The Gambler's wife : or, Murder will out

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THE GAMBLERS WIFE; OR, MURDER WILL OUT. BY THE AUTHOR OP « THE ORDEAL BY TOUCH }" " THE IRON MASK ;" " THE A8SAS9INS OF THE CAVERN;" &C f Oh I tell me not to ease my heart with tears— Tears cannot reach a grief so deep as mine t Let others weep ; and with their tears wash out The lesser sorrows : mine are all dried up !— Old Play. Hon&on : fRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY E. LLOYD, SALISBURY-SQUARE, FLEET-STREET. Uovd's Weeklv '-ondon Newspaper is Enlarged to Sisty Enormous Columns— no extra THE GAMBLER'S WIFE; OR, MURDER WILL OUT: BY THE AUTHOR OF THE " ORDEAUBY TOUCH," " THE IRON MASK," &C> No. 1. - 2

Chapter I. The Brazen Mask

— THE SPANISH DAGGER.— THE GUEST'S MURDER.— THE RETURN TO THE GAMING-TABLE. Silence, sad and solitary-no one to cheer her-no one to utter to her one kind word-no friendly voice to greet her ears— nq Hind face witbthe soft, beaming expression of tenderness to meet her gaze ; but all dreary, blank, and desolate, sits the Gamblers Wife. Her head rests on her hands; her infant slumbers ; '.he clock has already struck the hour of two. _'____. • _,- .• ..... Tbe room in which she sits is one of large dimensions. There were indications, too, about it, that it had once been of elegant and rich aspect, as regards its furnishing and decorations: but all is faded. The portable articles of comfort or of luxury have been one by one taken from it, and nothing remains but Ihose embellishments which cannot well be converted into money.

One table a child's cot, and two miserable chnirs, compose the moveable furniture now of that apartment, which has seen within its prednets the gay, the rich, and the beautiful ; that apartment which has rung with the laugh of light-hearted revelry, in which strains of sweet spirit stirring, joyous music, have floated in Ihe air j and in which a beautiful wife slept the calm sleep of innocence and joy. Alas! how changed now is everything ' Where now, are those little indications of a happy household, which were wont to present themselves to the eye of every one who set foot across the threshold of that house? Who now ever heais the happy, careless laugh from an unburthened spirit, in the now deserted apartments? But let us look at her whom we have named tbe Gambler s Wife. Alas, for her, poor thing, that we should be compelled to give her such a title I She is young, and she is beautiful.

Nay, the very bloom of girlhood still lingers on lier cheek; her figure is light and graceful; her hair dark, and iallinff in massive folds upon her shoulders ; while the small hands upon which rests her fevered brow, are white as ivory. She rocks gently to and fro. Perhaps she still fancies she is endeavouring to soothe her child to sleep, although it lies for a time serene and quiet in its cot, a stranger to its mother's miseries. But hark— she speaks I "Oh heaven' and has it come to this? Is this, in truth, the climax to my day dreams' of happiness ? Oh, God! oh, God! when will all this end? But one year since, and I was happy— one short year ! The sweet flowers that adorn the fair summer time,' have not blown again, ere I was happy. What am I now? Where, now, is all the long-continued joy which I told myself was surely mine ?

My child, too— that dear little one, who yet has but for two short months opened its sweet eyes to the light of day. Must that gift of God perish? Oh, no— no— nol he will come back to us — he must come back to us. Some angel of good will yet whisper in his ear better counsels, and I shall look upon his face again. Hush— hush! Is— that his step? Yes— yes— ()l,i is it is. He comes — husband — Harry — dear Harry — 'tis he. Hush ! — no — God, no't The footstep passes on, and I am desolate again !" She once more relapsed into the attitude of woe which an expectation of the arrival, of her husband had roused her from, and her dejection seemed more intense than before ; for she now gave utterance to low moans of anguish, and what she said was for a time Scarcely articulate. At length, tears — bitter, scalding teats, came to her relief, and then, When that burst of feeling was over, she spoke again. ' " He wooed me, and he won me. i knew not what love was until he came and whispered the soft, soul-enchanting word in my ears.

Yes, he won me; he taught me to love him ; he taught me to centre in him my whole hopes of earthly happiness; and what has been my reward? A blighted heart — a wasted frame; agony beyond all com parison. Oh, what will be the end of this? What is that? His knock? Yes.it must be. Hush! hush I Do not move, my child. It must — it must be he. Your father comes at last. Welcome, welcome ! I hear his foot upon the stair. There is ilusic in the sound. 'Tis he ! God of Heaven! no, it is not he !" A footstep did ascend the staircase ; for it was in a house let off in different suites of chambers that they lived, that gambler and his wife ; and now she gave herself up despair, for the clock had struck three, and there seemed to be no prospect of any return of her husband. He had parted from her wilh taunts — taunts from him to her, because she wuuld have warned him from a course which was destroying him.

