A Last Throw

Front matter

BY THE SAME .AUTHOR A WOMAN'S CROSS Crown Qvo, cloth, gilt, 6s. Second Edition 11 Her characters are well chosen and distinguished ... far above the average of modern novels and should undoubtedly be enquired for— and read." — St James's Budget. " The book will compare favourably with the previous works by the same authoress for vividness of colouring, excellence of style and sus tained interest." — Western Daily Mercury. " Mrs Diehl has certainly the trick— a very essential one in a writer of fiction— of pinning the reader's interest to her story at the very first page. One can follow the opening chapters with unabated interest."— Glasgow Herald. " It is refreshing to come across a novel which breaks new ground. This Mrs Diehl may certainly claim to have done. The interest in the story intensifies from page to page, and we have no hesitation in classing it an exceptionally able novel." — Birmingham Gazette.

"This cleverly written and intensely interesting book." — Dundee Advertiser. " We pay a high tribute to Mrs Diehl' s constructive abilities." — Glasgow Daily Mail. " Mrs Diehl knows how to manage a somewhat complicated plot with skill."— Literary World. 11 A very interesting love story. There are some well-drawn characters and the story is very readable.' — Pall Mall Gazette. "She has the knack of telling a story which carries one through chapter after chapter.'"— Morning Post. " Go to the book and devour every word." — Gentlewoman- " Mrs Diehl writes with so much care and ability," — New Saturday. " We can confidently recommend this book to our readers." — Court Circular. " The book is eminently readable." — Liverpool Mercury. " Occasionally we come across a book which is destined to become widely known and to be talked about ; and we have no hesitation in saying that * A Woman's Cross ' comes within this category. 1 1 contains a remarkably sensational story well and dramatically told.

Its concep tion is original and its working out skilful to a degree." — Liverpool Courier. " A Woman's Cross " is cleverly conceived." — Academy. " The tale is well told." — Westminster Review. DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS, LONDON BY ALICE M. DIEHL AUTHOR OF THE GARDEN OF EDEN" "PASSIONS PUPPETS' " A woman's cross " etc. etc. tHon&on DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 1 8 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. CONTENTS

Prologue

PAGE Chapter I ...... i Chapter II , . . . . 7 THE STORY Chapter I . . . . . -15 Chapter II . . . . -23 Chapter III . . . . . .48 Chapter IV . . . . . .59 Chapter V . . . . . -75 Chapter VI . . . . . -94 Chapter VII ..... 107 Chapter VIII . . . . .122 Chapter IX . . . . . .136 Chapter X . . . . 157 Chapter XI . . . . .174 Chapter XII 188 CONTENTS VIII PAGE Chapter XIII 2o8 Chapter XIV 225 Chapter XV 253 Chapter XVI ■ 2(54 Chapter XVII ■ • • • 283 Chapter XVIII 29S Chapter XIX . ... • • 3'4 Chapter XX . . ... • -334

PROLOGUE.

Chapter I

A WARM summer evening in London. The usual hurrying to and fro of carriages and cabs just before the hour at which most of the concerts and dramas begin. Outside a large West-End hotel opposite Hyde Park, under the spreading branches of a leafy sycamore, stood a tall dark woman, cloaked and bonneted in black. Her luminous, wistful eyes shone through her veil as, leaning back against the high railings, she fixed them steadfastly upon the entrance, where late diners were ascending, and intending sight seers descending, the wide flight of steps. She remained motionless as a statue, until two men appeared from within. They were in even ing dress — their light overcoats showed a broad expanse of shirt-front. When one, slighter than his companion, stooped and struck a match on the sole of his boot and she saw his face, she i A gave a groan — the thin, nervous bare hand hold ing her skirt out of the dust clenched the stuff more tightly.

As he lit a cigar, and leisurely descending the steps in conversation with his friend, an older man, hailed a hansom, she started forward and hailed one which was just passing her. There was a gleam of gold — a hurried " follow that hansom " — and she was in the vehicle, leaning back, her gaze fixed upon the back of the cab in which those two men were. The hansom in front drove steadily eastward through the thronged thoroughfares — then down a couple of side streets into another, where it halted before the entrance of a fashionable theatre. The two men alighted, paid the driver, and strolled in. The woman in black followed, and stood apart within earshot as they changed some stalls for a private box. After they had passed in, she went to the aperture where they had negotiated with a clerk.

