A MODERN MARRIAGE

Auckland Star, Volume LVIII, Issue 89, 16 April 1927, Page 32

A MODERN MARRIAGE

By RONALD PEMBROKE

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

NEIL GRIERSON was on his way from Lerwick to Aberdeen and London to bejrin the adventure of living, his intention being to enter a solicitor's office. His uncle, JAMES MATHIESOX. school inspector, accompanied him on part of the journey, and gave him some good advice. On the boat he met DIAXA, who gave no surname, but whose personality instantly attracted him, and Neil suggested that as she was going through to King's Cross station, he should cut short his stay in Aberdeen and accompany her. Diana raised no objection. In walking through the streets of Aberdeen while waiting for the train Neil sawDiana in a teashop with another woman and a man. At the station she was still in the man's company, and a demon of jealousy took possession of him. He got into a carriage as far from Diana's as he could find. CHAPTER V. Neil had grown nearly to manhood without having experienced the thrill of a really long railway journey, and it would have argued a disagreeably blase trait in his character if he had remained totally uninterested as the train bore him southwards. Despite his dark thoughts concerning Diana he found himself constantly straining to catch a viewthrough the window, especially on that part of the route to Arbroath where the train flashes suddenly from a green cutting and seems to whirl along the edge of a precipitous cliff with the North Sea curling and breaking at its base. Or, later on, when the long Tay Bridge is being crossed at sober pace, or the train clatters sombrely between the massive steelwork structure over the Forth. At these times Neil would regret that he had not secured a window seat, and would blame Diana for it; and would remember that somewhere in the long train were a new walking stick and a macintosh which he had deposited respectively in the two corner seats he had intended for Diana and himself; and would blame Diana for that. He lunched in the restaurant car. He was half afraid of meeting Diana and her companion there, but felt that he owed it to himself not to be kept away by that fear. If she came in she would see him.making the best of a good meal, and would at least not have the satis faction of thinking that what she had done had destroyed his appetite. In point of strict fact he was not at all hungry, and the hurry with which the courses were served jarred on his jangled nerves. But he sat through the meal doggedly, his eyes more often than not on the doorway through which Diana must enter if she came. Mentally he prepared for her a stare that would effectually counter her look of surprise. Should she have the temerity to speak to him, he would soon show her how indifference could be countered by indifference. But no Diana appeared. After leaving Edinburgh the train settled down to an uninterrupted run of many miles. Three of his fellow passengers had got out, and there was a little room in which to sprawl a pair of long legs. Neil sprawled—and pondered the morning's happenings with greater detachment than hitherto. From Diana his thoughts strayed to the man he had seen with her. This was obviously the man who had been in the cafe, and whom he thought he remembered, though he could not see his face. On Aberdeen platform he had had a clear view of the fellow; but his angry emotions at that moment had prevented him from "placing" him then and there. Now, in a flash, it came to him where he had seen him before. It was in the deck smoking room of the St Ninian, and he was the aristocratic-looking, somewhat reticent individual who had been in Shetland on business connected with the purchase of ponies. What on earth could Diana have to do with a purchaser of ponies? Piecemeal, he recalled his own conversations with Diana. She had been expecting to meet a "friend" on board, and had referred to this friend as "she." Later on she had politely informed him that the friend was not there. Why such mendacity? Then he remembered Uncle Jamie telling him that their two fellow passengers were indisposed. Doubtless they had gone to their cabins, and had stayed there until the end of tho voyage; neither was at breakfast. Followed the affair of Uncle Jamie's umbrella, and the unseen departure of Diana. It was quite possible that she had not met her "friend" until they were both leaving the boat. In that case she had not consciously lied to him. That at least was a point in her favour. Neil felt himself to be generous as well as just in his consideration of this detail. ~,. . But why had she not told him—warned him? Why, oh, why? Had she done so, he would have been disappointed, but not outraged. The man might be an old acquaintance of hers—a relative who was not outside the possibilities—with whom she had previously arranged to travel. He, Neil, would not have disputed the priority of his claim to her company, if the position had been put to hun fairly and Diana had meant to tell him on the "St. Ninian," but could not find him. That confounded umbrella! Even so, she knew ho would be waiting at the bookstall, and had she chosen, could have explained the situation in a few words. He would, he told himself, have forgiven her for having represented that her "friend" waa a "she." Thereat his brown darkened again. She had not taken this course which was demanded by the rules of ordinary courtesy; she had simply ignored him. That was the galling part of it. So light was her esteem of him that as soon as the other man turned up, she put him out of her mind. He had been worth a few minutes conversation to her. He had been worth, a pledge lightly given. After that, he had not been worth a thought. It stung. As the afternon w„.. on, there was no lightening of his spirits. There was a ten-minute stop at York, and he got out and went to the refreshment room to buy himself some food. He felt he could not face the restaurant car again. The train crept sedately into King's Cross Station about midnight. Neil's limbs were cramped and his head felt stuffy from the long confinement in a close atmosphere. All his fellow-travel-lers stood up to remove their belongings from the racks; half-dazed he found himself doing the same. Then out on to the grimy platform—a unit in a general movement, a unit without volition of his own. The air here wa3 stagnant, acrid; his breath came painfully. A drowsy porter stood by him. "A box in the van," said Neil, "and please get me a cab,'*

