Democratic Sentinel, Volume 22, Number 30, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1898 — A Dangerous Secret. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A Dangerous Secret.

By FLORENCE MARYATT.

CHAPTER V. Mr. William Moray, knocking at the door of his brother’s lodgings, at about eight o’clock the same evening, is received by Mrs. Timson with a face of such portentous gravity that he is fain to observe it. “Anything the matter?" he inquires, curiously. “Matter enough,” is the answer. “I’ve kept a lodging ’ouse now, on and off. for the last two-and-thirty year, hut never in all my horned days did I ’ave such a disgraceful scene on my premises as took place ’ere last night.” Then she tells him the whole story, winding up with the statement that Delia’s left her husband. Almost before she finishes Mr. Moray has reached the third landing. He turns the handle of his brother’s door and walks in. James is seated at the table, only partially sober, with his head bov. ed down upon his outstretched arms. “Hulloa!" exclaims William Moray, “why, what’s the matter now,-Jem? The old woman down stairs has been giving me a garbled account of your wife having run away from you—but it isn’t true, surely?” “Cursed if I know,” rejoins the other. “She ain’t here—that’s very certain.” “How did it happen? Tell me all about it.” “I don’t know how it happened. She aggravated me to that extent last night that she drove me to take a drop more than was good for toe, I snppose, and 1 didn’t wake till this afternoon, tTnd then she had been gone for hours—so the old cat tells me.” “She can’t intend to remain away ” “Can’t say, Pm sure! I think she threatened me with something of the kind last night. Didn't you hear her?” “Yob; but I never imagined she was in earnest. Women say so many things they don’t mean when they are in a passion. She’s gone off, probably, to try and frighten, you. She’s sure to come back again, if it’s only to see the child ” “But she has taken the child with her and every one of his clothes and nil her own, besides-every shilling we had in the house. It’s cruel of her,” says James, relapsing into the tearful state which so often succeeds drunkenness, “to leave, me all alone here without a blessed coin in my pocket, and no one to see after me. 1 didn’t think she could be so cruel!” William Moray whistles suggestively. “Listen to me, Jem,” he then says; “1 want to speak seriously to you. Toll me the truth. Is that woman your wife or not ?” “Of course she’s my wife!” “I see no ‘of course’ in the matter. After that terrible scrape you got into at Glasgow you disappeared altogether from society, apd. never communicated with yonr family for four or five years. Then you suddenly turn up in Lpudop, and I find you living with a lady who you say Is married to you, bpt who is not in the position from which men of opr standing usually choose their wives,” “Well! how could I help it?” grumbles James. “I couldn’t get any employment after that cursed business in Glasgow, and Delia can make money, and how are we to live else? You wouldn’t have me starve, would you? or break stones? If the governor hadn’t been so beastly unforgiving, and cut me- out of his will, 1 suppose we should have been living like other people. But anyway we were married fast enough at Chilton, in Berwickshire, apd we’ve got the certificate of it—at lopst, Delia has, for I suppose the jade has takpp it with her.” “Do you think tlmt she cap have got an inkling of where we took the boy last night, and carried him off in consequence?” “How ean I te|l? These women have ears all round* in my experience. l ’ “Because that is rather an important matter to decide. You see, the case is, James, you can’t afford to part with this woman just yet.” “How do you mean?” “Well, to speak plainly—you -won't support yourself, and I can’t support you. Therefore you must use every possible means to make her come back to you.” “But suppose she won’t come buck?” Whines James. “How can I make her? She earns enough money to support herself, and she knows how ill I am, that I am unable to do any work or to stand any fatigue; and if she stays away and you won’t make me an allowance, I shall' starve or go to the workhouse, for there’s nothing else left for me!” “Hush! dpn’t talk such nonsense,” interrupts his brother, authoritatively. “We piust force Mrs. Moray to return to yon ppd we piust dp it by means pf the philfl.’ “But she’s got the child.’’ “She has no claim to him. I think you told me he was seven years old on his last birthday. Ypp can legally take him from her agaip.’’ “Rut thpn f shall have to support hiip—and how pm I tp support myself?” “1 do wish yop would hear me tp the pnd, and not keep on interrupting so. The first thipg we must do is to find out your Wife’s present address. That is easily accomplished by having her followed home from the theater. Thep you pipst claim and take away the child. The mpther is certain to follow it.” “But suppose she doesn’t follow it?*“Then I am prepared to carry out what I proposed to you last night, though l cannot say that my wife fell ip very readily with my views. She considers the boy so plain. And lam sure sjie would never consent to receive hiip if she knew his mother was an actress, or even alive. I have represented him to her, therefore, as a motherless child of yours by an early and imprudept marriage, whom I am desirous, in the event of your death, of adopting as my son; and if she allows me to carry opt iny own views concerning him, it is as much as she will do. She's a good woman, but her opinions are decided; and as she has no children of her own, she is apt to be a little jealous of ray npproaching the subject. But it is very premature to talk of these things. Your wife appears fond of the child, and I believe you have only to claim him to secure her return to yop.” “Well, what am I to do till she comes back ? She’s taken all the money she had with her, and she'll draw her salary topiorrow evening, but not a cursed halfpenny of it shall I see. It’s cruel of her to leave a fellow jn such a plight!”' “Here! hold up, man! Don't snivel! l am going to settle the rent for you this week, and there’s a sovereign to go on with,” throwing It down on the table, “But for heaven's sake, Jem, don’t go and get drunk again to-night; for the woman of the house declared she’d turn you out Into the street if you did, and she looks every inch as if she’d keep her word!” The poor wretch makes some sort of promise to do as he is advised, and subsides again into his old despondent attitude. As William crosses the threshold and looks back at him, he thinks he has seldom seen a more pitiable object. CHAPTER VJ, On the fourth day after Mrs. Moray left her husband, she rushes suddenly into Mrs. Horton’s room, apd without preface or apology for the intrusion, gasps out: “They" have stolen my boy from mo' They have come by njght and stolen away my boy out of his very bed! Tell me how I can get him bock agalu, or be revenged upou them, for mercy’s sake, or I shall go mad!”

