The SQUARE PEG

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 250, 19 October 1907, Page 11

The SQUARE PEG

By W. E. NORRIS.

cWOFSIS OF PBETIOrS CHAPTERS. rvril' Hadlow, a struggling black-and-receives an offer from a sec- •*•? JSn" Sir Martin Hadlow. to adopt •£ Had his own wishes alone Cyril would probably have "15 his r.o desire to be rich. Kmssmoreton Court, he is wartnSir Martin though Lady Coa53gfe Srtakably hostile. Adela Sr.is aiso staving at Kingsmoreton. rmrin- a conversation next day with .££ °s6e tells him that Sir Martin is -faSdr looking forward to his marnagr.--"■BS vihel Penrose, the oaly child of Mr SLif el Jlanmngton. Mr Pickering. s£Hß* Church rector, takes a deeded SJacto the yoan S man. and suggests that 55n should help his factotum to keep Sin the rabbits on his own small prop- ®>»" rvrU. after his first attempt, de.g£ to give up the idea of becoming "a con-da. Violet Ord. is loved by -nri, Lnscombe. who has twenty thorisand « ypsr Although the love is not retimed. Tibia "is attracted by the money, aad inlaws to accent him when he proposes. MrVo long as she can is keeping him at len-ti. Meanwhile Cyril is becomjr£"^ crT friendly with Adela. who is serial, years older than himself. CHAPTER VI. —[Continued.) Cyril considered for a moment. ""Well,"' Je replied, "1 think Miss Penrose is a perfect specimen of the traditional English jonns lady.'"' -Taint praise: but perhaps her style of beauty is rather too rustic for your taste. I grant you that she's rustic, likewise a trifle ordinary and rather aoie flign a trifle pig-headed. But that jot wouldn't discover at first."' " "Good Heavens, no! I can't imagine .safcnig sack discoveries as that about jEs Penrose, first or last." iiela flung the end cf her cigarette nut of the open -window and laughed again. Ton are falling in love with leg" said she, and patted the young ad on the shoulder. "I thought you Tnrnid, and I congratulate you. You ' act do better." Cyril refrained from repudiating a charge which would not have been at all isgiaeaole, had it been true- He even wished it true, seeing that matrimony •■nsMs dearly unavoidable destiny, and is las not without a sense of gratitude to Ifrs Spencer Hadlow. who, nothing ' g sot good-natured, desired to promote s match so expedient from many points of-riffr. . . Sow, it so happened that at the same ffitnneni lie other party to the suggested 3nani"was listening (not very patiently or attentively, it is true, still she was li=P" "•giiiiTg because she had no alternative) to TnMfe representations of its expediency. made to order!" Violet Ord declared? "bell fit you like a glove. Samsone, nice-mannered, docile and. I FJinniti tiink by the look of him. religions. At all events, if he isn't he can ejsly feejnade so. And there will be no roesHaa cf forsaking Uncle Jim either, " because it win be the most natural ariaasemeni in. the world for you to live . Jera after yonr marriage until old Sir Martin &s. two properties v3I.De joined, ad your' Husband will get IJfflrage" if he wants one. He can't =c—so onr friend the-bobhy tells me — fet W£ doesrit matter, as he seems to c anions to learn. You will have to l! ana in horsemanship while the .tebTßgmagnie lessons, which he says is means to do, ami " . ."Tes, bat you won't put mc off by kiting that sort of rubbish, or any other «ri of rnbnM," interrupted Miss Penuse composealy; "so you needn't tr.y. ifLTtSy do you allow the booby, as you elhrn, to treat you as if you" were'his already!" _m two girls were walking,, with ™sed ana, across rae park towards ■aaamagwn, having just parted from Jse? Inscombe, who had bc-en F®£ as far as the entrance-<ra,tes by «a-oi&Htt and resolutely intercepted •one by the other. "Here is no known -wav of preventinoEa or fiat kind from behaving as they ™?B <»spt directly insulting them " Mien answered. "Why no t gn-g that T a trfal then? refnsmg to walk home with teg* you were t»!d would have-been •tniectrnsnlt." ■^tl ier SflouMers. "Do ■SSSf c I WUni ' t OT «3'oyed to see s£l*W and waving your * fiammg sword? Was it Zg**J°°B before he had done gg**F«ze my hands in his huge ■IISw red ier ct "I should Xto 0 ttW '?? Eobert - » tad to :32 J d - ollt , W *ta* I•» | iß^r 4 *° uwilfc twenty thousand "feS" 1 ' Violet ord be bLu3combeor ** that moment her ~*&St a look upon it fgznous cousin pause. *■* H4W ° a f ° r nearl a W %*nfo remarking-. fca however rich he might ier T — and «r T> S en " * wouldn't!" she °iad « \? lould tate to die." ■^I«ffi ,ty<m tate to be Mrs d T'* J shonl <i hate but there would be comW °-C hem - Ida hates her ifc «tft'l«l. a ?^ dy CMI P ret «i<i «at - ."Oh ?f* Ey m ier -way-' r ng W°&t^ d^ andsfeni P ed ' "I* good ' Mabel!" she ?•£ anvflHS t* temptation have you wta wouldn't ** sore aD Ida mc sick SB the W«? Vltk he r wickedness, . a^l iariHV™ g x am ever to l *ist is -v. {"-P 6 - Kto imitate her. But ■%ssk>. * Conic of mc? lamin a v 3Se girl's nr 5 W f Te fun of tears, and ug'WfenSTr' " Bd cs P rcs " -STtL!: once - "Oh. yes; I *-*&]■ pl*/- 011 didn ' t ' then > I tv htm S a burden upon eS* « «£^" c are times wherr Pont Was f ~^L a MI upon e 3tF th to mc, P^ i mvT la ? lskon I'm not i • vn S la teful J but—" I stow, perhaps." through her tears. "I

