A Woman's Burden: A Novel

"I've never given you cause to speak like that," she answered. "I made inquiries about you – I felt anxious. But they did tell me at Mother Mandarin's that they had seen nothing of you. I concluded you must have left the country again."

"So I did. That Major of yours nearly spotted me last time I was here. I thought I'd better skip."

"Yes, he did spot you, as you call it," replied Miriam quietly. "But I persuaded him to leave you alone. I had some difficulty. But when I told him our relationship he consented."

"Damn! if I'd known that I wouldn't have skipped. Why the devil didn't you let me know?"

"How could I? I couldn't find you. Where have you been?"

"Oh, back to the Cape – cleared out there two days after you saw me. I didn't think it was good enough to run any risks."

"Do you still call yourself Maxwell?"

"No – chucked it for another."

"I see," she said sorrowfully, "you are in low water again."

"I swear I'm the most unfortunate man on God's earth," he whined. "I started square enough out there, and made a tidy pile. You saw for yourself last time I was pretty flush. Well, as I told you, I left my pal to look after our claim while I did a scamper round, and what did the devil do but clear out to America with the whole swag. That cleaned me out, and I had to start all afresh. But every blessed thing I touched went wrong, till I got so sick of it that I scraped what I could together, and here I am. You'll give me a lift-up, Miriam, for the last time?"

"All my life I have been doing that, Jabez, and each time has been the last, hasn't it? But it is more difficult for me to help you now; you see – "

"Oh, I know all about it – that husband of yours has cleared out with another woman. But I don't see you're so much the worse for that. You've got your income from the old man! 'Fact, I reckon you've done pretty well for yourself!"

"I am glad you think so," she said bitterly. "Further than as a kind of banker, an orange to be squeezed, you will never understand what I am. Of what my life has been you can have no idea. You are utterly heartless, brutally callous."

"Oh, stow all that preaching, Miriam, and come to the point."

"That means how much have I got, I suppose? Understand then, Jabez, once for all, this is the last money I give you, and I give it you on one condition only – that you never come near me again!"

"Oh, all right, no need to bother about that. How much is it?"

"Thirty pounds is all I have."

"Lord! what do you do with it all? – you never seem to have much about you. Wonder I do come near you – it's not worth it I'm sure."

His tone had roused her.

"You worthless scoundrel," she said, "to speak to me like that after all I have done for you. There is not one woman in a thousand but would have turned her back on you long since – criminal that you are!"

"Should advise you to drop that! If it comes to who's the criminal there's not much to choose between us anyway. How about thieving, eh? – who stole old Barton's will? Oh, I know all about you, my lady. Why, Shorty saw you do the whole trick."

"I think not," she answered. She had herself well in hand again now. "I fancy you'll find it was Mrs. Darrow he saw."

"Not a bit of it. He saw you right enough. That was all kid his yarn to the Major to squeeze a fiver out of him."

"I have no wish to hear any details of you and your associates' abominable blackmailing schemes. Anything I have done I am not ashamed of. At all events you are the last man who has a right to taunt me with it."

"I don't want to taunt you," he replied, changing his tone. "There's nothing of the saint about me I know. What we are, we are: we're much of a muchness, I suppose."

"I should be sorry if it were so," she said. "However, the less said between you and me the better. We are long past words. Wait here and I will bring you the money, and I trust you will go to some other country and remain there. It is not too late even now for you to make at all events an independence for yourself."

When she had left the room he ran over the position in his mind. She seemed in no way surprised at, and not to care in the least for, what he had told her. He was very much afraid that dodge would not work. She knew the Major, too, and the Major certainly knew him, and altogether he came to the conclusion that this was a case where a little oil was likely to be more efficacious than a large amount of force.

"All right," he said, as she returned with the notes. "I'll go, as you're so mighty anxious to get rid of me. But if I do make another pile you'll be sorry. And take my advice, Miriam, and don't get trying your hand at 'light-finger' work, or you mayn't come off so well next time, and then you mustn't expect any help from me, you know."