" I want a stall, or a dress circle seat," she said. " Hats or bonnets not admitted, ma'am," said the clerk, firmly. " There is a ladies' room ? " " Oh yes." He spoke more amiably, and showed her the few seats he had still unsold, on a plan of the auditorium. Presently, shortly after the curtain drew up on the first scene — a gay one — a lady, quietly but elegantly dressed in unobtrusive black, and wearing black gloves, took her place in a corner stall, whence she had a full view of the handsome profile of the dark man in a first tier box who had struck a match on his boot at the door of the hotel. The piece was a farcical comedy. There was some music, and a good deal of noise on the stage and laughter in front, especially from pit and gallery. But the two men in the box were by no means absorbed in the performance.

Only when the leading lady was on the stage did the elder of the two pay undivided attention to the piece. " She is a splendid creature, by Jove she is," he said, at the end of the first act, as he applauded enthusiastically. " Come round, old fellow, and I'll introduce you." " I wouldn't interfere with you and your little amusements for the world, I can assure you," said the younger man, with a twinkle in his eye. Then, as his companion left him, he leant forward and gazed nonchalantly about the house, twisting his moustache. Had the lady in black been still in that corner stall, he must have seen her. But it was empty. As he stared first at one group of persons, then at another — absently, for his thoughts were greatly preoccupied — he did not hear a knocking at the box door. At the sharp sound of the snap of the closing lock he looked up, surprised at his friend's speedy return, and prepared to banter him on his ill-success.

It was not his friend. As he saw the tall, pale woman with the wrathful eyes — he recoiled. " Claire ! " he muttered. You — but how — " " You thought you were rid of me, eh ? " she said, in low, bitter tones, sinking into a chair behind him. "I — your wife — and my poor Ralph ! When you promised to be a father to him — have you no heart left ? Ah ! I know ! It is of no use to deny that you are rolling in riches, and do not care whether we starved or not." " Hush ! I am not rolling in riches — or any thing of the sort — I have only just begun to make my way," he said, recovering himself, although he was livid, and cold drops stood on his brow from the shock of this sudden and unexpected meeting. " Claire ! Be sensible ! What was the use of my sending for you when I had no home to give you ?

I was waiting for that. And now you have forestalled me ! " He paused, and wiped his brow. " I have proved you a rascal ! " she said bitterly. Despair was in her eyes. " Do be just — for once in your life ! " he retorted, indignantly. " And this is my reward for slaving and toiling that I might give you the luxuries you crave for ! If you had only waited, no woman would have owned a better home. Now I can only give you a cottage. What you take for wealth — I suppose you judge by my dress, my hotel, my offices — what you take for signs of riches is advertisement ! I have little or nothing for myself. But what I have you shall share. To-morrow I will prove it to you. Where are you staying? I will come to you and we will settle everything. You see, Claire, my love is too strong for me to blame you," he went on, with emotion, after noting that, first incredulous, she had gradually softened — the hard look had receded from her dark eyes.

" Even if your living with me keeps me from desperate work — work night and day, which is the only work which tells now-a-days — I don't care ! But you will be reasonable, will you not ? " He went on, pleading more and more gently, until she had softened. " And now, before you go — for you must go, my dearest, my wife cannot appear suddenly in this fashion, it would be degrading to her — tell me — how did you get funds to come ? " " I slaved — I worked night and day, too ! " she said, proudly, throwing up her beautiful head — although middle-aged, there was still a certain beauty and distinction about her somewhat peculiar personality. " I meant to come, and help you — I feared you might be in a worse plight than we were — " " And he — he is not with you ? " — he" spoke almost sternly. " Ralph ?

Oh no — poor boy ! He went up country, I have not heard from him for months — " " Ah ! We must discuss him with our other affairs, to-morrow," he said, hurriedly, as the box door opened, his friend looked in, then disappeared and shut the door with the celerity of a Jack-in the-box. " That was the gentleman I was with. I must put you into a cab, Claire, and send you back to your lodgings. To-morrow I will settle you in better quarters until we have a home of our own together." He escorted her carefully and respectfully down the theatre stairs, stood bareheaded to watch her depart in a hansom, then returned, slowly, his thoughts in a whirl. " Good heavens ! My first stroke of ill-luck ! " he thought, grinding his teeth and clenching his hands as he ascended the steps leading to the corridor.

