ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXIX, Issue 3295, 14 August 1911, Page 3

ON THE BRINK OF A CHASM.

A RECORD OF PLOT AND PASSION.

(By L. T. Meade, author of “A Son

of Ishmael,” etc.)

CHAPTER XXIII

THE DIE CAST,

Everything turned out according to Nurse Ives’ wishes. In a week’s time she and Dr Tarbot were married by special license at St. James’s, Fore street.

Tarbot made a sullen bridegroom. Even during the ceremony he showed a morose face. Clara, on the contrary, looked animated, eager, excitedly happy-

The ceremony was over, the signatures signed in the vestry } and the bride and bridegroom were congratulated by their witnesses. Tarbot put a couple of guineas intoi each of the verger’s palms. He also paid a handsome fee to the clergyman, and tho bride and bridegroom were off. Tarbot had asked Clara where she wished to spend her honeymoon, and she promptly answered Paris. “I know Paris well, of course, but I could never see enough of it,” she said. “I’d love to go there again.” Tarbot was quite agreeable. Her choice even pleased him. They put up at a fashionable hotel, and Clara spent a busy time. She did not waste it in sight-seeing. When she was in Paris before she had never visited the Louvre, or Fontainebleau, or Versailles, nor did she go to them now. She preferred the shops; she went to them often and with good effect. Her intention was, if possible, to reconstruct herself. She had saved some money of her own, and now spelit it frely. It was necessary for her, as Tarbot’s wife, to make a good appearance. So she went from shop to shop choosing clothes, and choosing well. Hdr husband never aeompanied her, and she was all the better pleased at this. She had a greater oportunity of doing what she she meant to do. Hour by hour and ay by day the woman was changing. She shed her vulgarity as if it were a skin which was useless. She went to the best hairdresser to have her hair arranged. She was told that she had lovely hair — quite the fashionable tone. She got the most expensive lotions to bring out its brilliancy. She bought additional hair at a fabulous price to pile on her head to add to the richness of her locks, which, in color perfect, were in quantity a little scanty. She also purchased cosmetics, which she applied night and morning to her freckled face. The cosmetics did nothing for the freckles, but she fancied they did. She bought the finest black lace, and many garments trimmed with jet, and soft sweeping robes, mostly black. And Tarbot found out by degrees that he was not «. shamed to walk with Clara, and that people turned to look at her. ‘What is the matter with you?” he sai done day. “Why do you ask? Don’t you like my dress?’ ’

‘I like it too well—l should not know you jn it.” Clara smiled. Tarbot went on gazing at her critically. “You have a good figure,’ he said; “a very good figure. I had no idea of it when I married you. I did not know you were so tall, or that you had such a small waist. Your hips are well developed, too, and your shoulders are good—you are a finely-proportioned woman. If you were not so thin you might even be handsome.” While he paid her these compliments she longed pasionately for him to give her one affectionate glance; but this he had never considered in the bargain, and certainly did not intend to bestow. When Clara had purchased her wardrobe, finally buying an evening dress from Worth, who studied her good figure and peculiar face, and made her a robe which was afterwards talked about in more than one London drawing room, she told her husband that it was time to return home.

“But the fortnight is not up yet,’ ’he eai,d. “Never mind 1 You are anxious to get back to your patients. I don’t care a fig for fine scenery or picture galleries, or old palaces, or anything of that sort. I came to Paris to get my trousseau. I have got it, and now I wish to return to England.”

“All right, Clara,’’ said Tarbot. “I am abundantly -willing.” The pair crossed to Dover by the night boat that evening, and early, on the following morning arrived at Tarbot’s house in Harley street. The servants expected them and were up. The weather was getting chilly, and Clara was glad to see fires in the rooms and the whole place looking fresh and clean. She looked round with approbation, gave her orders to the footman in a haughty tone, which made him secretly incline to the belief that his master had married a duchess in disguise, and then swept upstairs to hexown room.

This room, by Tarbot’s orders, Had been newly furnished. It was hare, cold, and correct, but Clara was pleased with it. She liked the sense of space which it gave, and she thought that the pale blue and white furniture would suit her cornnlexion.

“By the way,” she said, turning to Tarhot, who followed her, “you. intend to give me carte blanch© to do what I like in the re-arranging of the house?” “Certainly,” he replied. “I shall

have no time to attend to the house. A' great number of fresh patients have written for appointments. As soon as I have had breakfast I shall order the brougham and go round at once to attend to them.” “Very well,” said 'Clara. “That will suit me perfectly.” “Are you not tired?” he said. “You have been up all night. Wouldn’t you like to lie down for a little?” “Tired!” she answered. “II You forget what my old life was.” ‘True; but you are so changed—so transformed.” “Luke I” said Clara. She was swoiing before a glass, removing her lint ■ she was unpinning it carefully. Those red locks, frizzled and curled, required careful manipulation. She smoothed her hair with her hands, and then, turning, faced her husband. He was leaving the room, but looked round at the sound of her voice. “Yes?” he asked. “Do you love me even a little?” she asked suddenly. He uttered a vexed exclamation and stared at her. (To be continued to-norrw.)