Charlotte M. Brame

“ There is a jetty—an old-fashioned, weird place, where the green water rushes swiftly and washes round the green wood, where there is always a beautiful sound of the rising and falling of the sea; where you may sit on one of the old-fashioned seats, seeing nothing but water and sky around you, until you can fancy yourself out in the wide ocean; until you can wrap your thoughts and your senses in the very mists of romance. Time was when the Chain Pier at Brighton was one of the wonders of England, and even now, with its picturesque chains and arches, I like it better than any other. ”

“ Fleming rose from her chair with a ghastly face.
"Frances!" cried her husband, "what is the matter?"
"You will talk of such horrible things," she replied, vehemently, "and you know that I cannot bear them."
"Sweetheart," he whispered, as he kissed her, "I will be more careful. I know a sensitive heart like yours cannot bear the knowledge of such things. You must forgive me, Frances, but to me there is something far more loathing in the woman who kills a child than in the woman who slays a man. Do not look so pale and grieved, my darling! John, we must be more careful what we say." ”

“ You can stand there with only a rail between you and the green, deep water, watching the fisher-boats out on the deep; watching, perhaps, the steamer with its load of passengers, or looking over the wide sunlit waves, dreaming—dreams born of the sea—out of the world; alone in the kingdom of fancy; there is always something weird in the presence of deep, silent, moving waters.
There is always plenty of life, gayety and fashion on the West Pier. It is a famous place, not for love-making but for flirtation; a famous place for studying human nature ”

“ Could this woman, who looked pitifully on me, a grown man, drown a little child in the deep sea? Were those lips, littering kindly words of welcome, the same that had cried in mad despair, "Oh, Heaven! if I dare—if I dare?" I could have killed myself for the base suspicion. Yet it was most surely she!
I stooped to pick up the white hawthorn she had dropped. She took it from me with the sweetest smile, and Lance stood by, looking on with an air of proud proprietorship that would have been amusing if it had not been so unutterably pitiful. ”

“ I was always of a dreamy, sentimental, half-awake kind of mind; I thought of nothing more than a woman, desperate, perhaps, with an unhappy love, throwing the love-letters and presents of a faithless lover into the sea—nothing more. I repeat this most emphatically, as I should not like any suspicion of indolence or indifference to rest upon me.
A slight splash—not of anything heavy—no other sound; no cry, no word—a moment's pause in the running of the waves, then they went on again as gayly as ever, washing the wooden pillars, and wreathing them with fresh seaweed. ”

“ Listen how wonderful are the ways of God, who hates murder and punishes it. She flung the burden into the sea, feeling sure it would sink; but it caught—the black and gray shawl caught—on some hooks that had been driven into the outer woodwork of the pier; it caught and hung there, the shawl moving to and fro with every breath of wind and every wave."
Without a word or a cry she fell with her face in the grass. Oh, Heaven, be pitiful to all who are stricken and guilty! ”

“ All along the coast there was a line of light; the town was brilliantly lighted, and when I looked across the waters the West Pier was in all its radiance; the sound of the music floated over the waves to me, the light of the colored lamps shone far and wide. I could see the moving mass of people; here I was almost alone. I saw a gentleman smoking a cigar, I saw the inevitable lovers, I saw an old man with an iron face, I saw two young men, almost boys—what had brought them there I could not think. ”

“ Our little life in this world seems of little count. Throw a stone into the sea—it makes a splash that lasts for one second, then it is all over; the waves roll on just as though it had not been dropped.
The death of this one little child, whom no one knew and for whom no one cared, was of less than no account; it made a small paragraph in the newspapers—it had caused some little commotion on the pier—just a little hurry at the work-house, and then it was forgotten. ”

“ I find more beauty in this bunch of lilac than I should in all the seaweed that was ever thrown on the beach; to me there is more poetry and more loveliness in the ripple of the leaves, the changeful hues of the trees and flowers, the corn in the fields, the fruit in the orchards, than in the perpetual monotony of the sea."
"That is not fair, Frances," cried Lance. "Say what you will, but never call the sea monotonous—it is never that; it always gives on the impression of power and majesty." ”