The child still slept. That was a mercy ! Yes, the beautiful child lay still in its couch, breathing gently, and little dreaming of the sadness at iis poor lone mother's heart. She rose and paced the room ; she wiung her hands in agony; she dashed away ihe tear drops that ever and anon clustered in her eyes, and then, as she was about to speak, there came another footstep on the stairs. She flew to the door and listened. The footstep came nearer— nearer still ; but she would not this time tell herself lhat it was her husband's. She dreaded to awaken, at she had done before, a hope which would have but to be quenched again. That would be too horrible, and so she did not speak. Nearer, nearer slill came ihe footstep ; and now it pauses, and there is a low tap upon the door. To open it with frantic baste mas ihe work of a moment and she rxclaimetl— "Henry, Hemy, is thia you?

You have thought better of it, and come back to sne. You have repented "of the idle w 01 ds y ou spoke, Henry. You bave come lo me— Ah I it is not he!" A strange man, of sinister-looking aspect, and whose countenance was adorned with a hoirible squint, stood on the theshbold of the door ; and although, in consequence of his Obliquity of vision, he seemed to be regarding some object on the staircase, he was in reality glaring at Jane Hoffenden, for that was her name, with all his might, while his lips were curled into a most hideous leer. " So my pretty one," he said, " you are still alone." Jane at once made an effort to' close the door ; but tbe stranger's foot was across the threshold, and she could not do so, although she tried Ker utmost strength. " Ha, ha !" he said, ** it won't do. I have come to see you and to speak to you.

It won't do. I will say what I have come to say." "Begone. My cries shall find me assistance. Begone, I say, begone. Help!" "Psha! Do you think, now, I care for your cries ? Look at me, and ask yourself ifl am the likely man to do so. Besides, I bring you news of your husband." " Of my husband !" exclaimed Jane, shrinking back, so that tl:e stranger had a free passage into the room ; "of my husband! Oh, what of h'm — speak your message, quickly — speak. No — no harm has come to him? (Jh, relieve my fears." " All in good time," said the unprepossessing individual, as he turned and closed the door alter bim; " all in good time. J have seen bim wiibin this half hour, madam, and as I thought you would (eel lonely, I theught I would come and bestow a little of my good company upon you." '- Insolent !"

" Nay, nay, wait a bit; you don't know who you are speaking about, yet. You don't seem to be very luxuriously situated here. Ah, Harry Hoffenden was drinking cham pagne when I left him. Ha, ha ! the poor dupe ; he was winning a little, and though it would last. Well, I can find a chair for myself, although there ain't much choice, ma dam. One a piece lor us, I see. Come, now, be seated, and I will soon explain my errand, and tbere will be no bones broken if we don't agree about it." " This intrusion, " said Jane, trembling, for she was fearful of the man, an*.l he kept between her and the door, so that there was very little chance of escape ; "this intrusion is most unjustifiable. Leave me, I implore you ; leave me, oh, leave me ! There is misery enough here without your adding lo it. I know not who or what yoa are, but I implore you to leave me !"

"What! leave you, after taking all the trouble I have to find you out? Oh, no, I couldn't think of it; and as lo knowing who and what I am, you shall soon do that. Listen to me, Jane Hoffenden. I knew you by sight before you were married, and I loved-you. You start, because you never heaid of it; but I will tell you why you never heard of ii. You were surrounded by gay young sparks, who were breathing all sorts of flatteries in your ears. I knew you would marry one of them, most likely (he worst : and what chance then had I, although I did love you with a love that they, in their com mon, cold, every-day natures, were incapable of feeling." " I do not want to hear this — I ought not to hear it." "But you must. Destiny has now settled that the time has come when I can plead my suit: you must hear me, Jane, and you shall.

We met once " " Ah, I do remember, now ; your face met my eyes for a moment, and — and " " And you were terrified, I remember well. A young party of friends were out together; you strayed a little, I was watching you, and suddenly appeared before you. I put on what I intended for a look of affection ; you fled in affright, and I heard you tell your friends that a strange man, one of the ugliest you had ever seen, had been making faces at you." " I did— I did." "Well, from that moment I vowed that you should be mine. It is your destiny; I knew and felt that it was then. It is your fate ; you shall be mine, Jane, you shall be mine; for, as I then loved you, I love you stilt : and I should fancy, now, that you have shaken off some of the romance of your disposition, and know better how to appreciate a man of my many attractions."

