The SQUARE PEG

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 256, 26 October 1907, Page 11

The SQUARE PEG

By W. E. NORRIS.

OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. S Hadlow, a struggling blacK-anU-rprcives ail offer from a sec'f Hadlow. to adopt ? imaS United Cyril would probably have ;, ee n consulted <-> to , )e rlch Court, he Is warm■"&£''a wnversatlon next day wltu . A £S%e tells him that Sir Martin Ui i f <lV looking forward to his marriage 3 tfr Mabel Penrose, the only child of Mr ft£a» ot Mannington. "ckertng S-L,? if the young man,' aud suggests that rvrif should help his factotum to keep flown the rabbits en his own small proprtv Cyril, after his first attempt, Qccides to give up the idea of becoming "n cousin. Violet Ord. is loved by Bob Luscombe, who has twenty thousand Te3r Although the love is not returned, Violet is attracted by the money, and intends to accept him when he proposes, Mt jo long as she can is keeping him at arm's lengtfc. Meanvrbilp Cyril is becom- s mc Terr friendly with Adela. who is several years older than himself. . . CHAPTER VII.— (Continued.) The discussion on love between Ifabel and Cyril, a somewhat artificial one. inasmuch as neither of the disputants was so eager for a dialectic victory as for increased light upon the other's general character —was kept up until the j v billiard players, looking rather flushed and cross, returned to interrupt it. In their case, evidently, the course of love had not been running smooth, and Mr Luscombe's exit was both ungracious and : ungraceful. "Well, I'm off," he curtly announced. "Good-night, everybody." He shook hands with his host and hostess, nodded to Cyril and stalked away., without so much as glancing at Jfiss Ord, who made a face at his retreating back. ' "Charming, high-bred creature, isn't le?" said she, after he had banged the door behind him. "He is always 15ke that when he is at his worst," Mabel remarked, with some complacency. "Indeed he isn't!" returned her cousin. "If you want to see him at his worst you must be alone with him, and he must just have swallowed one whisky-and-soda too many." Mr Penrose bristled up like an old ■watchdog. "Eh, what's that you say?" He was prepared to stand a good deal lather than fall out with a neighbour ■whom he believed to De a decent enough youth in the main, if somewhat unpolished; but he was not the man to let his niece be insulted under his roof. "01, nothing," answered Violet fretfully, as she threw herself down on a sofa. "He isn't a gentleman, that's all, 'but then nobody ever thought he was' so it doesn't signify." She was evidently a good deal perturbed, and looked as if so little would be needed to reudee her to tears that Cml hastened to take his leave. While le tos driving homewards under a starry sky, he devoted a few minutes to being sorry for the poor girl, and then dismissed her from hia mind, as he found ft pleasanter to dweli upon thoughts of one-who was immeasurably her superior Yes, he told himself, Mabel Penrose was well-born British maidenhood raised to its highest expression. Fresh, spontaneous, dean in heart and speech, liking the things that girls in her station do ■well to like , free from any taint of the .terrible, sinister vulgarity" which has of late years invaded every "class of English society. Pretty, toe, with a beauty that grew steadily upon you, though "it did lot startle you. It would be easy to iall in love with her. Or rather it would oe easy and pleasant to make love to her, gn-ena disposition on both sides towards acquiescence in benevolent schemes and M the promise of a smiling, placid furore. Since., however, that proviso was palpably -ranting, there was no more to be said about it, save that friendship renamed. Something to the above effect was the gist of his reply to Mrs. Spencer, who wet nun at the top of the staircase on ™= rentrn to Kingsmoreton, accompanied him to his sitting room, and demanded categorical information. - Well, that's aU right; that's as right as possible,"-was her verdict after he had concluded his narrative, which she had punctuated with. a succession of little Bods. -Didn't I tell you all along that J-ou would fall a victimto Mabel?" ♦wi 1 thou S ht I tad just told you that that is exactly what I haven't none. tho, d t kUghed " " Oh ' that ' S Wh3t TOU wwF L ou ™ re tellin s mc ; ' but W»t would be the use of having eyes tW--^. 18 " One had t0 acee P t evel Tuungthat reached them literally? Would J°a lite to know what is going to hap- £» You will take your time, both of C'il° n WOn,t be in an y h °t has te; . ™ the ensis ought to be reached by • .?* «• Jnl7 next, and the wedding, I Jrta think, might be fixed for NovS' " thereab °"ts. At any rate. I ggfct order a pink frock for it-pink SedVfr 1 dareSay y ° U haVen,t *>n«d that. lam Bt ffl in half mournaway his disclaimers, and Eht "ny X^ w ' I>m E° in S t0 bcd >" said m ij ' what an evening we did have! nsnM v. ,° r and sol ™ D whist, and the Weil'K 3 *. looks for you snow whom. 'to™™ \i c last for a g° od lon S time V^ e > th *nk Heaven! " e Aro , " echo Cyril. i n dismay. **yen deserting us, then?" * " 3-ou w m tw°T. mornin S's express. Do thanT* * *Ye been here for more out of T ntto? T ™ Messed months slowfnr+J; 3 es,sten< *, and nothing to from the Vlf a ' !f ept a much tip of Jr. dera old man, and the pleasure ..jT = your acquaintance." foil call that last boon nothing?" *™ mquirel laughing. TatioA y knOWB - vet - With culti " only „, & ro ' v U P into something: and , G "gaged are always ** see r rJ? raltivate - Yo » must let! s^Snb c r r e tv 0 " youbeforeyou place p^t* 1 ? lif m F betrothal is to take "By - nthe SUn «ner?" It's in tv" nS Up to Lond °n- of course, allowed, """P*"* that you are to be "Yes T oCCasiona l holiday, isn't it?" that- a'J - am to P leas e myself about mother L ln ? eed, X OU S ht " t0 P a y my Smother T L* vi3it new and then - °% ahm I y the a - v > is full of ouri " ;her tt y ° U - She a J s m 7 l etters % far ♦],. Ule lffl Pression that you are Jwson i? sf ; on "gJnal and interesting «tJ tae house" Bnt?t! he? Q«d " flair !» 110 «Tres^ ? ? Ed tbat Mrs - Spencer felt ao&ej. p ° nt ™g curiosity about Cyril's ' lo r sne did not offer to call

