Swifter than a Weaver's Shuttle. A sketch from life

Front matter

SWIFTER THAN A WEAVER'S SHUTTLE. A SKETCH FROM LIFE. SWIFTER THAN A WEAVER'S SHUTTLE. a Shtttjj from fist. BY JAMES W. GAMBIER, CAPTAIN ROYAL NAVY. " O Nature ! what hadst thou to do in Hell When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend In mortal Paradise of such sweet flesh ? " " Romeo and Juliet." VOL. III. LONDON: SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, LOWREY & CO., PATERNOSTER SQUARE. 1887. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. VENUS VICTRIX I II. NELLIE'S STORY . . . . . 36 III. THE MERRY MARRIAGE CHIMES . . JO IV. MR. GIZZARD . . . . . 80 V. A MAGDALEN . . . . .102 VI. MARIGO'S DISCLOSURES . . . .12 1 VII. AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE . . . 1 42 VIII. DEALS OF BIGAMY . . . . 1 66 IX. ANTIOCH . . . . . .190 X. GOULD'S FRIENDS .... 204 XI. FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE . . .22 1 XII. FUIT ILIUM. ..... 236 XIII. DUBOIS' PIT 256 XIV. OMEGA ......

Chapter I. Venus Victrix

Romeyn, after leaving his daughter's room, took some time in going to bed. He had much to vex him, and much to cause him serious reflection. He felt that the last few weeks of his life had been more eventful than all the long years which had preceded them, for he knew that Herœa had obtained a mastery over his heart which, even at fifty, it was as impossible to rebel against, as it was folly to ignore. But he had no wish to do either the one or the other. He was content things should be as they were. For she was to him the embodiment of all his most cherished ideals of classic and faultless beauty, such an ideal as men can alone form who worship beauty for its own sake. Had she been of marble he VOL. III. i WEAVER' S SHUTTLE. 2 would have expended his last shilling to possess the statue ; but, far from that, he perceived that the qualities of her mind were as much above the level of that of any woman he had ever known as were her personal attractions.

That her life had been wild and irregular, that she had travelled over rough roads, and through strange phases of existence, he did not allow for a moment to weigh against her. He had had it all from her own lips ; had been able to test the truth of it from its inherent probability. It was quite impossible her life should have been other than it had been, starting as it did, and that she had not settled into the humdrum condition of cut-anddried existence was only natural. It would have been an anomaly, for such a rare creation as Herœa. Her very ability and beauty would single her out for the centre of political or financial intrigue wherever her lot had been cast. So he loved her, exactly as she was ; loved her in spite of the faults she so plainly displayed, loved even these faults, — her haughty temper, her cold disdain, her utter indifference, in many cases, to the feelings of others, her cruel, merciless ambition.

But she was to him the first true glimpse of what life could be which had ever shone across his path. Be hind the time since he met her all seemed meaningless vacuity, a weary round of petty frivolities, dull, empty, and tasteless. Even the first few weeks of his almost forgotten honey-moon, when he really believed himself in love with the bride who had surrendered to him the deepest passion of her heart, seemed vapid in comparison with that imaginary world that lay in this woman's smiles. This wondrous Greek ! fresh from those isles which such as she, in the dim past, had peopled with demi gods. The ancient gods themselves could not have seen anything fairer; how, therefore, could he have either seen, or hope to see, any thing to compare with her ! And now she seemed to be standing almost in his path, so that he could scarce pass on one side or the other without thrusting aside every thought he had ever had.

If she would but turn and take his hand, that great life lay there, beyond them. But no ! there were in superable difficulties, — difficulties arising from the very qualities which he most respected in her ; anomalous possibly, but real and very WEA VER'S SHUTTLE. 4 potent. Then he thought with almost un governable wrath that many had already pro posed ways of getting over these difficulties. But, after all, what other conditions could he himself offer ? It was this thought that mad dened him. He saw that she had a clear view in prospect, and knew that nothing would divert her from it ; that she would not allow her feet to stray from the straight road which led to it. And this very fixity of purpose en deared her still more to him, though baffling his hopes. But now, what had happened ? The honour and reputation of his daughter whom he really loved in some rugged, ill-defined fashion, was by a strange chance confided to this woman's keeping.

