A woman's debt

by William Le Queux

Of that dishonest person, it may be narrated that he came before a severe judge, who did not believe in leniency, was tried and found guilty, and received a sentence of ten years. At the end of two he died of pneumonia—he had always been a delicate man—and Lettice was a free woman.

Save for that hateful shadow of the past which naturally grew fainter with the passing of every year, her lot was not altogether an unhappy one. The five thousand pounds which she had not scrupled to take from the tainted hands of Tom Granger, added to her own small capital, brought her in quite a respectable little income and removed her for ever from the intrusion of sordid anxieties. The child, a winsome little fellow, was quite happy with his foster-parents. She took up her art again, more from a desire for occupation than necessity. She did not go to Alma Buckley, but her friend came frequently to her, and every day the past seemed to recede further into oblivion.

And as she grew better in health and spirits, her old ambitions began to revive. Had life really closed for her because of that one hideous mistake? She talked it over with her faithful friend.

Alma Buckley was a strange mixture. She was very honest in money matters, she had no inclination to dishonest acts, but she thought nothing of telling a lie; she was not over scrupulous in the general conduct of life. Was it possible that Lettice could marry again, in face of that terrible episode in her past?

Alma laughed her scruples to scorn. “Of course you will marry again, and equally there is no necessity to tell your husband a word of the past. Up to the time you marry him, your life belongs to yourself, not to him. He won’t be likely to have a clean sheet himself, any more than you.”

The advice so frequently and emphatically tendered, fell upon very willing ears. But, at the moment, there were no prospects of a second marriage. Lettice went nowhere and knew nobody but Alma Buckley. That astute young woman, after much cogitation, evolved a plan to remedy this state of things.

“Of course, you can come to me as you used to do, and resume acquaintance with my old lot, but they’re no good to you, I wouldn’t marry one of them myself. You’ve got to fly at higher game.”

Lettice sighed. She quite agreed with her friend, but how was it to be done?

“Now, this is my idea. Go and live in a nice respectable neighbourhood, go regularly to church, and get in with the parson and his wife. Play your cards well, and they’ll hand you on to their friends. In time you’ll get a nice little circle round you, and in a couple of years’ time you’ll have more acquaintances than you know what to do with. You’ve nothing to hide except that one little episode; you’re a lady on your father’s side, at any rate, and you act and speak like one; you’ll go down all right when you’ve once got a start.”

It was sound, worldly advice, if it did not err on the side of scrupulousness, and as it has been remarked before, it fell upon very willing ears.