(Author of " X<ord Leonard the Xtuckless," etc)

upon that lady, as she might hare done. She scribbled an address in Sloane Gardens upon a scrap of paper, and tossed lit to him, saying: "There, that's my humble dwelling; mind you look mc up. Meanwhile, I have a parting word of counsel to you. Mabel is a girl in a thousand, and she has almost all the virtues and charms 'that there are; only she isn't what 3 T ou could call exceptionally quick at seeing a joke. It's necessary to be serious with her; otherwise she"l begin to distrust you, which will be apt to bring the whole Spanish castle down with a run. Goodnight." That criticism, Cyril thought, was not unlikely to be just. He had himself noticed that Mis 3 Penrose resembled the majority of good women in disliking irony, and of course it may prove a trifle irksome to spend your life with a person so constituted. However, as he did not contemplate spending his life i with Mabel, the caution had no special significance for him. CHAPTER Vm. MR. RIGBY'S DISCIPLE. "You have quarrelled with him, then? What a blessing!" Such was Mabel Penrose's comment I upon her cousin's proclaimed intention lof leaving for London forthwith, which was made known to her in her bedroom shortly after Bob Luscombe had taken himself off in deep dudgeon. Violet heaved a sigh. "It is some consolation," she remarked, "to think that if my arrival is always a bore to Ida, my departure is a blessing to you." "You know so well how untrue that is," returned the other, "that I am not going to give myself the trouble of contradicting you. Did he behave very outrageously i." "Oh," answered Violet, with a grimace, "one has been chased round billiardtabies before now. He behaved as men of his sort always do when they have had a little too much to drink. He is repenting already, and to-morrow afternoon he will certainly come over to lick the ground and implore forgiveness. That's why he won't find mc here." "Because you don't mean to forgive him, I hope." "No j only because I don't want to be obliged to do it so soon. It's just possible—of course, it isn't likely, still it's possible—that I may never be obliged to forgive him at all- There's the whole London season ahead, and with luck I may pick up one of the rich crumbs that Ida brushes off her table when she sees her way to devouring a richer one." "With luck," said Mabel, "you may meet some man whom you will really care for, and then it won't matter whether he is rich or poor." But Violet, who was out of temper, did not take this suggeestion in good part. ■"That's such rot!" she returned. "Of course the one and only thing I insist upon is that my future husband shall be at least moderately rich. If he has an amiable disposition and isn't downright repulsive to look at, so much the better; but details are details. What's the use of being a hypocrite?" "I am not a hypocrite," Mabel protested. "Oh, you, no! You're everything that you ought to be and can't help being. You come straight out of a fairy tale or a story by Miss Charlotte Yonge, You dwell serenely within the ring-fence of the property which will be yours some day; you visit the poor, you go to church, you have all the amusements that a really nice-minded young woman ought to wish for, and in due season you bestow your maidenly affections upon a Mr. Cyril Hadlow, who is respectable, good looking, and well-to-do. No wonder youadvise the rest of us to go and do likewise! That isn't hypocrisy, it's only— what shall we call it? —a very natural and becoming objection to look ugly facts in the face." It was not very easy to reproach Violet at any Time, and it was always vain to reason with her. She had a conscience of a sort and pride of a sort and refined instincts, with regard to which it could noly be hoped that they would assert themselves at the right moment: but to drive her demanded a firm, light hand, together with qualifications which were denied by circumstances to her cousin. Mabel quite realised that her own exceptionally fortunate lot gave her an air of insincerity when she attempted to preach sound doctrine; so she held her peace, although it was not the case that she shrank from facing such ugly facts as that Ida Tilehurst had not a shred of character left or that the dowerless Violet could hardly grant herself the luxury of being squeamish. Nor was there any truth in the assertion that she had lost, or was goirjg to lose., her heart to young Hadlow. Imagine losing one's heart to a man who regarded love as a transient insanity and marriage as depending for its success upon a basis of mutual toleration! But just as Cyril had said io himself that it would be easy to fall n> little in love with her, so she found that, alLhough he might not be lovable, it was impossible to help liking him. She saw him frequently, almost daily, after her cousin had left her and after he had been deprived of Adela's always diverting companionship; once or twice Sir Martin brought him out hunting again; more than once or twice he avail- i ed himself of some pretext to ridn or walk over to tea. Rapidly, insensibly, their intimacy developed; each gladly j recognised that there was no misprision of that intimacy on the other's part, and it hardly needs to be added that they wolud have been playing a rather dangerous game if any danger could be said to attach to a state of things so inherently desirable. "Don't you think it is rather odd I that we should hit it off so well," Cyril j a.skcd, one day, at the close of a proi tracted conversation, "seeing that we differ upon almost every subject under the sun?" "We agree upon one point," she nnswered; "we always want to get at the truth if we can, and we aren't above taking a lesson about things of which we happen to be ignorant." He nodded and laughed. "Oh, yes; we teach one another things. That is, you teach mc things. Thanks to you, I now know much more than I did about the art of venery; I have even arrived lat a glimmering of sympathy with your j Signified, picturesque Tory traditions, though I can't feel that there is any place for them in the twentieth century. But what have you learnt from mc, I wonder, except that, etchings are not produced with a burin?"