The hideous countenance that he put on was beyond all description, and Jane knew not what to do to get rid of so unwelcome an intruder. She hoped, and yet she dreaded her husband's return from his gambling orgies, for she knew his violent implicable tem per, and that murder might ensue. " Leave me," she cried ; " once more I ask you to leave me. And, if you have any pretensions to the character of a gentleman, you will not let me ask in vain. I am an other's ; and, let the conduct of that other be what it may, it affords no sort of justifica tion to you for this [visit. I^'now you not — I do not wish to know you, and I will not know you." "Hard words. But let me tell you how I came to think of you. You have a cousin named Andrew Ewert. It was he, boy as he was, who first painted you to my imagination in all your charms."

" Anderw ?'' "Yes. He loved you. But he was too much of a boy to tell you so. He Went abroad, and died. Ha! ha!" " Alas ! another tie is broken. And Andrew loved me ?" " He did ; but what's the use of a dead man's love? I am here and living, ready to love you well and truly as I always have loved you. I tell you it is your destiny to be mine, and you cannot avoid it. It must, it will be so; it's of no use for anybody to fight against their fate." " Such an argument," said Jane, with more of scorn and loathing in her manner than she had yet exhibited, " has no power ; I blame myself much for holding so long a converse with you, and I shall command you to begone." "You command!" " Yes ; as I have a right to do here, beneath my husband's roof, in his absence. Dread his vengeance for this insult upon me, and carry it no further."

" Indeed ! and you thus speak of the man who has virtually deserted you— who is a' this moment'at the gambling table ; while you and your child are left here, for all he cares, to starve ? This is the man whom you defend, and whom you t?lk of as your protector. Ha ! ha ! fine words ; but your own heart tells you the fallacy of them. You fcnow that you are but making an attempt to elevate a man, who cannot be elevated, into something that he has no pretensions to. Your husband is not your protector." Jane was compelled to hold by the side of the child's cot for support. There was a dreadful truth in the words that were thus uttered by the stranger ; a truth which she could not bat, to herself, admit, however humiliating it was for her 4o do so. But she would not seem so to barter awaj her husband's honour; but was upon the point of putting an end to the painful interview by calling for assistance, when the in truder suddenly stepped towards her, and throwing his arms around her, exclaimed " You are mine.

No power on earth shall, or can prevent you from being mine ; I have long loved you, Jane!" " To be foiled at last, villain as you are !" exclaimed a voice, and at the same moment the door was dashed open, and a young man rushed into the apartment, and clutched the stranger by the throat, with a vehemence that threatened his immediate strangulation " To be but foiled at last, villain!" he repeated; "and now you shall have the reward of all your base tieachery towards me." " My cousin Andrew !" exclaimed Jane. " Ob, thank God for this deliveiance." The ugly intruder, who thus was suddenly pounced upon by one whom he believed to be dead, seemed to be absolutely paralysed by the suddenness of the event, which was, perhaps, the one of all others which was farthest away from his thoughts; and for a few moments he shook like a reed in his antagonist's grasp.

Speak, probably, he could not, in consequence of the gripe upon bis throat, whicii ihe other kept ; but he soon recovered himself sufficiently to make some resistance and disengaging one of his hands, he plunged it into his breast, and drew out a long, sharp, double-edged, foreign-looking dagger, which glistened in the faint rays of the candle-light. Jane saw the action, and, nerved by despair and dread, that Andiew Ewert would meet his death from his generous attempt to save her, she flung herself between them, and clung so heavily to the villain's arm, that he could not strike the blow he intended. By a sudden snatch at its hilt, then, Andrew disarmed him of the dagger, and flung it to the ground ; and then the whole effort of his antagonist seemed to be directed towards an escape. Whirling and struggling in each other's grasp, they reached the head of the staircase ; but as Andrew Ewert had never let go his original grasp wholly, he had an advantage, and by a sudden effort he succeeded in flinging the villain backward down the staircase, which he descended with a loud cry of terror.

Andrew, himself tottered on the brink for a moment, and it was only by suddenly flinging himself backward on the landing, that ke saved himself from falling. " Thank God ! thank God I" exclaimed Jane, and she sunk on her knees by the side of the child's cot, and held her clasped hands up to Heaven in thankfulness and prayer. The tumult had awakened the infant, who, by its cries, added to the confusion of the scene ; and faint, pale, and exhausted by the efforts he had been compelled to make for his own preservation, Andrew Eweit rose and tottered into the room again. His wish wis to have pursued the ruffian, whom he knew well ; but he found himself quite incapable of doing so, and he was compelled to be satisfied w.th the amount of punishment he had inflicted upon him by casting him down the staircase.