This kind of social and moral fiasco had never happened before in his family. Madeline might have run away, his wife might have refused to live with him ; still, he himself had not suffered ridicule, as he undoubtedly might do now. And what use could Herœa make of this ? He knew she was not merely mercenary, for she had frequently refused his offers, no matter how delicately or circuitously suggested. But that she was venal in the sense that she would bend circumstances to suit her own end he was quite aware. And how would this affect her ? Possibly in many ways, and that she would feel it incumbent on her to seek other shelter where the mouth of scandal would not blow. And before he got into bed he had, with characteristic energy, fully resolved that he would marry her, if she would have him.

It is true the obstacle of an existing wife presented itself to his mind, and he felt bound to admit that there would possibly be some difficulty in obtaining the consent of the woman he had so cruelly wronged to an arrangement to benefit himself. But still — it was not his wife nlone who was dependent on him ; many others lived only without parish relief at his pleasure. He would bring the screw to bear on all of them. As to difficulties in the Divorce Court itself he gave them no weight ; he knew to what a degree of laxity these courts, in our day, have descended ; that a case in them is a game of cards with four aces up your sleeve, or of hide and-seek for the inconvenient witnesses ; and he had the profoundest faith in fat figures outside a brief. He knew perfectly well that a straightforward, common-sense view of these WEAVER' S SHUTTLE. 6 cases was always in the inverse ratio of the learning which was supposed to distinguish the legal luminaries employed on them, and that, if there were only sufficient Q.C.'s or M.P.'s amongst them, no line of attack or defence would be considered too preposterous.

Such cogitations as these finally landed him in bed, all arising from the unforeseen circum stance that Norton had had his ribs stove in in the wild rushing waters of an American river. As to Madame Artaki when she awoke she knew that a crisis had come in her life — and that it would behove her to play certain cards that day which would win or lose her this particular game at least. She leant over the still sleeping Rosalie, whose lids, heavy with tears that had fallen in her sleep, told a sorrowful tale and bespoke a sad awakening — and looked long and wistfully at her. But Herœa was not one to cast stones ; she felt a deep commiseration for the frail mis guided girl, and rose with a resolve to help her. In her own room she found a note from Romeyn, asking her to see him when she felt disposed.

It was already noon. So after refreshing herself with a plunge in her deep cold bath, and adorning herself with becoming grace and care, she adjourned to that sanctum whose threshold few were ever permitted to cross, and, tapping at the door, received a summons to enter. About this room there was all the air of cultivated luxury which marks the surroundings of wealth, wedded to taste and a love of books, a few costly statuettes placed where his eye could fall on them, — things loved for themselves and their beauty of form, not ornaments to fill a niche, — and amongst them an excellent reduc tion of the Venus, of Milo, standing in the place of honour. As she entered the room, Madame Artaki perceived at once that there was a deep pre occupation in Romeyn's manner. He drew a large morocco leather chair up for her in close proximity to his own from which he had just risen, and then, as if with a second thought, placed a foot-stool under her feet.

The high bred grace and courtesy of his manner, so rough and overbearing when it pleased him — could not fail to strike a woman accustomed to, but missing in London, these marks of WEA VER'S SHUTTLE. 8 attention ; and she felt that the pure strain of his ancestry had not degenerated on the wild sheep runs in distant New Zealand. She noted, too, that his face, in spite of its in flexible hardness and immovability, was cer tainly softened, though still a mask covering a mind of no ordinary calibre, as resolute as adamant. And now how changed were their positions since last night ! that is, in the degree of intimacy in which they stood to each other. For Rosalie's disaster had drawn them strangely close, and each felt that at that moment the same idea was crossing both their minds. Before, it had merely been that he openly professed an admiration for her, which he carefully preserved from allowing to become compromising ; she, outwardly to him, was a woman whom chance had thrown in his way, — a wonderful woman certainly, but, still, altogether out of his orbit.

On the other hand, she herself had already decided she would marry him if human ingenuity could compass it ; but with only one reservation as to modes to be adopted, that she would not burn her boats behind her. Possibly he might, she thought, have been living on in the hope that after Rosalie's marriage they would both be freer to do as they pleased ; or he might have thought that she would have become too wedded to the life of luxury with which he now sur rounded her to be willing to relinquish it. But now, all this was altered ; Rosalie's marriage with Norton was no longer in the calcula tion, whilst, at the same time, Herœa's own machinations had completely overflown their mark. All this passed rapidly through her mind 'as she sat down in the seat he had placed for her, and for the space of a few moments neither of them spoke.

