THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 83, 10 April 1922, Page 10

THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

By KATHERINE TYNAN.

CHAPTER 111. THE GOOD COMRADE The train drew up in the midst of an immensely wide cornfield. As far as eye could see there was nothing but the gold of the ripened wheat. A little group of station-buildings and •"Schwartsberg" said the guard, standing by the carriage door. He said something else which Doreen took to mean that the train would stay there an hour, and moved on. Some passengers alighted. She was cold and rather stiff from the comfortless, cushionless carriage. She had had delicious tea just before crossing the frontier, and she had carried away with ber the sweet rusks and butter which she had not had time to eat. Her luncheonbasket also contained some fruit which the nuns had packed for her, with some little sugar-iced biscuits, crisp and delicious. She saw the one or two passengers disappear down the golden aisles of corn. They seemed irresistible to her, those wonderful white-gold aisles. There must be a pathway there leading to some village. But as far as she could see there was only the spreading gold. Xot a sign of a "berg"; no smoke stained ever so lightly the high, immense blue spaces of the sky. She got out of tiie carriage and followed the passengers. It was intensely hot in the cornfield where the golden clusters met over her head, but presently she heard the trickling of water, and there was a dampness about her feet. A little stream traversed the cornfield. The smell of the water and the wet earth was delicious in the torrid day. v She stooped and dipped her hands in it. drank from it. and bathed her brows with it. The other people had disappeared by this time. From somewhere very far away she heard the Angelus bell. She was saying to herself that she had better return —that a good part ot the hour was spent —when there rang out suddenly the whistle of the train. She must have been mistaken in what the guard had said; he was so uncivil that she had not dared to ask him to repeat his words; it was perhaps half an hour, or her watch had stopped. She ran in the direction of the station buildings, terrified, stumbling over uneven grass under the ground, through tussocks of rough grass under the wheat. She emerged from the long arches of the corn only in time to see the black train glide out of sight round a curve of the line. ' She stood for a few moments dazed by this unbelievable calamity. How had she come to be so stupid? That ' horrible guard! Why, he had seen her got Her blood beat in her temples; her lips were dry. Somehow the immense solitude of the cornfield that h«d seemed so beautiful, frightened her to the very heart. What was she to do? When would another train come? She had an idea that very few were likely to stop at this out-of-the-way station. Perhaps she would find something to enlighten her in the waiting-room on the railway platform. There might be someone there, some official, perhaps his wife and family, although the little station had shown no trace of life when they came to ilf. - -

Nerving .herself she went forward. The , waiting room was open, but there was no one there. It was a horrible, uninviting apartment, and it sizzled with heat because it was built of corrugated iron.. But—there was a stout holt on the inside of the door, and there was an open window high up. The place might prove a refuge if she had to wait there all night, or if she grew terrified of the wide, empty spaces, or perhaps of' human society. That might be worst of all; for in the solitude there would he Cod and the stars.

Having thoroughly examined the waiting-room and decided that there might be worse places in which to spend the night—it was now about five in the afternoon and the sun bad begun to descend the horizon —she crossed over to the other B ide. There was nothing but an open shed, but in a corner of the ehed her own tmnk, her travelling rug and bag and basket were laid neatly in a corner. After all, the guard must have thought she was alighting here. The sight of the familiar things gave her a queer sense of comfort and security. There was food in the basket too; and if the night came cold, as was very likely this time of year, the rug would he comfortable. She bade the things, In her own nnnd, wait till she was ready to move them, while she explored further. The exploration did not take long. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. The walls were bare of the usual time-tables. There was no indication that anyone ever lived in the place, or came there even for the purpose of distributing tickets.

She managed, to convey *her trunk, which was rather heavy, across the rails and into the waiting-room; then returned for the other packages. When she had done she realised that she was dusty and grimy. Fortunately she had a towel and washing things in her Bag, and Knew where to find water, although the station was as dry as the Sahara. While she got out what was wanted from her bag something rubbed against her skirts. She looked down, and saw to her amazement that it was a kitten, a black kitten with a white star on its forehead. It looked thin, but not on the whole in bad condition. Where had the creature come from? Had it escaped from the train? It was purring and rubbing itself in a most friendly manner about her ankles.

Why, a kitten was company; and a black kitten was lucky. She would rather it had been a puppy, but she was grateful for the kitten. She picked it up and petted it, and it purred. She got out her sandwiches, remembering gladly that some of them were chicken, and gave some meat to the kitten which devoured it ravenously. "I wish I had some milk for you, pussy," she said aloud, and was startled at the sound of her own voice, which seemed to reverberate against the iron walls.

She took her towel and 'soap, and with the kitten in her arm, went in search of tie little stream. She was not going to lose the kitten if she could help it. It was warmth; it was companionshiD* it waa luck. *'

S*e put it down and let it Up tbe £■*«■ which it did thirstily, as though It had been __. Then .he waehed g *** «"d bands in the little dear