" I never thought of this — never dreamt for one moment that she would dare to hunt me down ! What am I to do ? Oh, for some merciful chance to rid me of this dreadful curse of my life ! "

Chapter II About

a fortnight later, the couple so strangely and unexpectedly re-united were travelling west ward. They were alone in a first-class compart ment of a Great Western express. " Claire " was no longer a melancholy being in mourning garb. She was well if not handsomely dressed in coloured materials, a bonnet in the latest fashion on her luxuriant dark hair. She looked happy and prosperous, lounging in a corner, a basket of fruit on her lap, newspapers and magazines at her side. There was a costly diamond ring on her wedding finger. It sparkled as she peeled a nectarine. " Have it," she said, spearing it with the silver fruit-knife and holding it out to her husband. " No, thanks," he said, glancing up from the Times. He looked pale and worn. She pouted slightly. " You are a strange man," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

" You bury yourself in a newspaper, when there is so much to talk of." " I thought everything had been talked to death," he said, resignedly. " I cannot understand what you mean about these people, this man and wife you have en gaged," she said, persistently. " Surely if this is such a good place for them — I am sure it must be, if you pay them the wages you say you will — they could have managed to be there, or at least to accompany us." " I have told you twenty times that they could not, and that we shall have to manage for ourselves for a few days," he said, with a sigh of impatience. " The house is clean. We take our stores with us. It will not be the first time you have shifted for yourself. Fancy — when we first met — if you had been told you would have a house to yourself — and servants !

" "You need not reproach me for my misfor tunes," she said, bridling. " Then don't make my life a burden to me by complaints," he retorted. " Eat your fruit — read your papers " — he paused and once more re pressed a biting sarcasm — " all I ask is an hour's peace and quiet to see what is doing in the money market." Claire looked unutterable things — the improve ment in her circumstances had fostered the worst traits in her character — and aggressively rustled and cut her various papers and magazines as she somewhat greedily munched her fruit. When the journey was over, and the sound — welcome to the husband's ears — of the name of their destination was shouted by the porters awaiting the train, she looked disdainfully disagreeable, and he was livid, with a dangerous gleam in his dark eyes.

However, during the drive from the station in an open fly which was overladen with their impedimenta, the matrimonial situation became less strained. Claire was pleased to approve of his choice of an abode, when she found herself in a wooded valley among meandering streams that turned picturesque watermills, and he pointed out a white house among the pines on the brow of the hill as their future residence. It was a charming cottage, with white walls covered with clustering roses, and a gabled roof. Within and without, it was in good order. The lawns were smooth, the flowerbeds weeded. Claire's sharp eyes were speedily satisfied that not a speck of dust rested on the old-fashioned mahogany furniture in the dining-room, or the spindle - shanked Sheraton chairs and dainty marqueterie tables and cabinets in the tiny drawing-room whose long windows opened upon the garden.

" But I must unpack before I do anything ! " she cried, after commenting enthusiastically upon her future home. " I cannot have this beautiful little place untidy — if we do not eat anything till to-morrow ! " " I will see that that contingency is averted," he said, good-humouredly. " I will leave my coat upstairs, and try my hand at lighting a fire and getting you some tea. I think if any fellow can get a meal together at a pinch, I can — or ought to be able to." In a quarter of an hour all the boxes were carried to their places, and Claire was on her knees before a large trunk, carefully unpacking its contents. As she laid them on the large Arabian bedstead, then lining the drawers of the chest and wardrobe with sheets of brown paper, placed the garments in neat piles therein — a faint but suggestive odour of burning wood, and sundry knockings from below, told of her husband's progress in his self-imposed task.

He had given her a well-filled purse wherewith to make the necessary purchases for the complete renewal of her wardrobe, and she hung several pretty dresses in the wardrobe and hanging closet in the dressing-room with a sense of satisfaction. Then, removing the diamond ring he had given her in place of a shabby little gold " keeper," and admiring the pure light cast about by the scintil lating stones as she did so, she washed her hands, and proceeded to arrange her hair at the toilette table with her new ivory brushes and tortoise-shell combs. " He must be richer than he pretends to be," she thought, as she brushed her long, wavy black hair and wound it in loose coils at the top of her head. It was not the newest fashion, but it became her Roman cast of features. " He seems to have such different ideas of what things should cost to those he formerly had.

Fancy him — who once wore an old turnip silver watch that a common labourer here, now, would turn his nose up at, — with this ! " " This " was a hundred-guinea chronometer of the best London manufacture. He had placed it on the china tray on the dressing-table before he commenced kitchen work. She took it up and looked at it. Her life until now had not included the handling of valuable watches of the newest fashion with up-to date improvements. As she was trying to open the case, the watch somehow slipped from her fingers and fell upon the carpet. She was down on her knees in an instant, picking it up. As it had struck the floor, it had opened. Trying to close it properly to replace it on the tray, she touched a spring. An inner gold case opened, disclosing a miniature. Staring at the lovely face surrounded by golden curls — the bright face of a child, or girl — she paled : her eyes widened — her jaw fell — she began to tremble.