"Leave the house, you brute," she cried, losing all control of herself for the moment, "or I'll send this moment for Major Dundas, and hand you over to him."

"What do I care for you and your bully?" he retorted, laughing somewhat uneasily. But he put on his dilapidated hat, nevertheless, and swaggered out into the hall.

In the street the meaning of her words came back upon him with even greater force, and with all the speed he was capable of he made for Mother Mandarin's – the only hole in the vast city where he felt secure.

Left alone Miriam shed a few tears. In truth it seemed she was the very sport of Fortune. Was it never to end – this torment of her life? She hungered so for love and peace. All through she had striven to do right, to benefit in every way those around her, and how had she fared? The words of Queen Mary came to her mind: —

"Mother of God,
Thou knowest woman never meant so well
Or fared so ill in this disastrous world."

How well they applied to her. It all seemed so dark. There was no sign of dawn. Yet she did not lose hope. Her faith in God was infinite.

Within a few minutes of her brother's departure Mrs. Parsley called. There was a thick fog outside, and from time to time the rain managed to pierce it. Against such elements Mrs. Parsley was well protected by mackintosh, umbrella, and the thickest boots. Thus arrayed she was not a comely vision. But underneath that gutta-percha sheeting there beat a heart of gold – a heart worthy all protection. During the past year her visits to Miriam had been frequent, for she sympathised with her deeply. The younger woman had laid her whole life bare to her, even to her connection with Mother Mandarin and Jabez and old Barton.

Gideon Anab, alias Shorty, was still a sore point with Mrs. Parsley. She had learned through him a very wholesome lesson – that charity was but a business after all, and like most other businesses, if left to go its own way, was apt to go all wrong. Thus convinced she had taken all further charitable operations under her own immediate supervision, with the result that for three days out of the week she was obliged to come to London, and then she was only too glad to make the flat in Kensington her headquarters.

"How glad I am to see you," said Miriam, taking her unlovely visage between her two hands and kissing her. "But, my dear Mrs. Parsley, how pale you look!"

The old lady had thrown off her impermeable chrysalis, and had emerged therefrom a very sober fritillary.

"Pale? – of course I'm pale. I've seen a ghost I tell you – the ghost of a man I thought dead years ago."

"Where?"

"Outside – just round the corner here. He seemed to be following some miserable, red-headed, out-at-elbows creature. They were both walking fast. But the man I mean – the ghost – is a tall, pale, thin fellow, with eyes like burning coals. I believe I saw him once at Thorpe, but I was not sure at the time if it was he. But I'm sure now. He was wearing a soft hat and a black cloak – "

"The shadow!" exclaimed Miriam, "it must be!"

"Shadow, my dear! Well, shadow or ghost I know him. His name is Farren. He's the man who ran away with your husband's mother thirty years ago!"

CHAPTER IX.

MORE TROUBLE

"Farren – Farren!" repeated Miriam thoughtfully, "yes, now I remember the name. Mr. Barton told me the whole story, how he bribed him to go to Australia and break off with Gerald's mother, and how in revenge she made mischief between Mr. Barton and the girl he was engaged to."

"Bribed him?" Mrs. Parsley rubbed her nose thoughtfully – a sure sign with her that she was puzzled. "I don't know so much about the bribing, although that was the story Barton told. Flora Barton had five hundred a year of her own, and Farren was deeply in love with her – no, I fancy it took something more than bribery to make him leave the woman and exile himself like that. I'm pretty sure Barton must have known something about the man's life, and so had him in his power."

"But this Farren, I suppose, was a man of position and reputation in those days, wasn't he, Mrs. Parsley?"

"My dear, he hadn't a rag of reputation – not a rag. He gambled terribly, and led a most dissipated life; all he did was just to keep on the safe side of the law."