THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

Auckland Star, Volume LIII, Issue 95, 22 April 1922, Page 23

THE HOUSE ON THE BOGS

By KATHERINE TYNAN.

CHAPTER KILT. LOVERS' MEETING. Doreen was in the railway carriage going up to Dublin. She had left the house in the process of being turned out by Mrs: Scott, with the assistance of guzette, the black-eyed girl she had eeen at the lodge. Pierre, in his shirt-sleeves, •was helping with a will. Margot was lying in .bed. very ill, it was easy to see, but as obstinate about seeing a doctor as her mistress had been. The house ■was the brighter for Margot'3 being out of the way.

The iilncss had been a sudden one, and Mrs. Scott, -who had been up to make the patient as comfortable as might be, reported cheerfully that Margot was dead from the middle downwards and not much of her alive above that, ex-■cept-her eyes, aiid they terribly wicked in her head. But as the information 'was imparted with much gaiety and flavins of white teeth on Mrs. Scott's .part Doreen had not taken it seriously.

•'You'll look after Miss Hamilton ■while T'm away,'' she said for the twentieth time, and remembered that Mick Dempsey's manner about Mrs. Scott had connoted an ill opinion of ' her. She might be a villain, but at least, she was a bright and cheerful Her air of clean and ibustling efficiency was very pleasant in a house where so much dirt had been allowed to accumulate and -so many shadows lurked in the corners.

"I'll sleep in the house, meself and Suzette," Mrs. Scott replied, "till you come back, miss. Sure, if the oul' woman was to take a bad turn in the night, it would never do to have only the mistress and Pierre to close her eyes and lay her out. Many*s the lovely corpse I've help to lay out. Not that Margot 'II be anything but a* fright, livin' or dead."

In the railway carriage which she hadto herself for a considerable portion of the way, Doreen smiled,with a last reminiscence of Mrs. Scott coming downstairs with a pail of very dirty water. "I'm after scrubbing out her room," she said. ' s lf looks would have kilt, I'd he no better than a corpse. I never heard such scoldin'. jLucky- it was French, so I couldn't-make out what she called mc; the English of it was- all hisses like' the talk the geese do be 'bavin. "Whisht, woman,' I kept sayin', ' 'tis only a dry rub wid a 'paraffin rag I'm givin' it.'" God forgive mc for tellin' a lie,- an' the water slooshin* like the Falls of Niagara."

As the train came nearer Dublin various bucolic gentlemen entered the compartment from stations the train stopped at. Doreen gathered from their talk that the nest day was market-day. She listened to the conversation with an - interest she would not have' felt at another time, ,-he solitary or all but solitary confinement at Moat had made . a whiff of the world pleasant to her, as ' though it was fresh air after * stagnant -~place; The homely country talk ..of cattle and crops and prices was a relief 'after the many morbidities of life at Moat. "- . j

One of the bucolic gentlemen —they were pleasant to her eyes in' their homespuns and leggings, with their rosy country faces —had handed her a newspaper, behind which she sat and listened to the talk. She was in a cheerful mood. All was going well. With the house on the Mall in order, ehe might hope" jio transfer' Miss Hamilton from her gloomy surroundings. It seemed likely enough that the matter, of the undesirable servants .would be settled by Margotfs death. With'Margot gone Doreen had an idea that Pierre might be- desirous of returning to his own country. Whatever sins he had committed* might be atoned for by his years of' subjection to the terrible and now revolting woman who might have been his mother rather than his wife. It was clear, cold, sunny weather, "an open winter," as one of her fellow-tra-vellers had just remarked; "glorious weather coming near Christmas," the man he spoke to had assented. Doreen's heart sang, uplifted by an unreasonable hope. She was like a wild bird escaped from the cage —to which for love's sake she was willing to return. It was good to be out in the free world again, even for. awhile. Her eves, roamed over the landscape, the flat, rich country where cattle moved, knee-deep in grass although it was winter, to the distant range of low, gracious mountains. It was Christopher,'Lavery's country, and she thought of him with a greater desire to meet him, again than she had yet experienced. Sh*i was caught in such a tangle of things that enmeshed her as ha* the cobwebs in the deserted house. Sometinaes she had been afraid of the cobwebs; they had seemed to cling to her m/ind as those others had to her hair a~ki eyes. Such terrors and troubles, sraadowy things, might bind stronger titan steel if one did not fight against tpem. j The thought of Christopher Lavery— (Aenn, honest, vigorous—had been sometihbig very reassuring in the house of Ominous shadows. He might be depended to walk through a wood ofc°bwehs, /scattering, them as he went. Why, his [very presence would dispel creeping and /clinging things. j ■_ / ■■■■-. :Bhe could place him hire in this land- "\ scape, walking among his cattle. There / had been an air pleasantly pastoral I about him; something of the scent of new hay had clung to his clothes With the thought, her desire to see him agiin was strong upon her. The train was drawing up at Enfield. Some- : one got in with an apology for his dog, hoping that no one minded. Shelookea up with an incredulous hope. It wa» Christopher Lavery! He had passed her by, hidden "_*»**■« her paper, without seeing her, and had taken the seat at the other end of the carriage. She was awaTe without looKine that he had unfolded a newspaper. She heard him greet one or two other men before settling to read the morn-