She had really learnt a good deal, her horizon having been permanently enlarged by what she had heard from him respecting the standpoint of Continental pioneers, and she was quite correct in stating that the main body of union between them was a common love of truth. After all, one may he a theoretical Republican, or even a theoretical free-thinker, without forfeiting the good will of the orthodox, so long as one refrains from translating one's theories into practice. Yet, sooner or later, the time is sure to come when a man, be he never so broad-minded, must needs avow himself a partisan, and to Cyril this time came when the Easter recess brought Colonel Bampfylde, the Conservative member for the Kingsmoreton division, down on a visit to Mannington, for the purpose of addressing his constituents. The Colonel, a middle-aged, mueh-respectcd landowner from the other side of the county, represented Unionism, and in that capacity enjoyed the support of Sir Martin Hadlow, whose late son he had succeeded; but the Unionist party was at that time beginning to be rent by internal dissensions; a general election was thought to be imminent, and the issues before the country were so involved that there was no longer any depending upon votes which had until recently been considered safe. "Between you and mc," Colonel Bampfylde confided to Miss Penrose on the evening of his arrival, "I hardly know what to talk about to these fellows. I know what I'd rather not talk about, because everything that our side has done of late is so open to misconstruction, and, generally speaking, one can find safety by confining oneself to matters of local interest. By this time, as bad luck will have it, they have got a grievance about that land of Hadlow's, which he won't sell, and I can't oppose Hadlow. They want to develop the pla-cc. you know, make it a seaside resort, build a pier and a pavilion and so forth." "And ruin it." "Well. I suppose their ideas of ruin may not be the same as ours. Anyhow, Hadlow stands on his rights and says he'll see them farther first." "And aren't you with him?" "On aesthetic grounds I am; I should be sorry to see Kingsmoreton transformed into a West-country Margate. But the butcher and the baker and the grocer would not be sorry at all. Like the rest of us, they are anxious to increase their incomes. and in these days it is dangerous for landlords to be obstructive." "Can Parliament prevent them from being obstructive?" "Not in cases of this kind; but Mr. Rigby is 'of opinion that Parliament ought to have that power, and electors can refuse to vote for a candidate who thinks otherwise." "Mr. Rigby ought to be ashamed of coming and stirring up strife in a constituency with which he has nothing to do." Tall, lean Colonel Bampfylde twisted Ilia grey moustache and laughed. "I quite agree with you my dear young lady. Unfortunately that is just the sort of proceeding in which these agitators delight; so here he is, and if my meeting? pass ofT without a row, I am sure it will not be his fault." It was perhaps no fault of Mr. Rigby's, a prominent and eloquent representative of Labour in the House of Commons, that he had been invited to •pay a flying -visit- to Kingsmoreton while prosecuting an Easter campaign amongst neighbouring towns of greater importance; but it was certainly a misfortune both for Colonel Bampfylde and for Sir Martin Hadlow that he had responded to the call. For nobody knew better than he how to inflame the slow passions of a stolid audience, nor could anybody be more honestly convinced that landlords are a selfish and tyrannical class. For the rest, a very decent man, with a gift of fluent oratory, shaggy, iron-grey hair, an unkempt beard and a twinkle in his eye. Kingsmorcton, already more or less vaguely dissatisfied with its lot for several reasons, some of which were not bad ones, was certain to be fascinated by his plausible fallacies. So, at least, Colonel Bampfylde predicted, and on the following morning Miss Penrose obtained unproof that one person who though not an elector, must bz accounted influential, had become an ardent disciple of Mr. Rigby's, as the result of having heard that gentleman speak. This was Cyril, whom she found busily engaged on an admirable pen-and-I ink sketch of Jacob Beer's head, and I whose animated conversation with his sitter was not interrupted by her approach, which indeed neither of them observed. They had established themselves in the sunshine outside Jacob's cottage, whither Mabel, after having driven Colonel Bampfylde into the town, had strolled up for a quarter of an hour's chat with an old friend.

"Now I bain't contradictin' of 'cc, mind," her old friend was saying; "I d' know but what Rigbee mcd be right if yu and mc and 'im was makin' a fresh start in outlandish parts. But this 'ere country's old England, d' yu see, sir, and avorc yu tarns England upside down yu 'm got t' convart a powerful lot o' yolk, I reckon."

