THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 90, 17 April 1922, Page 9

THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

CHAPTER Yin. MELDQN J S

• Poreen had put up at Meldon's Hotel by instructions of Miss Honoria McCabe. ■ "You can't go wrong about Meldqn's," ■he said. "Why," half %he smart marriages of the Sixties were made there. People used to come up for the Castle season and stay there, and there were such nice little nooks and. corners, and all those acres of drawing-rooms. My dear, any girl, however- plain, had a chance pi. being before the season was over, Meldon'e j a quiet, but it is the thing. No caravanserai, Michael Meldon will be dea.d or retired, but he had two ve ry capable daughters, rosycheeked young women, who helped him a good Qf course not like their father. He, was" a man in, ten thousand. Why, Lord Carlisle, when he vas Yieerejjfi shook hands with Michael Melden, and the most distinguished' of his patrons called hini f&gichael.* l * , So the Misses McCahe. had had their great days, before they came, down to teaching the daughters of the local ehopkeepers, who came, more because it kept them out of the" way for several hours of the day than because of any useful instruction ..they received Meldon's had been a Tat of a shock to Doreen at first coming, when there had been na one tq receive her, but a strident female voice, somewhere in the distance iad called to someone else, through a speaking tube apparently, Whije she hid «iood, bewildered, in the hall, an oldfashioned vita mutton-chop .whiskers, had* made his appearance and greeted her with ;» reepectfitf friendliaese. Later came Mies Meldon, a Wea-ther-beaten, elderly spinster with a hreezy manner, whom it was easy to identify with the voice at the speakingtube. .•--.-■ •■ « Then there wae Miss Marianne Meldon, who was delicate and nervy," "and left •wet of the bueinees $6. hipr more robust t. :> ws,v

Fashion had long deserted Meldon's Hotel, and its clientele at. the nonent Itemed to belong to a cl»ee which had lUtle »oney to spare. There were indeed a couple of title* ia the house, but (they belonged to broken-down peers a,nd landlords wfy» couldn't afford to st*y it the caravanserai o*er the way, so talked tondly about the of the % hotels and the greater homeliness of fte email ones, of whick Meldon'e bad come to be one. '■''* ■" fae Mieses MeWon were not. program give. There were acres of private suites which their present clientele could not . afford to pay for, co the; remained uafased, while the guests crowded into little and inconvenient rooms. Rumour in the .. hotel had it that the ladies h>4 made ! fteir pile and would soon an afcrming rumour for many of the gueete, elderly ladies, with, corkscrew curls and obvious fronts, who could enjoy the gentility of Meldon'e for half the price to be paid at a glittering modern hoteL There was not much to amuee a girl like Doreen, who was, however, v/Sy p«saing through. There was nothing modern at Meldon'e, no lounge, a disgraceful smoking-room, no cards, no dancing; the household was in bed by half-past ten o'clock, unless someone •.■•./went to a theatre, which was a 'ra.re. It was the afternoon of Doreen's second day at the hotel. She was going down to Drumoughter by the mail in ; the morning, and bad informed Miss Meldon of her intention. Hiss MeMon was very friendly, not to sly. intimate, with her clients.