Then she started. There was a footstep — a hand was on her shoulder. " What are you doing — tampering with my watch ? " said her husband, angrily. " Give it to me!" " Not until you tell me whose portrait that is," she cried, passionately. " Now I understand ! A woman is the cause of your desertion. I might have known it ! But this is a child ! Whose child ? " " Give me that watch," he repeated, coolly. He retreated a step or two from the enraged creature — there was a mad look in her shining eyes. " It is no business of yours whose portrait that is, if indeed it is one. Perhaps it was there before I bought the watch." " Liar ! " she hissed. " What a fool you must think me, to have been hoodwinked, first by your false promises, then by your miserable falsehoods of excuses ! You have brought me here to get me out of the way, so that you may be left in peace with the other, whoever she is.

But you will see ! I will hunt you into your lair— I will follow you to the end of the world, if need be, and tell her the truth — that you belong to ?ne — that I will never, never release you — " " You are mad," he said, paling to the lips, but speaking with a calm, cool contempt. " First, you were mad with the pitiful passion you called love for me — now you are mad with hate. But there are remedies for such as you. Men have ways and means of thwarting viragos who would ruin them." She glanced around with a bitter laugh, and began pacing the room. Although there were both generosity and devotion in her impulsive southern temperament, there lurked a demon among her better qualities — a mad temper. When this was roused, she was tigerish. Now, as she walked to and fro, she was lashing herself into an access of fury.

It was not so much his contempt, the appellations he had used in that icy, disdainful tone, although the word "virago" had stung her to the quick — it was wild jealousy of the original of the concealed portrait, horrible suspicion of the basest treachery on the part of the husband who had once been her devoted lover — who had lain at her very feet and implored her to marry him. " I wish I had never seen you ! " she cried, turning upon him. " And you reproach me ! When you followed me about, pestering me to be your wife, I had never meant to marry, I was true to my husband's memory, I only listened to you because of your fine promises of what you would do for my boy ! Fool, fool that I was to believe you then — fool to believe you just now — when I found that while you were squandering money like a millionaire, you had left us to — die of want !

" " Pray do not be melodramatic — but give me that watch," he said, averting his eyes — as those do who would conceal the extent of their anger. Come, give it me." " Never," she said determinedly, and she thrust it into the bosom of her dress. " I shall keep it — to hunt for that woman." " Will you ? " he asked, with a dangerous gleam in his eyes, advancing a step. " Come, Claire. I should be sorry to use force." " You shall never have it," she said, obstin ately, taking up her bonnet and tying it on. " More — I leave you now to begin my search — before many days are over, I will find that creature — and she shall know — all — " The last word was smothered. With a swift movement he grasped her. A struggle began — a silent, desperate struggle. While she fought and tore at him with stifled cries, he clutched her and gained upon the bosom of the dress to tear out the watch.

At last with a spring she fastened her teeth in his chin — in the pain he flung her from him — she fell back striking the back of her head against the corner of the stone mantelpiece, then tumbled in a heap upon the floor. In an agony of terror he flung himself by her, raised her, laid her on the bed, sprinkled her face with water, called her by the old endearing names. But she lay lifeless, with half-open glazing eyes, her pallor deepening into a grayish lividity. THE STORY

CHAPTER I

There was a ball at Harford Court, the fine old Elizabethan house in Harford Park, one night in the late springtime about three years after the above episode in two stormy lives. It was quite exceptional for the good old couple, Sir Thomas and Lady Chauncy, to indulge in so youthful a festivity. He was an octogenarian, and Lady Chauncy, although his second wife, was but ten years his junior, and childless. There had been first, a nursery full of children, then a lively circle of young sons and daughters, enlivening the ancient rooms and stone corridors with their gay young voices and laughter. But those young people had been born to Sir Thomas years and years ago, and were now sober middle-aged folk in different parts of the world, with growing families of their own. Now, the courtly old gentleman " of the old school " had favourites and pets, whose very presence in the old house revived and brightened his waning life.