"Just what we are trying to do, Jacob," the artist returned. "Don't look at mc, please; look towards your left shoulder —that's right! We are doing out best to convert you, and we shall undoubtedly succeed sooner or later, because it is your battle that we are fighting. You have only a foggy idea that some abstraction which you call by the name of God made the world as it is, and that you will get into trouble if you improve it."

"This 'ere world," retorted Jacob doggedly, "wur created in zeven days by th' Almighty fur th' use o' man. and cursed thru' th' disobadience o' th' zame, 'cordin' to Scriptur'. That I 'olds tv, 'straetion or no 's_traction."

"Very well; it was created for the use of mankind., not for the profit or pleasure of a handful of men. What was meant for all has been seized and is held by a very small minority. A great French writer expressed the truth in as few words as possible when he said 'Property is Theft.' "

"The pop'lation o th British Isles, if th' almanack bain't wrong," Mr. Beer, "is vorty-tu million in round numbers—zay twenty million males— an , acr'agc a matter o' seventy-eight million, with mebbe tv thirds perductive. Did Johnny Crappo think as there didn't owt to be a landlord amongstth' lot?"

"He thought that the land ought to belong to them all." "Makin' of 'cm propri'tors and consckcntly thaves. Twenty million starvin' thaves! 'cos tv an' a 'alf acres bain't gwine to save no man from starvin', mind, and 'tvouldn't work out to much more'n than by my ealc'lation."

"You don't see the point," Cyril be gan.

"Nor anybody else either," struck in Mabel from the background. "Mr Hadlow knows just as well as you do, Jacob, that he is talking nonsense. He is only