“ Why, John, the soul of a good woman is clear and transparent, like a deep, clear lake; and in it one sees such beautiful things. When my Frances speaks to a little child there comes into her voice a beautiful tenderness—a ring of such clear music, that I say to myself it is more like the voice of an angel than of a woman; it is just the same when she speaks to any one in sorrow or sickness. ”

“ My wife, Frances, is quite an angel. When I see her in the morning, her fair face so fresh and pure, kneeling down to say her prayers, I feel quite unworthy of her; when I see the rapt, earnest expression of her face, as we sit side by side in church, I long to be like her! She is one of the gentlest and sweetest of women; there is no one like her!"
"I am heartily glad that you are so happy, my dearest Lance," I said.
He continued: "I know that my talking does not bore you; you are too true a friend; it eases my heart, for it is always full of her. You do not know how good she is! ”

“ A beautiful woman asking, with those sweet, sensitive lips, for my friendship, looking at me with those calm, tender eyes, asking me to like her for her husband's sake—the sweetest, the most gracious, the most graceful picture I had ever seen. Yet, oh, Heaven! a murderess, if ever there was one! She wondered why I did not respond to her advances. I read the wonder in her face.
"You do not care for hasty friends," she said. "Well, Lance and I are one; if you like him, you must like me, and time will show." ”

“ My bed-room faced the sea, and I drew up the blind so that I might look at it once more. The beautiful sea has many weird aspects, none stranger than when it lies heaving sullenly under the light of the moon. Fascinated, charmed, I stood to watch it. The moon had changed her mind; she meant to shine now; the clouds had all vanished; the sky was dark and blue; the stars were shining; but the wind had quickened, and the waves rolled in briskly, with white, silvery foam marking their progress.
The Chain Pier stood out quite clear and distinct in the moonlight ”

“ That good Lance; it seemed to me quite impossible that he could speak even these words without bringing in Frances; but how bright and happy he looked! I envied him.
"Do as I have done, John," he said "Marry. Believe me, no man knows what happiness means until he does marry."
"You must find me a wife just like your own," I said, and the words came back to me afterward with a fervent prayer of "Heaven forbid!—may Heaven forbid!"
"I shall never marry now, Lance," I said. "The only woman I could ever love is dead to me." ”

“ No one need ever feel dull in Brighton. If I could have liked billiards, or cared for the theater, or enjoyed the brilliant shops on the crowded pier, with its fine music, I might have been happy enough; but I was miserable with this aching pain of regret and the chill desolation of a terrible loss. I tried the Aquarium. If fishes could soothe the heart of man, solace might be found there ”

“ Fleming was in the drawing-room, engaged with Lady Ledbitter. Lance's face fell.
"You do not seem to care for Lady Ledbitter," I said to him.
"In truth I do not; she is a county magnate, and a local horror I call her. She leads all the ladies of the country; they are frightened to death of her; they frown when she frowns, smile when she smiles. I begged of Frances not to fall under her sway, but I have begged in vain, no doubt. If she has been there for half and hour Frances will have given in." ”

“ Lance turned a laughing face to me.
"My wife is as strong in her dislikes as in her likes," he said. "She never will go to the sea. Last year I spent a whole month in trying to persuade her; this year I have begun in good time, and I intend to give it three months' good trial, but I am afraid it will be quite in vain."
"Why do you dislike the sea?" I repeated. "You must have a reason."
"I think," she replied, "it makes me melancholy and low spirited."
"Well it might!" I thought, for the rush and fall of the waves must be like a vast requiem to her. ”

“ I must know whether there was any truth in my suspicions or not. I hated myself for the task that lay before me, to watch a woman, to seek to entrap her, to play the detective, to seek to discover the secret of one who had so frankly and cordially offered me friendship.
Yet it was equally hateful to know that a bad and wicked woman, branded with sin, stained with murder, had deceived an honest, loyal man like Lance Fleming. ”