ing s news. There had not been one trace of consciousness between them during that companionship of theirs at the station amid the cornfields. They had been just the best of good comrades; no more. His frank, brotherly manner had made it so easy for her, so easy. Often since she had though* of his way with her, saying to herself, "What a man to take care of a woman!" and had thought it with a warm glow of feeling for his perfect chivalry/ In a situation that might so easily have been made awkward. She had* not had time to thank him for turning aside from his journey to place her in safe keeping with the kind English family. She had thought of writing to him, but she had felt it difficult to write from Moat. "She

could only have written formally without reference to her circumstances—the secrets of the house were not hers to tell.

And here he was, not two paces from | her! his presence making a world of; difference in the cramped Bpace of the railway carriage! She scarcely dared to breathe. Shyness, consciousness had rushed upon her. She hardly knew whether she was glad or sorry because of his presence. It was her first experience of the queer medley of feelings in which the much-desired had become something almost to be dreaded, in which she was cold and hot. Why, if he could have left the train without seeing her, she would have been almost relieved, although she might be bitterly sad afterwards. Most of all, she feared his being aware of her conscious: ness. What would he think of her? Would he read in her face the confusion, the Btruggle which he had done nothing to create. She almost wished he would go without seeing her.

Suddenly there was a thud. Mick, who had been-sitting bolt upright by his master, sniffing the air with an uplifted head, had jumped on to the floor of the carriage and was making his way towards her over the outstretched feet and legs of the other passengers. He was standing up against her knee, looking into her face, his tail wagging recognition.

"Come here, Mick!"

Christopher Lavery leant out to sum mon the dog. *- "Hullo!" he said with such manifest pleasure in his tones that the othei men looked up from their papers oi their conversation with each other, tc see what had caused the exclamation Some of them smiled. The man whc sat next to Doreen stood up and M changed seats with Kit Lavery Then he was. sitting beside her, looking a! her with such frank delight that con sciousness fled away. She smelt thi homespun of his clothes again. Sh< knew she had coloured, but thai was nothing. She was able t< look at him as frankly as he looked al her. The Blight wave of something un comfortable, almost like sickness, nac passed away. Oh, it was good whei friends met! He was raining questions upon her euch as all the world might hear. Ho had ehe fared on her further journey Had the English family been good t< her! Where had ehe been hiding hersell Whr had ehe not answered his lette which he had sent, c/o Miss McCabe, a Guildford? , _• She answered his flow of question acroes the yellow head of Mick, who. ha< jumped up between them. She had no had the letter. It had not occurred to - her that he might write, though she had given him the address. She had not "written to her old friends who had an amiable curiosity which, as things were, she could not satisfy wholly or m part. "Where are you staying?' he asked. if "Meldon'e.'' . - • Cv s - , «Why; not the Shelbourne? Meldon s has grown mouldy." v, ,< , _"•_! It*was quite trun. that Meldon's had grown mouldy. She laughed with a sense of adventure. _ • "Will there be any difficulty about a room at the Shelbourne! I have not written." , "None. I shall give up mine to you, if need be. I always stay there Wednesday night before the cattle market. They know mc." , It was delightful to he taken care of again by him. She had had reasons for going to Meldon'e. Of course it was quite improbable that Stephen Verney and hia wife would etill be there, but she would hear news of them from that tireless gossip Miss Meldon. "Shall i" come to Meldon's?" he asked, as they etood on the platform waiting for the car which he had summoned. "I shan't mind if'you,prefer it?" But no! Nothing would have induced her to arrive at Meldon's with Christopher Lavery in tow. What a talk Miss Marianne Meldon would make of it! "The Shelbourne let it be!" ehe said. "The friend I am with thought I would like it better than Meldon'e. *You will see the live people there,' ehe said. 'At Meldon's you only see the frumps.' You see, it had changed even in her day." They drove across Dublin on an outside car, a delicious adventure , for Doreen. The freeh west wind that came into the Dublin streets, sending the clouds scudding acroes the moon, blew away the last trace of her cobwebs. How much she would have to tell Miss Hamil ton when ehe got back! They had dinner at a little table to gefher, in the big dining-room of th« hotel which was emptying ac thej arrived. The lights, the flowers, th( people coming and going, were an exhila ration to Doreen. The waitere glanced at her curiously, as did many of thi guests; Christopher Lavery seemed t< be known to a considerable number o pereone. . He saw to it, with his air of elder brotherly kindness, that ehe made i good dinner, as he did. He ordered i pint of Perrier Jouet and filled her glass "It is good for people after a journey, he said, when she remonstrated. It wa all so delightful an adventure to Doreer and the being taken care of was B pleasant that it was no wonder peopl noticed her bright look of happiness. •'Honeymooning," said someone wh did not know Bat Lavery; and the on addressed, who did, answered that i looked as if it might come to thai though he bad not heard that Kit wa engaged. She was a deuced pretty gir anyhow- Doreen was indeed .looking he best in her joy at meeting with Xi Lavery again. The flat, dull ache of fee ing which had come hard on the firs excitement of the meeting had yielde to sheer joy. The hotel wae very full. Even tl nook at the head of the staircase whei there could be a solitude full in the vie' of all who came and went, was occupie He suggested a theatre, and she agree While ehe was putting on her cloak 1 rang up the theatre and secured a box. Doreen had never been to a theatre : her life. What a wonderful evening wae and was going to be! . The Dubl cab in which they drove to the theat might have been a fairy chariot, s delightful did it seem to Doreen. Tl theatre was only half-full and the pie vapid, but ehe was not exacting. Tht talked between the acts, and he wei away for a second and came back with ■beautiful box of chocolates which he la in her lap. •_. ■ _ "I met Ferrier downstairs when 1 w buying your he said gail "He is at the Shelbourne. What do y« think he asked me—if I was married i