(Author of "Lord. tHe Luckless," etc.)

1 didn't say so; but I won't contradict you. gLet us call Mannington slow. As a mat- I fer of fact, it is. Call mc fast if you r iike— though I'm not. What I niay •■ turn into if I don make haste to estab- ■ lish myself is another question. "But- Bob Luscombe is not the only . rich man in England, if it comes to that," 1 Mabel objected. "There is young Hadlow, for instance, who will be very well i of? :ome day." "Thanks awfully, but I don't covet my neighbour's ass, nor anything that is . hers. Except, of course, her good heart : and her clear conscience." ' "He isn't really an ass, VL" ' "Perhaps not; but he is yours, or go.mg to be. If he took his eyes off you once, it -wasn't to respond to my in- ' viting glances, I can tell you." And during the remainder of the walk I Miss Ord declined to be drawn away . from a subject which had the double ■_ merit of amusing her and affording her . shelter. j "Oh, yes,"' she exclaimed impatiently lat length, in reply to a plain question. j "I daresay I shall end by accepting him. ■j I don't mean to begin by doing it, if ! that's any comfort to you; but I don't mean to lose him. There! now you j know as much as I do. and I couldn't lay jmy soul more bare if I were in the confessional. Let us have tea and talk about something less repulsive " CHAPTER VII. XO LN'TEXTIOXS. "The more I see of Cyril the better I like him,'' said Sir Jlartin. "I make no extravagant claims on his behalf; but at ' least it must be admitted, I think, that he is doing his very best to fit himself | for a life which can't be altogether con- ; genial to him." Mr Pickering nodded assent. "Yes. he is doing his best; he is a good fellow." "And considering how easily he might have been a bad fellow," Sir Martin pursued, "considering what a large proportion of young fellows are bad in one way ;or another, one can't but be grateful to - him for not being the dozen or so of i things that he isn't." | Mr Pickering laughed. "Well, he has •no conspicuous vices; still you had bet- ' ter not expect him to be entirely negaI tive. There are subjets, rligious and political, upon which he strikes mc as a trifle too positive. He'll outgrow all ' : that in time, though." !■• "So far as I can gather, "remarked Lady Constantia in her usual detached and uninterested way, "he is a socialist and an atheist." The three were seated round the card- ■ table at which they had been playing a ! rubber of whist after dinner, Adela, who had been the re<rtor's partner, having retired "to write "tetters." In other words, ' she had gone rrpstairs to smoke, as they i all knew, though they never accorded that practice the tacit sanction of a I verbal alltudcm. The Rector was not so I ill-advised as to undertake his young " friend's d>lence. To doubt the ■ literal accuracy of Old Testament narratives ;: is a vr/ry different thing from being an ■ !'atheist, while socialism has" become a i \ somp.what elastic term; but Lady Con- , sta'.it r _a probably meant nothing more tb\w that she did not agree with her i bos band in liking Cyril, and that the j curate had been telling her tales. It &2emed best, therefore, to ignore the interpolation, and merely repeat, "He'll . , outgrow all that." _ j "I am glad," Sir Martin meditatively ( resumed, "that they have taken him up ,j at Mannington. H is dining there toJ night, yon know." i j "T ought to know it. as this is the . : third time you have mentioned the circumstance." answered the Rector, laugh- _ i ing. ""Well, I heartily approve, if that's , \ what you want mc to say. I don't see , ; how you could have made a wiser choice I for him." "I don't presume to choose for him," ' I Sir Martin protested; "I haven't breath- , ed a word upon the subject to him or Penrose or anybody. But it looks as if there might be some chance of his • choosing for himself in a way that 1 would please us all." ' Lady Constantia became suddenly alert. *TMabel?" she asked- "Is it possible that Mabel would accept him?" 1 " within the bounds of possibility, I should think," replied Sir Martin smil- ' ing; "but of course, I know nothing 1 about it. I hope she may, that's all." ! "Oh. so do I!" Lady Constantia ex- • claimed, with unwonted fervour. And • presently she added, "If he marries, he ! must necessarily be given a separate establishment." 1 "'Well, yes," her husband assented; "his marriage will have that drawback, ' no doubt." » "But you can afford it." s "Oh. I can afford whatever may be . needed for house rent and so forth. . What I was thinking of was the loss of . his company." Lady Constantia rose, and walked '■ quickly round the table. "Martin," said ' she, in a pained voice, "you can't have ' become so fond as that of a total Strang- ■ er in this short time!" "I really believe I should miss him," • Sir Martin owned, scanning her troubled face; "I plead guilty to having become rather fond of him. I wish you had!" "Be sure," she returned, with great emphasis and earnestness, "that I shall • never do that! How can I take fancies '■ to strangers? lam too old; we are both too old, and —and not so happy as we - once were. Why should we wish for anything more than to be allowed to end our days in peace? Surely that is not much to ask!" Barely indeed was she moved to ex- . hibit such emotion before a third person, but perhaps Mr Pickering's presence did : not embarrass her, for if anybody was acquainted with the secrets of her heart, he was. Sir Martin, oddly enough, was not, and to the Rector there was something infinitely pathetic in the spec- ■ tacle of the two wistful old faces, exchanging glances which were fated to miss their mark. He fulfilled Cie only . useful function of third persons by has--1 tening to relieve the tension. • ""We are getting ahead of events." he briskly reminded his hearers; "we haven't caught our hare yet. As for peace, I fear it isn't to be had at any price ■ on this side of the grave. I have been seeking peace and ensuing it eviV since I took charge of this benefice, but what with curate and dissenters and poachers and drunkards, not to mention total abstainers, it always contrives to allude ! mc. Now, what I should like to be told , is thisT when I know for a fact that a i certain parishioner of mine is in the habit of snaring game belonging to a per- ' son who shall be nameless, am I bound '. to give information or am I not?"