" You must be tired," he said. " Last night must have wearied you sorely, both in body and mind." "No, I am not tired; but this sad affair — you know I speak the truth when I say how deeply I feel for her — and for you," she adds, in a lower tone. " You think, then, there can be no doubt as to the relationship they stood in nor — nor the — the contingencies? " says he, searching about for a mode to put the awkward question. " None. In my mind not a vestige of doubt. Indeed, she has confessed it." " My poor little Rosalie! " he says tenderly, and Herœa looks up scarcely able to believe it is Romeyn talking. Then he goes on. " It is useless to rail at this villain ; he has gone to his long home. Possibly, too, he meant no harm ; on the north side of the Tweed he would legally have done no harm if he had turned up years hence, and had con doned the offence, for our morals are all a matter of geography.

I should like to know all about his death, though, if you have any further details " " I have some particulars, I will read the letter, and explain what I can. But, first, I want to set matters right as to myself. I sent Norton out — as you are perfectly aware — I wanted to carry through this oil affair, be cause I must have money to live on, and of two evils I chose promoting a company as the lesser." " Against that I can say nothing," he replies. " I am perfectly aware of what you mean." »> " I was confident you did — that you understood the difficult position I am in. Anyhow, this affair is undoubtedly sound. Norton would have made a very considerable sum, and all might have gone well." " But I may surely ask, why did you not ask me, instead of Norton, to help you ? I would have willingly done so."

" I had reasons I cannot explain," she says, with some embarrassment. " I beg your pardon," he says. " If I appeared inquisitive " " No, not at all ; but again, I had reasons which I weighed well, and having weighed them, I asked Norton to go. Here is the account of his death from Mr. Ballard, the American, who came over here about the property. Arrived in New York, Norton had gone off at once to Chicago with Mr. Ballard, and from thence to inspect the property, which lay farther west. Norton had seen it, and had written a favourable report, which Ballard encloses. Then Norton particularly wished to see a cattle-ranche, and this is what Mr. Ballard writes : ' I took him to one not far from the oil-well property. Here Norton joined the "cow-boys" in getting a number of cattle across the river.

The cattle took to "milling," and Norton was drowned amongst them. To explain the term "milling," the cow-boys take the cattle across in "bunches" of twenty-five to thirty at a time. Something on the opposite bank suddenly frightens the beasts when they may be midway across, or on the point of getting out on to the bank, or sometimes one beast gets swirled round in the rushing water, and the others get alarmed. They then all begin swimming around wild with fright ; hence the term milling. The "Cow-boys" plunge in, either on horseback or themselves swimming, and by shouting and hauling at the beasts' tails endeavour to make them head for the bank. In the meanwhile, men and cattle are being borne down by the river, a struggling mass, often amidst blocks of ice. Then the boys have a bad time, and your young friend, who would insist on going in, had a bad time too, and got drowned ; got caught in some cotton-wood snags pro jecting from the bank, just as a large bull came booming along at the rate of knots, and got jammed up against those snags, and that was how bis ribs got stove in, — Norton's I mean, not the bull's — and then he just sank right away.

After the cattle was out the boys searched a bit for him, but couldn't find him. I am sorry for him, for he seemed a kinder light-hearted chap and game too; but he has written a first-rate report, and naturally his death is nobody's fault but his own. But I'm thinking his death may cast a kinder romance like over these oil-wells, and perhaps some remarks to that effect might be made in your prospectus, which are most dull reading.' " " Poor devil ! " says Romeyn as she finished reading. " So, that is the end of him." "Yes; that is his end. How much better may be ours ? But about Rosalie — let us talk about her. She is utterly broken down. Therefore, we must act — we must decide what we are to do." " That is true ; but have you thought of anything? for I know how quick you are to work out your ideas."

" I have partly formed a plan. It has nothing original in it. It is the old expedient : to find some one who will marry her." " I have thought of that already myself," says Romeyn ; " but I have utterly failed to think of a single man I know who could be induced to marry on such short notice. Except Haycock I don't know one ; and he is going to marry some one with money, I am told." "Well, I think I could find one, and one who would suit in all respects; for I myself hold his life in the palm of my hand." " Good heavens ! you amaze me!" says Romeyn, leaning forward on the arms of his chair. " He must be a criminal. He must have done something very bad ! What do you mean ? " " I mean that he has got himself involved in an affair which I alone know of. I literally hold his life in my hands ; but before I go farther I will say what I think about the position as regards Rosalie herself.

