory; and, meeting with this opposition, all the disdainful
certainty of her assumed nature wore away, and the coarser feelings
became apparent. Her face flushed a dark red, the expression changed,
and instead of a quiet, ladylike person, Beatrice saw before her a
virago of the worst. "You shall come!" she shouted, "or rather, I shall
stay here. This is my house, and you,"--she turned on Beatrice,--"you
shall leave it."
"I am here with Mr. Paslow's sister, and I decline to leave it at the
word of a disgraced wife."
"I!" Mrs. Paslow sprang forward with upraised fist. "You dare to say
that to me, you----" Before she could strike, Vivian caught her arm,
and flung her back with such force that she fell against the balustrade
of the terrace. "Do you want me to commit murder?" he said savagely.
"Why not another, since you killed Alpenny?" she panted, and glared at
him like a tigress losing her prey.
"That is a lie!" cried Beatrice before Vivian could speak. "Mr. Paslow
was with me on that night, and about the time the crime was committed."
"Oh!" sneered the woman, seizing her advantage, "Vivian was with you,
indeed? And what would be said were that known, Miss Hall, as you call
yourself?"
"Be silent," said her husband, catching her arm in an iron grip, and
his face whiter than that of the dead; "you shameless creature! Go away
at once, and cease your insults."
"Leave me alone!" cried Mrs. Paslow, wrenching herself free. "I intend
to stop in my own house."
"My house--not yours."
"I am your wife."
"And just now you confessed to a feigned death to commit bigamy? I have
a great mind to give my lawyers instructions to apply for a divorce."
"Give them to Tuft, then," cried Mrs. Paslow, her fair face convulsed
with fury. "He is Alpenny's lawyer, and knows all about me, and all
about you. See! see!"--she pointed a mocking finger at Vivian who had
turned away with a gesture of despair--"he dare not face the law!"
"If you mean that you will denounce him for having killed Mr. Alpenny,"
said Beatrice in a clear low voice, "you are wrong. I can clear Mr.
Paslow's character. I can save him, and I will!"
"Indeed! Why?"
"Because I love him. Why he married you, how he married you, I do not
know; but I believe that you trapped him into----"
"Trapped him, indeed!" shouted Mrs. Paslow. "I could have married a
dozen better men than he. He is a coward--a milksop--a--a thief! Ah!"
she cried as Beatrice recoiled with a shudder, "you know the truth now.
This dainty, well-born gentleman--this honourable man--is a thief, who
was tried for shoplifting."
"And who was acquitted," said Paslow, deadly pale. "It was you who were
condemned, and rightly: God forgive me for saying so. After all, bad as
you are, you are my wife."
"Vivian," said Beatrice, with her face drawn with agony, "is what this
woman says true?"
"True--quite true. And I'll thank you to speak of me more
respectfully," snapped Mrs. Paslow.
"Is it true?" asked Beatrice again, paying no attention to this
spiteful speech.
"Quite true," said Vivian, drawing a long breath and prepared to face
the worst; "this is the power she has held over me. That she can send
me to prison is a lie; but she can disgrace my name, by telling my
friends that I was accused of shoplifting."
"But was it not in the papers?" asked Beatrice anxiously.
"No. I was accused under another name, Beatrice. I married that
woman"--he pointed to Mrs. Paslow, who was still fuming with
rage--"when my father was alive. She was the daughter of our old
servant, who became a shepherd. Afterwards, when a child, and when I
was a child, she came here, and Mrs. Lilly helped her for the sake of
her father. I was a boy and foolish. She was clever and unscrupulous.
She grew weary of this quiet life, and went to town. I thought that I
loved her----"
"And you did," panted Mrs. Paslow.
"I did not," said Vivian sternly. "I was entrapped, as you know
well.--It was a year later that I met her, when in town, and then she
was the associate of thieves and rogues. Alpenny had seen her here; he
inveigled her into his nets, and used her in the West End as a decoy in
the same way as he used Major Ruck. She met me. I believed that she was
good--that she was still my old playfellow. I married her under my own
name, but in order to save the feelings of my father, I lived with her
as my wife under another name."
"I wanted to take my own and come down here," said the woman.
"I know you did, but I would not allow it," said Vivian, and continued
his story rapidly, while Beatrice, perfectly still, listened intently.
"It would have broken my father's heart. And then," he added, turning
to Beatrice, "I found out how vile she was."
"I never deceived you--never," said Mrs. Paslow.