Some were dogs ; there was a slim graceful grey hound called " Myra " who was never far from her master's elbow-chair or pony-carriage : a huge mastiff with bloodshot eyes, who had his pet aversions, at whom he scowled with a growl like distant thunder, as well as his pet protegees, whom he would welcome with a sidelong leer, and a lash of his tail. And Lady Chauncy had an ancient King Charles spaniel and a shivering toy terrier who was never very well and always had a piteous air. But some were human beings — their genial, white-haired neighbour, Sir Hugh Melvil, who took such kindly notice of the dogs, and various young people : Sir Hugh's handsome son, Jack Melvil, who had recently passed a famous military examination, and had just been gazetted lieutenant in the Engineers ; the Vicar's good and charming daughter Mary, who had been a frequent visitor from the day she first came into the rose-garden in her nurse's arms : and last, but not least, Althea Pauncefote.

Mr Pauncefote, Althea's father, had bought a small estate — the Grange, formerly a farmhouse — several years ago, when Althea was a fresh, sweet child, dainty as an opening rosebud on a dewy summer morn. A laughing, happy little being who seemed surprised and delighted at every fresh thing she saw, at every new item that claimed her attention in the whole wide world, Althea seemed never tired, never bored. She had come and gone in the big, stately rooms of the old Court like a sunbeam ; and her mother Mrs Pauncefote being an invalid doomed to a life spent upon the sofa, while her father, a stockbroker, spent most of his time in town, Althea seemed naturally enough to make a second home of the Court, where she was ever welcome, and more than welcome — and to regard Sir Thomas and Lady Chauncy in the light of confidants as well as a species of foster-parents.

The project of a ball happened thus. Althea's birthday was always spent partly at the Court, where there were beautiful gifts awaiting her. Her jewel-case had been half filled by Sir Thomas and Lady Chauncy's periodical gifts. But there was mostly a feint, beforehand — a gentle probing on the part of my Lady of Althea's tastes and wishes — so that the pseudo-surprises should be pleasant and successful ones. This spring — Althea's birthday was in May — she was walking with my Lady, — a pretty old lady with silvery curls under her lace cap who invariably wore stiff black brocade and a knitted silken shawl, — in the rose-garden, the toy terrier nestling in his mistress' arms, the blear-eyed old King Charles waddling behind them with his tongue lolling out more than usual, and my Lady began, with a careful affec tation of indifference.

" I was wondering, Althea, what I should really wish for, if I were asked by somebody who wanted to make me a little present," she said, as Althea snipped dead roses and let them fall into her basket, while my Lady looked on and pointed out fresh victims for the scissors. " A new pony for Sir Thomas," said Althea, B promptly, stretching a white round arm from a loose white serge sleeve and snipping off a dying blossom in the arch overhead. " Oh no ! my dear child," said the old lady, with gentle horror. " I hope dear old Peter will draw his master about for many a day yet. I could not bear to see a new pony in his place." " Then — new frocks for the choir girls," went on Althea, smiling at her own pretended density in not seeing what my Lady was driving at. " They really want them badly, poor things, and white caps and tippets too.

I count the tiny holes in those tippets all through the sermon on Sundays, so that I haven't the least idea after wards what the Vicar was preaching about." " My dear, they shall have them," said my Lady, emphatically, with a shocked expression on her wistful, soft old face. " I cannot imagine how it can have happened that I should be so for getful. Ah ! my poor eyes — my sight grows worse and worse. But, Althea, I meant — do you know — that if I were a young girl again — about your age, for instance, I should find it quite difficult to think of anything. Now you — you have trinkets — as many as you want, you said yesterday. You have a horse — your good father has seen to that. And a new piano — " " If / were a girl who was asked what I should like, I should know at once," said Althea, finding quite a nest of dead blooms and snipping away at a great rate.

" I should like — a ball." " A — ball ? My dear ! " Lady Chauncy gave a little gasp of incredulity. " A cup and ball ? Or is it some new sort of thing?" she asked, puzzled. " Lady Chauncy ! I mean a dance," said Althea, laughing. " I know what you mean, you see ! You are thinking of my birthday — and you can't think — you and Sir Thomas and the dad have been so kind — of anything I haven't got. Well, I haven't got that'.' " But my dear — " Lady Chauncy paused, taken aback — the idea was so new, so unexpected, she had thought of Althea so completely as the child who was to be pleased with toys and sweets and trinkets. " How can you have — a dance — given to you ? " " Very well indeed," said the young girl eagerly, her sweet brown eyes fixed eloquently on the old lady's mild gray orbs, so dimmed by advancing age.