She is easily per suaded — easily led. She will listen to me when I point out the advantages of doing as you wish — that is, when you do wish this to be done. The idea of a sudden marriage will be altogether shocking and repellent ; but this shall be only a marriage at the altar. I will take care that she is subjected to no kind of annoyance ; her husband shall bid her goodbye at the church door, and never see her again unless at her own request. I have thought out the whole plan, even to the settle ment. On her I would ask you to settle whatever you chose to give her, totally and entirely free from all control of anyone ; and I would ask you to give her husband a sum of money down on the day of the wedding, and to arrange that a small annuity be paid him as long as he gives no trouble. The day he is married I shall commit the secret I hold to Rosalie, to be used by her if he annoys her.

He is a man who can be ruled by fear. To you I shall explain all before everything is settled. Now tell me, what do you think of this ? " "I think that it does much credit to your ingenuity," he replies, as he leans back in his chair, and brings his hands together. "But are you not overrating your influence over this man ? for you would certainly be exacting from him a severe act of self-denial." " I do not think I am, nor would you if you knew all ; and as I am determined that you and I understand each other, Mr. Romeyn, I will go on and tell you all, and who he is. But first — do not start — it is Gould." " Gould ! " says Romeyn gravely. " This is indeed serious, reflect for one moment what he is and, may I say it ? what he has been to you ? " " I have reflected, long and seriously. As to the last part of your remark, I think I need hardly say that I am above reproach, though perhaps not above suspicion.

I have already said he has never been anything to me. That he loves me with the whole force of his coarse and brutish nature, I know, and you are aware of; but I have always kept him at bay. His wife is lately dead, — died under peculiar cir cumstances, and he is now free. This you may easily imagine will not, or has not, in any way decreased this violent love for me, and but for the new hold I have obtained over him, would have put me in a position almost of peril. But that necessitates a further confidence on my part, and this, Mr. Romeyn, I tell you, trusting to your honour. Years ago Gould had a secret of mine ; he has kept it faithfully, because he always thought I would some time or other be his. Now he is free ; and yet, if I had to die in a ditch to-morrow, nothing should induce me to become his wife."

"But, surely, that is very inconsistent with the idea that he should marry Rosalie ? " " No, not so much as it appears. If he married me it would be a marriage in every sense, he would live with me ; but if he marries Rosalie I will take care he does not annoy her. It is simply to decide whether we must find some one to marry her, or let things take their chance." " Perfectly, I admit you are right, but this man ? Is he criminal in the true sense ? I don't mean merely a rascal — but a criminal." " He is not. I have known him for years. His hands have never been as clean as they should be, no doubt, and he did some time ago commit a fault I have determined shall be re dressed." "But why, may I ask, are you so urgent? For I too must be plain, for much is involved in this decision." " I am urgent because I want him out of my path," she says, looking him straight in the face, whilst the power of her eyes seems to scorch his soul.

"You are a brave woman," he replies; " you are not easily put aside. But come, I vol. 111. must have time to reflect. I will give no definite answer until I have weighed it all." " I did not wish to force your decision now, for there are other matters on which this marriage would be contingent. Now, this other is a matter that neither you nor I, Mr. Romeyn, can with any semblance of reason or fairness to either of us — to me especially — push aside any longer." " Herœa," he says, rising and coming near her, "you have given me the opportunity of saying what has been on my lips for many and many a long day. The scene last night has precipitated all these matters, and I know well how changed is everything between us. I have resolved to speak once and for all and as an honest man to you. Have you ever heard this ?

They are the words of a very wise man, Esdras. ' Yea, and if men have gathered together gold and silver or any other goodly thing, do they not love a woman which is comely and fair to see ? And letting all these things go, do they not fix their eyes fast on her ? ' I am one of those men, literally. I have fourfold more gold comes to me every year than I spend, and I deny myself nothing, nor those either who agree with me, and every day this wealth goes on increasing. Only last mail I heard of a new township being created on my own private property. Well, it is not to vaunt of my riches, but to draw a parallel between myself and the men of Esdras. Now, to possess you, as you sit there before me, I would let all these things go ! You have grown to be the desire of my eyes. I am too old a man, near on twice your age, to make it decent for me to say all the things that crowd to my lips.