Sir Martin fell at once into the trap so benevolently laid for him. "My dear Pickering, I don't want to hear anything about it. But if he is caught red-handed I shall have to take action, and you had better invite him to consider very seriously what that means. Because it will be neither his first nor his second offence, mind."

Thus a harmless discussion as to the responsibility devolving upon those who compound a felony was started, and the potential loves of Cyril Hadlow and Mabel Penrose were left to take care of themselves.

Guided by Providence or Destiny, or whatever the force may be that sets such delicate machinery in motion, they were really taking pretty good care of themselves just then. So, at all event?, an observer of the young people, seat-. Ed side by side on a sofa at- the far end of the Mannington drawingroom and conversing with apparent absorption, might have been justified in thinking, and so Mr Penrose, nodding drowsily behind the "Field," which he had picked up, did think. Mr Penrose was resignedly acquiescent. Being a sensible old gentleman, he was aware that certain developments are as inevitable in every human existence as in the slow process- of growth, maturity and decay in every human body. Fathers possess, no doubt, a right of veto; but this can only be exercised in extreme •cases, aud there was nothing against young Hadlow; on the contrary, there were many things to be urged in his favour. As for his more shadowy avuncular right of veto, Mr Penrose had so little inclination to brandish that feeble weapon that he had only chuckled when his niece and Bob Luscombe had betaken themselves to the billiardroom a quarter of an hour before. Luscombe was all right. No harm in Luscombe. except a taste for low company, of which marriage would very soon cure him. Devilish ugly chap, if you like; but that was Violet's affair. Moreover, it is all humbug to say that an income of twenty thousand ought to make no difference to a girl who has neither home nor fortune of her own. Of course it makes a difference. Mr Penrose had not scrupled to enunciate the above opinion to sundry neighbours and cronies of his who had been partaking of his hospitality: for there had been a dinner party at Mannington that evening, and although everybody else had departed at the orthodox hour of half-past ten these two young men still lingered—having, it may be supposed, received some intimation that they were at liberty to do so. "Oh, she asked him to play," Mabel was saying to her neighbour; "that's Violet all over. After taking no notice of him the "whole evening and reducing him to the most satisfactory state of sulks and humility, she must needs undo all her work at the moment!" ''Perhaps she thought she had gone a little too far," Cyril suggested. "Not a doubt of it, and naturally he understood why she wanted to make amends. I despair of her when she does such things!" "She seems to do them with her eyes open, anyhow." "It's just because her eyes are =o wide open that I despair of her. I hoped he would disgust her, and he has: hut she invites him to play billiards with her all the same, you see." "It goes against a woman's instinct?." Cyril observed, with much originality and profundity, "to turn her back upon an admirer, whether he disgusts her or not. We men are differently constituted. When a lady whom we don't happen to admire makes advances to us, our first impulse is to fly like the wind." "Do ladies make advances to men who don't admire them?" Mabel asked. He surprised her a little by replying unhesitatingly that such was their "frequent practice; nor did he deny, when interrogated, that his assertion was based upon personal experience. He was evidently not proud of his involuntary conquests: perhaps he thought (as a fact, he did) that there was nothing out of the ordinary in them; perhaps he was honestly unaware of his striking physical advtntages. But his neighbour, who could not and did not ignore the fact that he was quite