. in here," die said, opening the <So°r of her sittingxoom. 'Td Ufce you to tell mc how you happened to come here. We' don't get many pf your age. Not but what it's a nice qniet hotel for • girl travelling alone. W« never* get Wowe than Lord Beechgrove, and heY a 5 gentleman, drunk or sober. It was old Lady Beechgrove's fault: too much ehurchgoing and too narrow a, religion. He and his brother broke away from it ■as eopn as they could. The wont of it nqthey didn't know when to, atop. Xow,-tell mc, who recommended Uβ!" you will have forgotten the Miwes are two—indeed there is a third. It was 'Miss Honoria I , told mc to come here." "Miss afcCabe! Mies SMcCtebe!" repeated Miss Meldon, "why, to be sure! I I femeinber seeing them. ' They weren't . °ver young then—the eldest must have Seen well up iii the thirties, and Marianne and I were just learning to be useful to my father. Hip w§£ very eorry when the trouble came and Hyacinth ; aieOafoe shot himself and left those poor I things on the world. There was a ! ftrong-minded one who had gone away Wore that. They never had much money- just enough to Hiake a little eh(jw pn- and. those t»e «ikiwH i*«* married. * Honoria was a - beauty. I often heard my father talk about t*e letters and parcels and bouquets that were always coining for was generally here on, Valentine's IJay, unless it happened to fall in lent, and Fve heard my father say that the other firls were all jealous of Mies Eonoria MeOabe's Valentines.* The younger one fa*d her share; I forget her name.'They (paid have married well* but perhaps they were too particular, like ourselves. Theire was a lover in Honoria's case, not mwh of a one! He f|e»rted[ hf? «* eß the trouble came. , *." ' •-" She ran on from on«, tale to, another. 9>e was a perfect epitome of the social hie of Dublin in the palmy yean when Meldon's was a centre of it. Old scandals, old "sins, old' sorrower old love affairs. How the *ite SJKfoael MeWon iad been the firs/ to congratulate the Duke on hie engagement' t« Lady. Harriet; how- h e £ad the Hon. Charles good luck in tie hall as the gallant gentleman ' and " etraight rider *fnt off to ride Bridal Blossom for the ?rince of Wales' iflace a>' Kiechfjiowfl, «nd incidentally to break hit neck at the big jump, many such stories. ' '".■"• 'tfust cpme here!" fhe said, and oT ew Doreen to look between file window «ff" . Wns. 'Ok,, yqu the couple creeping along over there on the sunny side of the street. Hβ shuffles <with.«hje feet and as thin as.a gho*t and powdered and painted out of all .reason. They.re prematurely old, both of them. She w»? the greatest b«iuty "in jSuJJHn in her time and he was one of the most elegant young They were madly in love with each other, but sjie w«s married to. a brute and she ran away with himT4ey get married f«r j**p' : because the hu»b§nd wouldn't 4i?**f? *«r. They tad to wait for hie death. It tooke nearly %11 th 3 pricl? §?d V^- 1 " W, and it' ruififd htm, %# oreating !liis'h'e*rt.\" JLook at him! '■PJ night be eighty in?teff. PJf &ty **> die's scraggy that had the lovebest necfe ' *8d shoulders of her time."

By KATHARINE TYNjtfr.

on two . d m**«k black figures passed £? * f4OW M P*« ed over her

Just etand said Miss Meldon, as an pjen fly uphefore the 1 r I» n *y<» v look at those peope. They are staying here, but theyve the* own eittingroom and have «il m j* 1s * *«£ they're out the rest or t&e day, so maybe you haven't seen

Standing the eqi the Heavy curtains, Doreen looked as she was bidden. A tall, broad-ehpuldered man was lifting two or three toy dogs out of the fly, and setting them down carefully on the path, where they stood shivering, despite coats. His hair was iron-grey. The unusually, broad shoulders, which had somehow » familiar loojc to Doreen, though she. could not recall the association, h%& a preasedr dqwn l«ok as though their owner carried t burden.

a "'^ ve * k°k •* h'«n»" said Mies Meldon. "Isn't that, «. nice employment for a husband? He's, ajwaye dragging about those little bea*te. Yieipus little wretches, ttiey are too. Then? owners are always having to pay people. they've bitten. Jfaw* there's a tragedy!"

It seemed te Doreen that most of Miss Meldon'e tales were tragic.

TKe man, with the same weary and patient air, lifted, the woman from the fly, set her otf-the pavement where a maid receded her, and tdok; her wraps from her. He followed them up the steps carrying tb,e small dogs in his arms. Doreen ha.d seen nothing of the lady's face. Her head and/ large hat were swathed in c white veiL But ehe looked Ismail and oW, and she seemed to lean heavily on the maid's arm, The brown,' lean cheek of the man was turned towards Doreen. He looked as though he might be the woman's epn—yet Miss Meldon had said "husbaed.'-"-

I "Tve pore. three-volume novels in ujy : said Miss Meldon, siting down mannishly in a. chair and putting both, hands deep into the pockets of her tweed coat, "than »w» ey«r likely to be written. M%j*e HI write some of them yet, or tel\ the stories to. aomenne who wilj know howto make use of them. Not all for your ears, my dean I have known a f ew wild ones, men and women. They're often the best loved. But tho&e people you saw go in, that's a story of* a useless sacrifice. She* twenty year e ofcfer than him if she's a day. She was euppoaed to 'be a dying woman when he married her. She'd bamboozled another good man before that, »nd he handed her on to this one when he was dying. Take tare of her and. make her happy while she lives,' he said, "it won't be tot long. I There's only one way with a woman a* beautiful as she is. Take it, and I give you my blessing.' He took it," Miss .Meldon- went on with bitter-, ness, "and she's living still. It was a dozen yeare ago, and hie marriage broke the heart ».nd spoilt the life of the woman he was engaged to. Now'that's where a man's a fool, I say. No woman would have done it. Perhaps Fin wroKg; perlMips ti»e woman he ought to have married knew and approved. She didn't Ifr\vk th»« one* going to, take a new lease of life "