: A.uthor of "When Flora Listened," etc.-*

The man took charge of him, piloted him to the ever-increasing pile of lugpage being disgorged by the rear van. In a few minutes Neil identified his property, and the porter seized and bore it towards one of the line of waiting , taxis. Then only did Neil permit himself to glance up the length of tho wide platform illumined by the glaring arc '-. lamps overhead. There they were, not eighty yards distant; pacing slowly up and do'wn— , talking, still talking. Evidently they , were in no hurry to claim their baggage. Evidently too, they were wrap- . ped up in each other and had no eyes \ for anybody else. * ! He, Neil, might never have existed. The flood of his self-pity almost choked him, as he averted his eyes and began to walk slowly towards the cab. j She might have given him one more '. glance, spared him one more smile; there had passed many hours in which ! she would have had leisure to remem- ' ber that he was on the train. Ho didn't want her apologies, cared nothing for her explanations; the circumstances ; easily explained themselves. But this : complete sweeping of him out of her j mind, out of her world. "What address, sir?" Neil had forgotten where ho was ' bound for. He had to search hastily : for the slip of paper that Uncle Jamie had given him on the "St. Ninian." Ah, here it was— "Mrs. Haig, 5, Northumberland Circus, « Islington." I He tipped the porter and stepped into the taxi. CHAPTER VI. Neil's lodgings had on the whcle been happily chosen. They consisted of two rooms on the top floor of a modestsized terrace house, and tho sitting room overlooked the "Circus," otherwise a circular plot of grass, shrubs and a few piano trees, enclosed by high iron palings and surrounded by roadway. With its sloping attic roof it was apt to be a little close when the June sun beat, upon the slates; but its floor measurement was respectable, and the Victorian furniture not too distressing. The bedroom was smaller with a cavernous fireplace and looked over a far-stretching sea of slates and chimney pots—due not to the height of the house but to the fact that it stood on a slight eminence. Neil found tho bed quite comfortable. The night, or rather the early morning of his arrival, he did not se his landlady, who had gone to bed. A small, swarthy man, who introduced himself as Mr. Haig met him at the door. He seemed to Neil cither too sleepy for conversation or naturally taciturn. The welcome he gave was polite, but lacked geniality, and tho business-like dispatch with which he transported (Neil assisting) the heavy box upstairs, and practically shut the bedrom door upon his new lodger, suggesting that he was not in tho habit of bestowing much attention on that breed. Later on, when Neil had come to know Mr. Haig better, he glimpsed more than one reason for this attitude. Mrs. Haig who brought him hot water in the morning revealed herself as another type altogether. A powerfully built blonde Englishwoman, fair of complexion and blue of eye, she radiated benevolent interest in Neil's well-being. And as there was ■> comely freshness about her, and Neil was subconsciously seeking for some sort of antidote to Dinana, and because sho suggested the open air and the sunshine rather than the dirty grey dinginess of the Circus houses, he responded to this interest, and told her essential facts about himself and his long journey southwards, omitting only that series of episodes that had left a dull but strangely persistent pain at his heart. He learnt that she had been five years married and had had no child; the last item of information was given in a subdued tone which suggested that sho was conscious of an unmerited deprivation. Her husband was a boiler-maker by trade—worked for a big firm in Farringdon Street. Ho was ji good husband, she volunteered, thougli a bit moody at times—yes, a good straight man who ought to have got on better than he had. By tho time he had finlsnea a late breakfast they were excellent friends. He was due to report himself to Messrs. Smith and Oliphant, solicitors, at twelve o'clock, in Chancery Lane, and as Mrs. Haig assured his that "a man with his length of limb" could easily walk the distance under an hour, he decided to do this. He was anxious to see a littlo of London as soon as possible. The walk, however, along the Pentonville Road is not specially inspiring, and Neil's first impressions of the Metropolis accordingly did not excite him. Indeed, he arrived at the office, overheated, footsore from the pavements to which he was unaccustomed, and ready to regard with dismay the small rooms and Smith and Oliphant's "suite." Mr. Oliphant received him graciously in an apartment that conveyed a strong and yet subtle impression of a lawyer overwhelmed with work. On the large, flat mahogany writing desk there were papers, papers everywhere—except in the space occupied by a blotting-pad, the surface of which Mr. Oliphant or somebody else had dotted with pencilled memoranda, presumably because there had been no other paper handy at the time, and no time to get any. From this ocean of papers rose a telephone as though it were a lighthouse. Law and order were not forgotten in the studied neglige of the room. There was at least one ponderous tome on the desk and a book case full of them. Besides these emblemH of legal erudition, there was proof that Mr. Oliphant at least tried to be as methodical and tidy as the accruing daily rush of business allowed him. Several packets of papers were tied up with red or pink tape. Mr. Oliphant represented the firm in actual practice. It was many years since the senior partner, Mr. Smith, had been to Chancery Lane; he was bedridden, and perforce content to leave affairs entirely in Mr. Oliphant's capable hands. Mr. Oliphant, though under forty, was industrious and "steady." He might like to appear "overwhelmed*' by business, but he took very good care that he never was. Neil listened to the programme tha* Mr. Oliphant had drawn up for him, and found it more or less what his own father had forecasted. He would attend the office by day, when he would have a? his mentors two young clerks who had already qualified, and ho would pursm his legal studies by night. By strict attention to the practical and theoretical side of the law, and in view of what he had already learnt, Neil might hope to qualify in a couple of years. After that.