Chapter II. The Explanation

— THE GAMBLER'S RETUNN. For several minutes now, in the apartment which had been the scene of so much con fusion and uproar, there was a silence as of the very grave itself. The child had ceased its cries, and composed itself to sleep again. The young mother was praying still, but uttering no sounds ; for hers was lhat prayer which comes gushing from the heart too quickly to be clothed in words, and Andrew Ewert was drawing breath after his rapid and fearful encounter with one who most unquestionably would have taken his life if he could have done so. And if he had been in a condition to speak, he was not the one to interrupt Jane ia her present occupation, and he sank upon the chair so recently vacated by the ugly stranger, feasting his eyes with the sight of that being whom he really loved so ten derly, and whom he had not now beheld lor the space of two years.

At length Jane had sufficiently recovered herself to speak : and, turning to Andrew Ewert, she held out both her hands to him, exclaiming — _ " Oh ! Andrew, what do I not owe to you for thus saving ire from a villain ! " Yiia owe me nothing, Jane. I — lought not. perhaps, now to call you Jane." '* fes, Andrew. Call me by the old, familiar name you were wont to address me by when we were boy and girl together. Ob, what a world of sadness have I gone through, Andrew, since last we met. "And I, Jane— and I— I heard that you were married, and God knows I b?Pe? that you would be happy! I became the victim of that man whom I was this night nappy enough to rescue you from. He persuaded roe that he would get me a place on Boara a merchant-vessel; but, instead of lhat, I found myself sold to a piratical vessel. is needless to tell you all I have suffered, and how I escaped back again from the coast ot Morocco to England ; but, as good fortune would have it, I met the rascal to-night, anu followed him."

"Oh, wbat a hanpy chance!" " But, Jane, is it indeed true what I bave now heard,— that you are united to one who prefers the gaming-table to the charms of home with thee? Can it be possible . Alas— alas ! you need not answer me in words. That averted face, dear Jane, and that sigh spoke too plainly the truth of such a proposition!" " It— it is true, Andrew," she said, and she burst into tears. It is too — too true!" . He was deeply affected, and at the moment a wild thought crosses his brain that sne would be much happier to fly wilh him, and lorsake the man who showed how little calculated he was to appreciate the bright jewel he had won. But as this thought grew into something like a tangible shape he glanced towards the cot in whicii the child was sleeping, and that sight at once brought him to himself, and dissipated the vision.

"Jane— Jane !" he cried ; " do not weep. Your tears each fall like drops of molten lead upon my heart. Do not despair, but still have a hope that happier days may come." " Nev«r — never — never '." " Nay, say not so. Your husband may see the mad folly of the souise he is pursuing and amend his mode of life. Have you any idea what impulse it was that first drove him to so desperate a resource as the gaming table ?" " I cannot tell. All is mystery lo me. I know nothing but that for six months we were too — too happy, and then a change took place, and lie became what he is. Whether it be that he has evil counsellors, or that, as I sometimes suspect, that there is a something upon his mind whicii requires mad excitement, such as the gaming-table can alone brine lo him, to stifle the thoughts of, — I cannot tell.

But the effect is terrific! Ruin, irretrievable ruin stares us in the face. Nothing can save us now. Nothing nothing 1" " Yes, Jane ; I can save you, and I will, I must see, and conveise with your husband ; and by, perhaps convincing him that I have the means of extricating him from any pecuniary difficulties, I may induce him to alter his course of life completely." " And — and — is it possible there can be so much generosity 1" " Do not call it by such a name ; but if I should succeed in doing anything that may be of service to you, say thai it is done from a grateful recollection of many a happy hour spent in your society, dear Jane. That is the feeling that will prompt me to do my best." " Oh, Andrew ! if, indeed, you should be successful, what shall I not owe you ! The devotion of a life would be too little to repay you.

