Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
"You think you know."
"I am sure I know."
All at once she changed her tone. "I am bound to give way to you," she
said, with an assumption of humility, "for you are my husband. I have no
wish to irritate you, or to unsettle your mind more than it is already
unsettled. There are women who, for less than you have said, for less
than you have done, would have put you into a private madhouse. The
delusions you have been under are very serious to me, but I will bear
them as long as I can. If I were to tell any official, any doctor, that,
returning home after a long absence, you never once inquired for your
child, born during your absence, it would be a sufficient proof of your
insanity."
"I heard in New York that you had a child," I said, "and it brought me
home earlier than I had intended."
"Kind, thoughtful husband," she murmured, vindictively.
"I would have avoided the subject," I said; "I would avoid it now.
Shameless woman! Not upon the head of an innocent child, of whom I am
not the father, do I desire to visit the sin of the mother. It would
have become you better--if any suggestion that is good and modest in
woman could occur to you--to have omitted all mention of your child.
Listen now to me with your best attention. In the course I am adopting I
am prompted by but one desire--to avoid the shame which publicity would
bring upon me. For that reason have I kept my return home a secret from
every person but yourself with whom I am acquainted in London; for that
reason I have taken this lodging in an obscure locality, so that I may
confer the more privately with you, and endeavour to bring you to a true
sense of your position. Publicity will bring shame to me; it will bring
beggary to you--absolute beggary. Let that fact sink into your mind;
ponder well over it; and while you think of it let this declaration
which I am about to make have its due weight. If you drive me to the
extremity of forcing you into a public court, and the case be decided
against you, as it must, no persuasion or entreaty shall induce me to
assist you to the value of a shilling in your future. You will have to
depend absolutely upon yourself and your vile associate for your means
of living. You compel me to hold out this threat, which, under other
circumstances, I should deem unmanly and inhuman."
"It _is_ unmanly and inhuman," she said. "Why do you hold out such a
threat?"
"Because, as I have said, it is the only means I can adopt to bring you
to a proper understanding of your position. Shame you could bear, for
you have already borne it, and it has not touched your fatal beauty."
Her vain nature could not but be gratified at this admission, and she
bestowed upon me a radiant smile. "But poverty, if I have the slightest
knowledge of your character, you could not bear. It would be the
bitterest punishment with which you could be visited."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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