the handsomest man she had ever beheld, pictured him to herself as beset, during his Continental wanderings, by charmers of the Latin races, and although ! she was far from entertaining any wish |to compete with them, the vision, for . some reason or other, was not wholly pleasing to her. Also his generalisations , appeared to her to be over hasty, and, j for the honour of her sex. she said: "Ah, but you are not speaking of nice women." *' "Am I not ?" he returned. ""Well, no; I suppose not. But the nice ones, after all, are a select minority." "Like the nice men." "Oh, yes, like the nice men. All I meant to say was that in the matter |of love, or what goes by that name, our | standooint is not the same as yours. The mere circumstance that a man is enamoured of you gives you a sort of bias in his favour, whether you fike him or dislike him. With us it is just the other way about; our sensations in a similar case are a mixture of wrath and alarm." Well, that was another generalisation, which might not be entirely warranted; 1 but as an index to the speaker's own mental attitude it possessed some interest and piquancy. Mabel, however, did him the justice to acquit him cf having purposely sounded a warning note, and was only curious to ascertain whether he agreed with her very strongly held opinion that it is a thousand times better to remain single than to marry without love. It appeared that he did, as regarded himself, but that he was not quite so certain about other people. "Marriages of convenience, which are the rule in France, don't result half as badly as French novelists make out, Husbands and wives expect less of one another there than they do in this coun- . try, and, generally speaking, I think they get more." I "I can understand that the husbands may get as much as they have bargained for; but what about the wives?" "They seem to be contented. They haven't any -illusions to loose, and I suppose, on an average view of human nature, they are just as likely to find that they have drawn prizes as blanks. You see, Miss Penrose, the unpleasant truth is that love, like everything else in the world, is transient." "Do you know," returned the girl smiling, "that ycur saying that is conclusive proof that you yourself have never been in love." He smiled back at her in unfeigned amusement. He was 23 years of age and had been in and out of love ever so mny times. At that particular moment, though, he did not happen to be in love with anybody; so he felt that he was well equipped for a sane and dispassionate examination of the theme. "You may be right," he had the magnanimity to concede; "only if you are, all the erotic poets must be wrong." "Even Dante and Petrarch?"

"You can hardly class them among' the erotics. Besides, hoth Beatrice and Laura were abstractions. What, after all, does falling in love mean? Shouldn't we have to confess, if we were honest, that illusion is the very essence of it? We begin by being physically attracted to a given person; we proceed to endow her with a hundred imaginary attributes; then we either marry her, or get to know her so -well that we find she doesn't possess them, and then—well, then comes the end." '"As one couldn't forgive, or as if one demanded perfection! You aren't talking about love at all, you are talking about fancy. The real thing outlasts what you call physical attraction, and old age, and quarrels, and everything else which, according to you, ought to knock it on the head! You needn't look any farther than Kingsmoreton for an example." "Do you ask mc to believe that Sir Martin and Lady Constantia are iv love ■with one another?" "Why not? One can't tell how people feel at that age, but I should think ther might be a sort of loyalty to the past which would amount to it. Anyhow, they care more for one another than they do for anybody else alive." "'Mutual affection and esteem are precisely the results that may be looked for from a marriage of convenience."' (To be continued next Saturday.)