I simply say that I love you dearer than all the world. But Fate has been less kind to me than to Gould, though I shudder from expressing such a thought. I mean that he is better off than I, for I cannot offer you at once the position which would alone become you. But I have, too, been making plans, and these are de pendent on you. I have only one thing to ask you. If I were free, would you marry me ? I speak abruptly ; but I cast the die of all my hopes in life in saying this to you." She rises and walks a step or two towards the window, as if seeking time to collect her thoughts. Then she turns and sees how fixed and earnest are his eyes as they follow her. "Before I answer your plain question," she begins slowly, " I must explain something more of myself. You will believe me when I say I have never, in all my life, felt a great passion for any human being.

My husband I hated before I had known him a week ; and of all the lovers who have hung round me not one has touched my heart. But I could come to love a man whom I trusted and looked up to. I could love him and be faithful to him. And if he could marry me, and make me rich and power ful, and give me everything that is worth having in this world, I would marry him. Now, I go one step nearer your question. All these qualities I believe you to possess — but " " Ah ! but I well suppose I solemnly promise that that ' but' shall no longer be admissible ; suppose I succeed in obtaining a divorce " She turns and comes near him, and places her hand on his arm. " When you have that, then I will give you my final answer." " But, for God's sake, can you not tell me now ? " he says passionately. " Have you the faintest idea of what your promise would be ? your promise now ?

" (and he takes both her hands and gazes longingly into her eyes). " Give me only that promise, and you shall stay on with us here. Let the world wag its tongue. I swear to you, you shall go your own free way until I may ask you to be mine in reality. Speak, Herœa, for my heart is craving for your reply." Her hands close their hold on his, she looks up into those bold handsome eyes whose lustre his fifty summers have done nothing to dim. From his eyes her looks wander to his iron-grey curls in a broad cluster behind his ears, to the sharp, straight nose and curling nostrils, and to the mouth, which, even now, waiting for a decision which is of the utmost importance to him, is not less firm than that of the great Napoleon, as in Canova's wondrous marble, he looks down on them from a niche above.

The long look seems to satisfy her. " I will be your wife," she says in a simple but earnest tone. Instantly his arms encircle her waist, her lips are lifted to his ; he is twenty again, as he presses her to his ardent heart. WEAVER' S SHUTTLE. 22 "Listen to me, my love," he says, still holding her close to him, "I cannot find words to tell you what this is to me. I have been a solitary traveller, in one sense, but if that divine statue there, the Venus of Milo, awoke to life and came to me, I could not feel more amazed than I am now. I do not expect you to say you love me. That were utterly impossible ; but I will try and win what love you can give me. I will do my utmost to change my nature, to get over my rugged acrimonious carping cynicism, and with you to help me I shall. You will be a new life to me, your breath my afflatus for better things."

" I am very content to live in the hope of being your wife, Arthur. I will not profess feelings that have not yet grown, but, — will you not believe me if I say I am sure they will?" " God knows how willingly, how eagerly I shall believe it. But I do not wish to leave a single matter in doubt between us," he adds in an altered key. " Sit down here by my side, and I will tell you how I think things should be. In the first place, and naturally, you will not think of leaving us ? " " That is a matter I must think of, whether pleasant or unpleasant to us both. How can I stay when Rosalie goes? " " How can I lose you ! " he says, almost fiercely. " Am I to lose sight of you for all the weary months that must elapse — possibly an entire year, — before I can obtain this divorce ? " "And why not? Would you be afraid of your own love waxing faint, or of my promise being broken ?

" " Oh heaven ! do not talk like that ! My love will remain with me to my grave ; but you — just think ! just picture to yourself all the temptations, all the opportunities that will come before you ! Think how I should suffer all those long, long months ! No, my love, we must arrange things differently to that." "But I thought that these were your terms?" she says, with something almost of coldness in her tone. "I did -I did, but so help me heaven I hardly knew what my terms meant. I see it all now. Will you not allow me to modify them, to propose something less like death to me?" WEA VER'S SHUTTLE. 24 " I hardly know what you could," she says, still with a voice that chills him. "/do," he says rather bitterly. "But if I only venture to mention these terms, may I not see my whole fabric shattered ?