trying to excite you, so that he may throw a little more fire into his portrait, which is splendid, with the fire or without it." She bent over the artist's shoulder, upon which she laid her hand to prevent him from rising, while Jacob protested, "Lor love 'cc, my dear, there bain't no vire to be struck out o' mc by such vulishness!" But Cyril would not admit that he had been talking nonsense at all. He was himself much more excited than his model; he began at once to say what a Jplendid fellow Kigby was, with what satisfaction he had listened to a man who knew his own mind and w-as not afraid to speak it, concluding with a strong expression of opinion that in ths particular question at issue SiY Martin had not a leg to stand upon. "There never was a clearer case of legality being at variance with justice and equity," he declared. Mabel did not take him over seriously. "So you would like to disfigure poor Kingsmoreton for ever—you who call yourself an artist!" she exclaimed. "What I should like has nothing to do with the matter," he returned. "If the wishes of the inhabitants could be dismissed from consideration, I should like to pull down every building that nas been erected here within the last 30 years. But you can't disregard the wishes of the inhabitants; neither they nor their dwellings exist for the sole purpose of being picturesque." "Perhaps," observed Mabel more gravely, "we don't any of us know for certain what the purpose of our existence is. Most of us believe, though, that we are what we are and where we are by the will of the Higher Power which you called just now but I don't think you quite meant what you said—an abstraction." Now, this was approaching somewhat perilous ground with a young iady who had never had the shaaow of a religious J doubt in her life, and Cyril, well aware I that it behoved him to walk circum- ; spectly, was minded to hold his peace, as he had done hitherto on similar occasions. Still he could not resist pointing dumb and blind submission to the actual was a poor compliment to a Creator who was supposed to have enaowed his creatures with reasoning faculties for their guidance. The result was that the conversation became somewhat i heated and that in the course of it he was led into saying certain things which visibly distressed his hearer. The appearance of the Rector, accompanied by his curate Mr Sandford, was not unwelcome to the disputants and was hailed with a loud sigh of relief my Jacob Beer, weary alike of a constrained attitude and of unprofitable controversy. " "Tis a girt honour my old 'cad and zhoulder3 be gettin' his marnin'," he remarked, for the benefit of the new-comers, '•but they 'm made tv zuffer fur 't somethin crool, I tell 'oe! Wuss nor any i photergraf-men is these itchin' artisses, j let along their politics, which they lams straight from Old-Nick, savin , yer Rev' I rence's presence." J "Meaning Mr Rigby?" inquired the ! Rector. -'I rather like Mr Rigby's politics myself; they have the immense advantage of lying altogether outside the practical sphere, so that nobody need trouble to controvert them unless he likes. Confess now, you socialistic young artist, that ideals are alluring chietly because there isn't any danger of their being realised." But Cyril was not disposed to break a lance with the good-humoured Rector that morning. He had put away his unfinished study, together with his materials, and, muttering something about late for luncheon, took himself oil rather hurriedly. "We were in the midst of a wrangle," Mabel explained. "I am glad you came when you did, becuase I don't want to quarrel with him; but every now and then he goes a little too far." "Just what 1 feel, Miss Penrose," cagj er 'y agreed Mr .Sandford, a swarthy, I litlle, clean-shaven cleric who wore goldi rimmed spectacles. "I have had several