"No. You had that redeeming point," said her husband; "as a wife I
could find no fault with you in that way. Had you been good and kind, I
might have come to love you, as I did when we were children together.
But your nature was essentially false and wicked. Under the tuition of
Alpenny you developed into an adventuress, and made the worst use of
your talents."
"But for Alpenny we should have starved," she reminded him.
"I did not know that," he retorted. "You said that the money had been
left to you by your god-mother; only when it was too late did I learn
that Alpenny gave you the money for having stolen things. And then I
was dragged into your evil ways."
"You did steal," insisted Mrs. Paslow.
"I did not. Beatrice, one day we were in a draper's shop in the West
End. This woman stole some lace; she was arrested, and I was arrested
also as her accomplice."
"Oh Vivian!"
"Oh Vivian!" mocked Mrs. Paslow. "You see he is a thief."
"You lie," said Paslow angrily. "Beatrice does not believe that."
"No! no! I would never believe it," said Beatrice.
"You fool!" scoffed Mrs. Paslow.
"You angel!" cried Vivian fervently, and then proceeded rapidly with
his nauseous story. "Under my feigned name I was tried--and thus,
thank God! I was enabled to save my father from dying of a broken
heart. I was accused, but Tuft, Alpenny's lawyer, defended me--not from
kindness. No. Alpenny, by this accusation of theft, secured a hold over
me, which he used after my father's death to extort the property from
me. This is why I am so poor. Alpenny and my wife"--he laid a scornful
emphasis on the word--"got all my money."
"And we had a right to," said Mrs. Paslow. "I am your wife, and
Alpenny, through Tuft, saved you from going to gaol."
"For his own ends merely," retorted Vivian. "I had to pay bitterly for
his aid.--This woman"--he again pointed to Maud--"was condemned, as it
was proved that she was an expert thief, and she was sentenced to a few
months' imprisonment."
"To five months," said Mrs. Paslow shamelessly.
"I was acquitted; but the judge read me a lecture on the kind of
society I kept. And Heaven help me!" cried Vivian, "then was the first
time that I knew what sort of society my marriage had led me into."
"You were always a greenhorn," said Mrs. Paslow, patting her hair into
shape, and arranging her ruffled plumes.
Vivian turned his back on her. "I left the court without a stain on my
character," he said quickly; "and left England for the five months,
telling my father that I was going abroad for my health. And my health
was bad," he added. "I broke down under the vileness of it all. My
father never knew the truth; nor did any of my friends. The case, since
I was accused under another name, passed unnoticed. But Maud knew the
truth, and so did Alpenny; so did Tuft his creature, and Major Ruck,
another of his minions. They tried to make me vile by threats of
exposure; but so long as I could bribe Alpenny by giving him money, no
action was taken by him or Ruck. Maud I also kept----"
"I had a right to the money. I am your wife."
"I admit that you had the right," he said. "Wicked as you were, I
acknowledged you as my wife."
"Not to the world," she said sharply.
"Because that would have made the marriage known to my father, and
he would have cut me off without a shilling. After his death, when
you found that Alpenny had the money, you refused to be acknowledged,
although I asked you to come here as my wife. I had not then met with
Miss Hall," ended Vivian significantly.
"I see. You love her?"
"With all my heart and soul."
"And I love him," acknowledged Beatrice. "From what I have heard, I can
see that Vivian is not to blame, you wicked woman."
"Here," said Mrs. Paslow, advancing, "get out of my house. I have come
here to take up my rightful position. The house is mine."
"You will leave this place at once," said Vivian, his face dark with
anger; "you can tell what you like and do what you like. Alpenny is
dead, and I decline to be under your thumb any longer."
"I shall stop here," said Mrs. Paslow, and sat down firmly.
Vivian placed his hand on her shoulder. She jumped up in a fury and
struck at him. "You dare to touch me, you thief!" she stormed. "You
have spoilt my life--you have--you have!" Her anger choked her, and she
tore at the lace round her neck; in doing so, she ripped the dress, and
her hand caught unknowingly at something within. To the amazement of
Beatrice, a chain of glittering gems was pulled from its hiding-place
round her neck, and fell on the pavement. The jewels were diamonds, and
they flashed, pools of liquid light, in the moonlight.
"Oh!" cried Beatrice, guessing at once. "The Obi necklace!"
Almost before the words were out of her mouth, Mrs. Paslow had snatched
up the necklace and was flying across the lawn. Vivian would have
followed, but Beatrice stopped him.