“ None ever reached my standard but Frances, and she is my ideal come to life—the reality found, fair, sweet, and true, a blonde, queenly woman. I should think that very few men meet and marry their ideal as I have met and married mine. Ah, there is the avenue that leads to the old manor-house! Who could have thought that I should ever be master of a manor-house, John? Neither that nor the handsome income belonging to it would be of any use without Frances. It is Frances who makes the world to me. ”

“ The moon shone with a fitful light—at times it was bright as day—flooded the sea with silver and showed the chain and the arches of the pier as plainly as the sun could have done—showed the running of the waves—they were busy that evening and came in fast—spreading out in great sheets of white foam, and when the moonlight did touch the foam it was beautiful to see. ”

“ As a rule you will find few there, but you may know they are a special few; you will see the grave, quiet face of the thinker, who has chosen that spot because he does not want to be disturbed by the frou-frou of ladies' dresses, or the music of their happy voices; he wants to be alone with the sea and the wind.
It often happens that you find a pair of very happy lovers there—they go to the side and lean over the railing as though their sole object in life was to watch the rippling sea. ”

“ Lance laughed aloud.
"I wonder no longer at your being a bachelor," he said; "if the sight of a beautiful face produces such a strange effect on you. You must deal gently with him, Frances," he said to his wife; "his nerves are weak—he cannot bear much at a time."
"I promise to be very gentle," she said; and the music of that low, caressing voice thrilled my very heart. "I think," she continued, "that Mr. Ford looks very tired, Lance, pale and worn. We must take great care of him." ”

“ I have kept my promise—Lance Fleming knows nothing of what I have told you.
Only Heaven knows how far she sinned or was sinned against. I never see the sunset, or hear the waves come rolling in, without thinking of the tragedy on the pier. ”

“ I am naturally melancholy, and have a tendency to look always on the dark side of things. You can imagine how I loved Lance Fleming; the love that other men give to wives, children, parents and relatives I lavished on him. I loved his fair, handsome face, his laughing blue eyes, his sunny smile, his cheery voice ”

“ Fleming look at it with eyes that were wet with tears.
"Does it sadden you?" asked Lance. "It need not; the little one looks young and tender to be left alone, but the water is silent and the mother is near. She never left him. What a pretty story of mother-love it is."
The beautiful face paled, the lips trembled slightly.
"It is a beautiful picture," she said, "to come from that land of darkness; it makes something of the poetry of the Nile."
Watching her, I said to myself, "That woman has not deadened her conscience; she has tried and failed. There is more good than evil in her." ”

“ The little unknown babe, who had spent the night in the deep sea, was buried in the cemetery on the Lewes Road. I bought a grave for her under the spreading boughs of a tree; she had a white pall and a quantity of white flowers. The matron from the work-house went, and it was not at all like a pauper's funeral. The sun was shining, and the balmy air was filled with the song of birds; but then the sun does shine, and the birds will sing, for paupers! ”

“ Fleming," I said; "but I must tell it to you as a story."
"Do," she said, in a gentle voice, and she gathered the scarlet poppies as she spoke.
"There were two friends once upon a time," I began, "who loved each other with a love deeper and truer than the love of brothers."
She nodded her head with a charming smile; I saw an expression of great relief pass over her face.
"I understand," she said; "as you and Lance love each other, there is something most beautiful in the love of men." ”

“ I looked at her; there was not even a fleeting shadow on her face. Then she lingered for half a minute by my side.
As she drew near to me, I felt again that it was utterly impossible that my suspicions could be correct, and that I must be mistaken.
"I hope," she said, "you will not think what I am going to say strange. I know that it is the custom for some wives to be jealous of their husband's friends—some might be jealous of you. I want to tell you that I am not one of that kind. I love my husband so utterly, so entirely, that all whom he loves are dear to me. ”