A woman's debt

by William Le Queux

On that first evening of his acquaintance with the little village hostelry, he explained to those who cared to listen to his intimate revelations, that he came to this part of the world because of the suitability of the scenery to his particular kind of work, but more especially because he wanted to escape from late hours and the numberless temptations of great cities.

This hope was, as a matter of course, never destined to be realized. During the four years of his sojourn in the picturesque little village the man slowly but steadily deteriorated, and he was not much to begin with. The bouts of drinking became more frequent and more sustained. And no doubt his hand lost much of its cunning, for their fortunes, never very bright, seemed to grow more clouded. His own appearance grew shabbier every year, and the bright, handsome girl was hard put to it to maintain her early smartness.

No doubt the major portion of what he earned went to defray the cost of his most expensive vice. From the very beginning they lived in the most frugal manner; they kept no resident servant, a woman of the village coming for a few hours in the morning to do the rough work. This elegant, refined-looking girl who seemed born to grace a palace, prepared and cooked their simple and inexpensive food, and performed other distasteful and incongruous domestic tasks. Yet withal she always carried herself like a young queen, had always a cheerful word and smile for the few people with whom she grew to exchange greetings. However much her life with this impossible and selfish father disgusted her, however deeply the iron entered her soul, she never spoke of her private sorrows and disappointments, or showed them in her demeanour.

“You see, sir, to my way of thinking,” explained the honest head-waiter, and there was a suspicion of moisture in his little, bright old eyes as he spoke, “to my way of thinking it was a cruel piece of work, knowing the kind of man he was, as he must have known, to bring a young girl like that to a peddling place like this; she just eat her heart out in that poor little cottage. You see, sir, they were neither fish, flesh nor fowl, in a homely way of speaking. They were too good for the ordinary folk about here, and of course the gentry wouldn’t look at them.”

Sellars agreed, well knowing the aloofness of country society. He could not help contrasting the two pictures, Lettice Larchester preparing and serving her father’s cheap meals in that cramped cottage, Mrs. Morrice doing the honours of her luxurious home in Deanery Street with the calm and gracious dignity of one to the manner born. The girl must have had grit in her, despite the terrible handicap of that callous and selfish father.

Mr. Dobbs proceeded with his vivid narrative. The county young ladies, if they met her in their walks, looked over her head. Some of the county young men ogled her rudely and tried to scrape acquaintance with her, but the girl kept herself to herself and gave them no encouragement, although her heart must have ached for companionship.

There was, however, an exception which ultimately led to a most thrilling episode. Archibald Brookes, it has been said, often frequented the Brinkstone Arms, unlike his brothers and the other young men of good family. Here, of course, he soon became acquainted with such an habitual attendant as the artist, and the men fraternized quickly.

Of course, the young man was cultivating the artist for his own ends. He had already gained the reputation of a rather tawdry sort of village Don Juan, much to the grief of his parents, and in justice it must be said to the disgust of his brothers, whose vices were of a different pattern. Lettice had attracted him very much when he met her accidentally in the village or when she took her solitary walks. No doubt he thought a lonely girl like her would prove an easy conquest to a man of his attractions. He wanted to get at the daughter through the father.

Larchester, who was very simple in some things, fell into the trap set for him. He took the young man home one afternoon and formally made the two acquainted. Lettice was dressed very simply, as she usually was, but her beauty did not require the aid of dress, and she looked very charming. Young Archibald was very much smitten, he soon found frequent pretexts for unceremonious visits, bringing her baskets of fruits and flowers, and paying her compliments that embarrassed more than delighted her. For she very soon saw through him and guessed that his artificial politeness concealed a base and unscrupulous nature.

Then one day a catastrophe occurred. He called one morning when her father was out. The village woman had finished her work and left, the girl was alone in the house, preparing to engage in her usual daily duties. In spite of her attempts to keep him out young Brookes, fired by her attractiveness, managed to edge his way in. The coast was clear, he had nobody to deal with but a weak woman. He lost his head, and was guilty of abominable rudeness.