He had begun without any consciousness. Suddenly he paused, jerked his words a little. and went on hastily:—.

"I said you were a friend who had been out in my charge since we happened to stay at the same hotel. Ferrier was quite satisfied. He said 'Quite right, too. I don't like the modern customs. She's too young and too lovely to be wandering around the world by herself.' That is what Ferrier said. You need not look rebuke at mc as though I had said it!"

He let no hint of the consciousness return in his manner or expression, but it was there, making a thrill between them. As 6he was wearing a fur coat, he took her back to the hotel on an outside car. It was a beautiful night of full moon, which disappeared behind the scudding clouds of silver light into deepest caverns of blue, only to reappear again sailing serenely across the violet spaces. The lounge at the Shelbourne was deserted when they returned. She had a feminine desire for tea, and he ordered it for her. The fire' was still burning brightly, and while they sat by it, on the velvet couch which commanded a view of all who came and went, she began to tell him something of her story. He had heard of Miss Hamilton. "My mother used to rave about her white skin and red hair," he said. "She was very much beloved. She used, to do wild, generous things without caring for what anyone thought of her. It was a sad ending." "It is not ended yet," said Doreen, going on to tell of her new hope's fOT her benefactress. "You should not be there," he said pulling her up sharply. "There are queer stories about those French servants of hers. As far as I understand it, she is just not quite mad enough for an asylum. We are easy-going people in Ireland ahout such things. In a country where the letter of the law was more implicitly obeyed, she might be held to have passed that border-line." "Oh. no, no!" Doreen broke in. "It is only that her great heart suffered betrayal or she thought it did. It has ; poisoned her life. If she can come to believe, if it can be proved that the man was more binned against than sinning. I believe it would mean new life to her." j M Sitting there, in the quiet room, she j Isold him the story of Peggy Hamilton's and he listened with grave interest, asking a question now and again. ,_« They were still talking when they bei, :came aware of the mournful waiter who looked in upon them now and again and departed; the hotel went to bed early. "Well, it is good-bye," she said, standing up and holding out her hand. "Only good night," he returned. "I shall be in for a late breakfast in the morning. After that I am at your service. I hope you will trust mc to help . you." What a difference it made that it was only good night and not good-bye! Yet in Doreen's dreams that should have been only happy things, Peggy Hamilton called for help as she had heen accustomed to call through the years. (To be continued daily.)