Hew cad the worlj wag! Dues Mctaed to have fallen over tip joy aarij the pror miw of life. W»a it so that chivalry and faithfulness rewarded? "Wae ahe so tea^tifulT ,, ahe asked.

my dear. *TFon could epan her little waist with your hands. And her anMea .. . I've , seen her dancing and you wouldn't think they and the' little feet could support her, slight as eke waa. I remember her in a red red, and red stockings and shoes, and *£• dancing with the first husband.'" Her eyes were as large as saucers, and said a good deal more, and she had a way- of dropping her head on her partner's ehoulder when she danced. She might have Veen a flamefajrj t- " And the poor man—a fine, beaoiiful fellow—you'd think he was. holding the mast precious thing under Heaven, and was afraid of kit ltfe it would break in hia hold. , ' " . - v , "And the woman who broke' \%x heart?*

i*One of the finest «ce«tuMa «yerstepped. She wa«i>'t the langniahing' sort." She was as straight and supple: as a' , boy, and ahe gave ail shehadj, ejie l«vei " There wae never the leant breath of scandal about her, for all that the wae an setrcM. In-, deed it was a pity of him losing her, and all for a chest as I call it, tor tk»t woman you've juet seen nuat h»re known what she was doing."

"Oh!" said Doreen—"l "wonder. T aema to remember things. Iβ he, by any"chance,"ißtephen Verney?" "Sir Stephen. * He's gene far since then. Some men would have gene to | the devil. He took it in hard work. ; It and the aged him. He j can't be much more a forty. He waits on her hand and foot, ac you've seen. A eelflsh exacting old woman. She wa_s brought up to think of her aches and pains. Mind you, she was as pretty ac a witch, anil there's a charm fpr soinjji men in an filing *oman. 4ny- | how she's seen down one fine fellow, and see down another, may*». Wh»tever fault lie committed agajnst poor Peggy Hamilton he has expiated." * >Db you think he wperiteT 1, ?Ily. y d»«. you h*v«.dnly to see hie face. , ' Miss Meldon laid a hand en Doreen's am as to empharai $« statenifint. "A gentleman wlie leit the hotel the day be(ore you ¥elvertonrryqull have ref d hi» poetry, "saidlio mc: 'aiiss Meldon, who is ttie grey-haired man who looks as though "the S"irfef S»4" "coi«rfed \vmT yrfsi&Tton fa-tft talk lik« other eeohle, kut, for once, J knew what he A little later Bofpen Ve'rney on the stair*. He was carrying one of his wife> little dogs thatpie absurdly wearing a coat with embroidered initials at' one corner. Of course, he did not recognise her. How could he stepped cqurteously aside to makf way for her, the cold light falling from a. window at the head of the staircase was on his face. ; ■ .. - : She acknowledged the justice ;of Mr. Yelverton'e Thie man Bad indeed been scourged by the Furies. H» face was fMttSrby innumerable small Ifaies; his. ftatures wfre haggard; hie eyes in thfir hdlftw». And she remembered him so debonair, laughr i-if, fci, arm laid about Peg*r ■ Hamil-lon's-ehpnlders with a fond posseseive air. Her heart bled for him.: j

The little bedizened woman, with the absurd touches of scarlet in her hat and the magnificent fur coat, uneuited. for i the mild autumn day, whom she caught a gjiimnse of later, looked sjnalier, elder, more shrivelled for the rich clothing.' It came to her suddenly ac she thought of the odd experiences of the for a woman of Peggy Hamilton's spirit it was strange that she should have been completely wrecked by ' this marriage which had turned out so miserably. She had thought of Stephen Verney's marriage as a shameful betrayal. Now, for the life of her, she could not revert to that point of view. He ha 4 gained nothing by the marriage; he had lost all; it was writ- ' ten in the tragedy of his face.

"Why!" said Doreen, with a sudden uplifting of her spirit, "to have been e» loved and so. mourned might be 'a greater pride to softie women than a nappy marriage. She would forgive; her own wounds would be forgotten; she wouhj only think of hi a if she could see his-lace;" N 'To be continued dally.)