The woman looks as if she were going mad, as she paces up and down the apartment, choking with anger and emotion; her hair hanging down her back, her hat half off her head, and the rest of her clothes thrown on anyhow. “Della Moray, how can I or anybody else understand what you have to say, while yon keep trotting up and down the room in that fashion? Come and sit down like a good child, and tell me all about it, and then perhaps I may be able to advise you on the subject.” “I can’t sit down. I have not sat down since I went home last night and found he was gone. The cruel, heartless wretches! After all I have suffered, couldn’t they have left me my poor sickly child? Oh, Mrs. Horton! I wish I could die! I wish I could fall down on the carl»et this moment and remember nothing, and nobody ever again!” “That’s a sensible sort of wish to have when you know your boy wants a mother more than most boys. You’re talking in riddles to me, my dear, and it seems tik.-m” I shall have to unravel them ns I best may. However, I know so f.'.r that you made an effort to free yourself from that man, for as you didn't come here to learn what news I had for you from my solicitor, I walked round to your place on Friday and heard the whole story from your landlady.” _ The mention of the solicitor arrcstß Delia’s attention. _ ‘Oh, what did he say?” she inquires, eagerly. “Is there any hope for me? Shall I be allowed to live in peace with my boy?” “He’s over seven years old, and that old fool Bond tells me that after that age you have no legal claim to him.” “No legal claim to my own child that I brought into the world! No claim! I —his mother. No right to supply him with the necessaries of life which his father won’t work to do. Oh. Mrs. Horton! it cannot—cannot bo true!” 1 It is true, Delia Moray, nnd a more infamous law was never enacted. But Mr. Bond was clear enough on the subject. He says no law in the calendar is more stringent or binding In its effects. A married woman has no right to the custody of her child after it is seven years old.” “A married woman fit- Why a married woman?” cried Delia, quickly. “Because, if you were not married to that inhuman brute you might take your child away from him to-morrow, and no one would dare to say you ‘nay’; because if you were not married, yon would have the sole right to keep, pnd lovp, and project him, and you might imprison thp father for not contributing to fiis support. That’s the lpw of England, Dplip Moray] pnd you may take 4 and make whpt you like of it, for I am sure that po ppe with any sense would desire to dispute she possession with you. When that old fool Bond made it plain to me, I could have torn every hpir out of hjs hpad wjfh tfie greatest pleasure.” Meanwhile Dejip Moray, haying sank into a chair, is repeptiug in a stupefied manner to herself: “Not mine! My Willy not mine.” “Mrs. Timson told me that from what she could gather of the conversation that took place between that drunken husband of yours and his brother, the day you left home, she thinks when they took Willy out with them the evening before, it was to William Moray’s house —and I expect that is where you will find him pow.” - “At Brixton?” “Yes, at Brixton—if thnt is where thp man lives. What is the address?*’ “I don’t know. I have neyer been thcpc. The William Moraj'H don’t think me good enough to visit them.” “It is easily found! Jnst hand me down that postoffice directory. Here it is: ‘William Mprny, Esq. the Fjrs, Gqdalmipg Park, rfiad, Brhxr top, S. J3.’ *’ “But*do yop really thipk J pap gq ther o '-” asks Delia, jopking half planned at thp idea. “Go there! Of course! Whpt js so prevent you? You’re not afraid of the wqql merchant’s wife? Go there boldly pud demand your child, and if you don't get him, you will at pH events get the chpuce of telling your qwp story.” “Put you spy my husband hps the law on his side.” “Quite true; but you have a greater power on your side unless, which I strongly disbelieve, Mr. William Moray Intends to charge himself with bis brother’s future support. He has the law, my dear-, but you have the money!” ,