I rove him still ; and if he but be reclaimed from the evil way into which he has fallen, we might yet be happy." " And you shall, dear Jane. By an accident of fortune, which at some future time I will relate to you, I am rich, Jane, and can convince your husband of the policy of quit ting the gaming-table ; and when once the spell is broken which his constant visits to it have lliiowu around him, without doubt he will acqujie better habits." " These are htpeful words !" " Oh, Jane ! I saw, even now, something like the shadow of one of your old smiles flit across your face. You will, you must be happy ; while I — but forgive me — oh, forgive me for this slight allusion to myself I I — I meant it not, Jane — I meant it not." The look of hopefulness vanished from the face of Jane, as she now suddenly recol lected what ihe insolent stranger had said about the state of Andrew's affections, and she could well understand the sort of struggle that was going on in his breast, and the great amount of virtue and self-denial he ptaclised in talking of taking steps to make her happy with o-ie who had plucked the fair flower he would himself have wished to wear lor ever in his heart of hearts.

Anditw," she said, gently—" Andrew." c i ' Speak on, Jane. Your voice reminds me of old times, when we were children, and so very, very happy." " Yes, Andrew; but the past must be forgotten, and we must only remember that we estsem eaeh other, and that, with the pure and holy love of brother and sister, we will and may, in the sight of Heaven, regard each other." " You are right — you are right." " By no word, look, or action, shall a reproach he founded; and we shall be able to call down God's blessing upon us, Andrew — shall we not?" "Yes — yes," he gasped. " You are my better spirit, Jane, and one word from you will suffice to chase from my heart all dark and unholy thoughts. As dear kindred, we will feel for each other the affections of kindred, and, so far as it is possible for me to do so, I will strive to turn your husband from his pith of misery."

Jane stooped over the child to conceal her tears, and kissed its soft cheek, while Andrew stole a hasty glance round the room, and, with a sigh, witnessed the desolation of its aspect. He saw what once had been, and what was now; and then he wished to ask a question which he instinctively shrank from putting to his cousin ) and that was, if the gamester had left her in want or not ? It was a strange hour in the morning, too — nearly four — and he knew not whether to wait until Henry Hoffenden should come home, or go away and trust to meeting him at some more seasonable hour. The latter question was, however, solved by Jane, who looked up and said — "I know not when he may return ; but this is about his time. There is a couch in yonder apartment, whese you can rest, Andrew. I will watch, and when he comes 1 will tell him who is here, which will prevent any misconstruction on his part— that is to say — if — if " " If what, Jane?" *' If he be sober enough to listen.

But should you hear him in a state which prohibits the possibility of his hearing reason, Andrew, let me pray you to leave, and return some fewbours hence. You will find another door from your room opening upon the staircase, and you can go at once, and he need not know of your most innocent visit; but if he shall come home heated with wine, there no knowing what mad-brained jealousy might take possession of his faculties upon finding you here.'' "Alas ! my poor, poor Jane," said Andrew, " the more I hear of the man to whom you have yoked yourself for life, the more I dread that he will be proof against all per suasion to a better course." "We will hope," said Jane, faintly; but it was very faintly indeed. Andrew Ewert did not press this theme more ; but lie approached the cot in which lay the slumbering infant, and, as he looked in its face, he said, in a tone of voice as much as if he were speaking to himself as addressing her— " And this, Jane, is your child V "Yes, Andrew; I ought not certainly to give away so much as I do to despairin & thoughts, ought I, whde I have this little one to comfort me?

Oh! how happy we migh* be, if Harry would but forget that dreadful gaming-house, which has come between him and a better nature. You do not know him, Andrew ; and in your mind you may con demn him, as I can indeed hardly wonder at your doing ; but he is not all so bad as be appears. There are good thoughts and good feelings in his nature, which like rare flowers in a neglected garden, still hold possession of the earth, although nearly hidden from human observation by clustering weeds. You will yet 1 ho^e, Andrew, have reason to feel that my choice has not been altogether a heedless one." " I can, at all events," said Andrew, " feel that he has a treasure, even if he knows not its value." Jane sighed, and a tear glistened in her eye as Andrew stooped and kissed the child. She knew that that kiss was a pure and holy one, and that it came from the lips that had never been profaned by falsehood or deceit.

" I will leave you as you desire," said Andrew. " I am myself much fatigued, Jane ; but I will not, if I can help it, sleep ; and should your husband return and be in any state that can enable me to speak to him, I shall, I hope, be able to do so effectually ; or do you think I had better seek him ?" " Alas ! I know not where to direct you to find him." " Then there is no resource. It is a strange thing, Jane, but, when I was abroad, a man, who had a great repute as a conjuror and fortuneteller, prophesied that something very important and very dangerous would happen to me on the second day of September. " Indeed !" "Yes; and it has happened. The danger was, no doubt, from the dagger of that ruffian, concerning whom I will tell you some strange particulars at another time; and the important event will, I hope, be the reformation of your husband."