She returned to the waiting room, feeling very much refreshed, and put down the kitten on the wooden seat which ran round the walls. It showed no indication of leaving her; she need not have beeri*afraid. Probably it was tired of being a lost kitten, for when she sat down on the rough table, whio was the one article of furnituTe the waiting room contained, and that securely clamped to the floor, the little creature climbed to her knees and then on to her shoulder. Outside it was growing misty; the sun was sinking, though his red rays still came through the window overhead, and it was growing cold. _owi grateful she was for her rug. Probably there would be a little frost to-night. Already it was in the air. When the darkness came she could bolt tbe door and she and kitty could creep into the rug and be comfortable together. It would not be dark for some time. Why, the sun must be going down splendidly. Through the open door she could see the white and. gold of the corn fields tinged with crimson. The sunset was the other side of the shed. She must watch it. All her life she had adored sunsets, even more than dawns. She had been combing out her hair, heavy hair that fell to her knees, fine brown hair with warm chestnivt in it where it rippled. It went with her brown eyes and her milk-white skin softly touched with rose. She had grown a more beautiful girl than she had promised to be in the years since she had left Ireland. Without waiting to put up ber hair, lest she should miss anything of the spectacle, she went out. AH around her the corn grew scarlet, miles and miles of it. and the splashes of colour made the little rails of the track bloodred, but the shed was between her and the splendid dying of the day. She turned the corner and stood dazzled before the magnificence of it, lifting her hand to shade her eyes, for the sky was a mass of burning splendour; and a multitude of little clouds blown up somewhere from the horizon lay curled and delicate like celestial rose- leaves floating against the western fire.

"1 beg your pardon," said someone quite close to her; and at the same moment the kitten grew rigid iv her arms and spat. A dog growled. 'Keep quiet. Michael!" said an imperious voice, but a very pleasant one. Doreen was suddenly aware that her hair was hanging about her. WiSt a

! spectacle she must present! Sis pSC a -hand up as though to restore it to its place, and the kitten, slightly released, took the opportunity to spring to her shoulder, and arch its little body defiantly under the veil of hair.

"I am so sorry," said the newcomer. "I'm afraid my dog has frightened your cat."

For the moment Doreen had forgotten the sunset. A sudden realisation of the absurdity of the position came to. her mind. What-, must he think of it, of her—her hair falling about her like a nereid, a black kitten on her shoulder — in this waste? It was like a cinema.

"I was accidentally left 'behind by the train," she said. "Luckily they put out my luggage, too. I was making the best of it till another train came. It does not seem as though very many would stop at a place like this." Suddenly their eyes met, and they laughed. Her heart was incredibly lightened. Surely it -was heaven who* had sent him, this countryman of her own, for his English was spoken witn a richness she remembered. And his dog —a big rough Irish terrier, was, looking' up at her with friendly eyes: Madame Thekla need not hare given her that warning against distrusting men generally because of one or two unpleasant experiences. She neTer thought of distrusting this big, broad-shouldered young man of thirty or so, with the very blue eyes in a tanned face; he had an agreeable, honest expression. "They told mc at the nearest village that there might be no train till to-mor-row. On the other hand tan excursion train might come through at any hour— their times seem very elastic—and be prevailed upon, to stop." "The nearest Village?" she said tentatively, standing full in the sunset, which seemed to set up strange deep fires in the depths of her brown eyes. "Six miles away and no accommodation for anyone," he said. "That is rather splendid, isn't it?" fie had turned about and indicated the sunset.

"1' had to run oirt to see it," she said apologetically. "I was just twisting up my hair. Of course I did not expect to meet you!"

"Of course not," he said. "I thought of going along the line to Aar, where there might be some accommodation. It is fifteen miles away." "Oh!" she said, with a gasp of consternation. Was he going to leave her, this new friend, who had somehow inspired her at sight with a strange sense of protection, of comradeship? All of a sudden she realised anew the immense loneliness of the great plains of corn, stretching away and away to the horizon, as far as the eye could see. He continued to "look at the sunset, which began to be tempered by streaks of palest green and lemon, cool as water.

"I have changed my mind about that," he went on. "It would be too much for you. I am not sure about their distances. We had better make the beet of it where we are."

Ah, that was good! He was not going to leave her. Perhaps Mother Thekla might have thought her too trustful. • Doreen never thought of not trusting him, this big, reassuring countryman of her own.

"I had better put up my hair," she said, with a sudden shynew. **If you will excuse mc." •

"Certainly," he \ said, and looked at the hair and then looked away. She turned to go, then looked back at him with a wistful half-smile in her eyes. * -

"You won't disappear 'before I come back?" she said—"you—and Michael? By the way, it is a queer place for appearances. First this kitten sprang out of the earth or somewhere—then you and Michael. You are not apparitions, are you ?"

"Feel?" he said, thrusting out his homespun arm. She laid her hand lightly on it, laughed and went off. What a difference his earning had made, wftat a difference! ' She did her fcair with more carefulness than she would bare dona earlier, mentally thanking the churlish guard that, if he bad left her behind, he had put oat ber iaggmps am wril!. There ma .bani-gtaaa _ ber bag. with mtrny ofiar Otm-A tka baapSmA haraaM %y

its aid. She was not conscious of her own beauty as she would have been of another's. She was satisfied that the milky skin with the very pale, wild roses in the cheeks was clean. How fortunate that she had thought .of the towel and soap! She wondered if he was provided. Probably, although his knapsack was not very big. If not, they would have to share. A little smile came to her lips A the thought. What an amusing adventure —with him! She acknowledged to herself that she would have been horribly frightened in the dark, alone in the midst of the cornfields.

The kitten suddenly sprang to her and clung with its little claws, as though it had divined her thought and was frightened too. "I don't know to whom you have belonged," she said aloud, "but I know to whom you belong now. We are not going to be parted." No longer did it frighten her to hear her own voice. The' fear, which she had only been keeping at bay, fell away. What a good thing human companionship was when it took the shape of the young man who" - was awaiting her return. "Come along and make friends with Michael," she said, and went out with the kitten on her ehoulder. (To be continued daily.) <