CHAPTER YH. As Pelia, fortifipd by her friend's last words, speeds upqp hp'r way to Brixtoq, she feels a different creature. After many inquiries and several wrong turnings, she arrives at last before the large stuccq building standing back frqm thp road, with a earripgp sweep ip frqpt of jt, qn the gates of whjefi are inscribed, in bqld characters, “Thp Firs.” It is Sunday, pnd there are nqt many shpbbily drpssed ppoplp about. De|ia fancies she sees the Jace curtpin pt thp window of ope pf the lower rooms ffIOYP, as though sqmebftdy wpre wptchipg her pppropch from within; but she marches bravely up the steps, pud gives a bold, determined double knock. A footman answers It, and she asks for Mrs. Moray. The man expminps hpr inquisitively pnd ushers her into the drawing room, which is on the same flopr. An interval pf five qr tea minutes occurs while Mrs. William Moray is arranging her laces apd ribbons nnd wiping the effects of luncheon frpm her ample bust where the crumbs will settle, and the mother in thp drawing room is wopdeying how much lqnger she ip to be kept in suspense, But then the dining roqm doqr opens pud closes, pnd }n another minut» the drawing room door has followed its example, apd the lady qf the bopse, arrayed in a plain colored satin and velvet dress, enters. Delia glances at her sisterrin-law apd fepls her heart sink and her hopes of sympathy vanish. There is nothing ip Mys, Moray’s facp but hardpess apd vulgarity. She is p wonian pf abopt fiye-and-thirty, stout pnd ungrccefpl, with small eyes, coarse features and limbs and p complete absence of good breeding. The elder Mrs. Moray is completely taken. pbpek as Delia tells who shp is.

“I don’t kpow ip the least what you're talking pbout,” she says, looking Delia steadfastly in the face, “There hain’t such p person as Mrs, James Moray—leastways, not connected With hour family.” “Ilavp they dared to tell you that story, then!” exclaims Delia, excitedly; “dared to say I am pot married to him? Oh» Mrs. Moray, it is a falsehood—a wicked, cruel falsehood! I have my marriage certificate at home, apd can prove to you that I am James’ wisp. Where is your husband? He knows me well enough. Let him cpmc and say to my face thpt I pm not his brother’s wife.” “Oh, that is hcasily settled, young wcun* an,” says the other, edging toward the door, pnd to’lng not to look uncomfortable; “for Mr. Japies Moray’s wife has bepn dead for hover so long, as I cap tOS* tify. However, If you wish to spe my bitsbpnd, I think it will be the best for hail parties, for I am quite buneqqal myself to contending with so hextraordiuary p ldnterruptkra. And hon the Sabbath, l ‘I am sorry I should have bad to disturb

tress of mind about my boy. I cajbe borne from the theater last- night him gone from toy takes* swaystolen—and not a word even To Jet me know where, he is.” . “Yon came bom? from where?’ demands Mrs- William Moray, horrified. ‘•From the theater where I {day—the Corinthian. lam an actress. I support myself and Willy, and have supported my husband for years past by my own labor. It is hard that the only requital he can make me is to steal my child, and that his brother helps him in the robbery !” “Willgum; WillgnmP’ calls Mrs. Moray from the open door. She has drawn her purple satin skirts closer around her as the awful truth of Delia’s profession is made patent to her sensitive understanding, and now she summons her husband at once to her aid. Her ears must have deceived her. It cannot be true. The mother of the child now /sitting at her luncheon table, and the wife df her husband’s brother, an actress! and actually standing within a few yards of her. If Mrs. Moray were good at fainting, which she is 'not, she would certainly drop down now. But she grows red as a peony In the face instead, and bawls, “WiHgum!” at the top of her voice, and in another moment William Moray answers the summons. (To be continued.!