talks with him latt'ly upon the subject of the so-called Higher Criticism, and so long as he confines himself to serious discussion 1 don't complain, for I can cope with him or any other sceptic there" — "Oh, no doubt," put in the Rector demurely. "But what I do object to is the levity with which he treats miracles. A man I may disbelieve in miracles; that is per- • haps more his misfortunethan his fault. But he should not assail them with such an easy and clumsy weapon as ridicule in the presence of a priest." "I don't think he should," said Mabel. "To say that an ass's mouth is not so formed as to be capable of articulate speech, or that anybody can produce a rainbow at will, is to beg the whole question." "Well, I daresaj' he would admit that," Mabel observed. "If so, the bad taste of such sneers becomes all the more apparent. And he is for ever bringing up Jonah," added Mr Sandford querulously. "For ever?" repeated the Rector, with raised eyebrows. "That certainly docs appear excessive. Once was enough for the whale." Mr Sandford refrained in a marked manner from smiling. He could not help thinking it a great pity that his Rector, whom he sincerely respected, should so often indulge in jocularities which might be interpreted as profanities by those who did not know him. Mabel, however, knew Mr Pickering , very well—so well, indeed, that she responded to an admonition which had not been verbally addressed to her. "Oh, I quite understand that Mr Hadlow is better than the principles that he proclaims," said she; "only I wish he would stop proclaiming them." "He will," the Rector assured her, "as soon as he perceives their incongruity. No man with ever so slight a sense of the ridiculous can be at one and the same time a landlord and a Communist, and as nothing can save Cyril from becoming a landlord, his Communism will drop off him, like his scepticism. Neither is more than superficial, I take it." The above estimate of his character and views would have struck Cyril as very superficial indeed. He walked awaj' feeling more annoyed, and also more discouraged than he .had done at any moment since his introduction to Kingsmoreton. From the first he had been under no illusion as to his power of adjusting himself to environments which were so little to his taste. Sport he could manage, or thought he could; magisterial functions, when, in the natural course of things, they should devolve upon him, he would be able to discharge without treading upon anybody's toes: while tenants would assuredly find him easy and sympathising to deal with. But he had always recognised that one really formidable lion lay., in his path, and it was a matter for regret that Rigby's advent and eloquence should have roused the animal. He did not want to distress Sir Martin and perturb the whole neighbourhood by placarding hini-

self as a Revolutionist; yet if you are an honest man and honestly believe in certain doctrines, circumstances may arise under which silence ceases to be permissible. Cyril, therefore, seeing breakers ahead, could not but be sorry that his conscience and temperament precluded him from shaping a safer course. Nevertheless, it may be that, had he held on to the course of selfscrutiny a little longer, he would have discovered that what had ruffled him was not so much the prospect of being compelled to oppose his best friends as the incident of his having gratuitously wounded one of them, and gone rather near to losing his own temper in the process. She had professed, indeed, to bs, as he was, an unprejudiced seeker after truth; but that, perhaps, is what none of her sex ever is, has been or will be, and it is only a fool who asks more of women than they possess. In other words he was a little disappointed in Mabel, and more than a little vexed with himself.

(To be continued next Saturday.)