who knew T Neil, concluded Mr. Oliphant, was at least more fortunate than some young men whom circumstances might and probably would compt. to remain solicitor's clerks all their lives. He had the means of acquiring a partnership— quite soon. Neil thought he understood the reference. Mr. Oliphant now took care that he should. "Doubtless you know," he said, "that a sum of money was left in trust for you and certain others by your mother's father, recently deceased. Your father was the original trustee, but owing to one member of the family objecting that the legatee in whom he* was interested had not been fairly dealt with under the will and—er—making himself decidedly offensive to your father, I gather—owing to this it was thought advisable, to avoid further unpleasantness, to transfer the trusteeship to myself. So the position is, Grierson, that I am holding this money for you and the others until you are twentyone. Your share is quite considerable. With the accumulated interest it should amount to at least three thousand pounds. That's quite a useful bit to start life with, isn't it J" Neil assented politely. "Enough to buy yourself a small business, or at least to share in one," went on the lawyer. "And that's what I would do with "it, if I were you, Grierson. Do you think you'll liko the Law ?" "I think I shall, 6ir," said Neill, who had never seriously considered any alternative. This profession was the first to offer him a way out of spending his life in Shetland, and that was all he had cared about at that time. "Well—urn. It has its drawbacks of course. Few of us make fortunes. But it provides a competence to an able, hard-working man, and the work is interesting. Er—that money of yours. It's early yet to talk about what you're going to do with it—you'll see how you get on here. But there's no harm" in having an objective-*something to keep in front of )-ou and keep turning ovei in your mind—and it seems to me that for a young man like yourself, you couldn't do better than put the money into a legal partnership. You might even become a partner in this firm," he adde with an assumed jocularity. As Neil's face betrayed neither pleasure nor pain at this dazzling prospect, Mr. Oliphant switched off to another topic, that of Neil's immediate duties with Smith and Oliphant. They appeared to Neil to be easy, but a little tame. Then he was handed over to the two clerks, Henderson and Perkins, who in the most gentlemanly manner proceeded to prove to him how little ho knew about the Law. Mr. Oliphant's suggestion about the partnership had not been made entirely at random. The fact of the matter was that the duration of Mr. Smith's life was bound to be short, and when Mr. Smith died, it would mean that a large proportioa of tho capital he had put into the firm would be withdrawn. This would involve bringing in another partner, and it had occurred to him that the ideal partner from his point of view would be a youth whom he himself had trained and taught to respect his authority.

He might iiave eaid more to Neil if he had felt as sure about the young Shetlander as he was that be would shortly inherit £3000. But after this first inspection he could not feel certain that the new material would prove sufficiently malleable for the purpose. He was a fairly shrewd judge of human nature, and the indifference he had noted in Neil's manner seemed to indicate a lack of ambition so far at least as advancement in the Law was concerned. An ambitious boy woul< have been eager, enthusiastic But he might bo wrong; hit judicial mind told him that he might bo wrong. Ho would wait and see. By the end of the week he had decided that Neil, though punctual and docile, was listless —without "punch" so to speak. Still, he would wait and see. Saturday mid-day indeed found Neil leaving the office in a frame of mind best described as humphish. He was glad to be rid of the two gentlemanly clerks; but he had the sensation of having been with Smith and Oliphant not for a few days but for a year, the feeling of having been caught up in a machine that had already deprived him of will-power and threatened to' rob him of the power to think. Ho had nothing to do and nowhere to go. After a frugal lunch and an afternoon spent in wandering about Holborn and wishing the shops were open, he decided to seek Northumberland Circus. There at least would bo Mrs. Haig waiting to "mother" him with tea and bread and butter and jam. Mrs. Haig did not disappoint him. Not only was she ready with the tea, not only did she prepare him an extra tempting supper, but when in his solitary attic be attempted to settle down to an evening with book, she came upstairs to ask him if he wanted anything more—and stood at his door asking it for at least ten minutes. At the end of that time Neil asked her if she wouldn't come in and sit down. She smiled at him but shook her head, saying that sho was to busy. Her husband had gone out to a "sociable." She couldn't go because there was so much mending to do. All of sudden, still standing at the door, sho began to talk about her husband. Ho was a .good husband but given to thinking he was seriously ill, though all that ho suffered from was indigestion— the doctor told her so, and it might be right. But the .indigestion made him mooay, and when he was like that he said unkind things, unjust things— things she ought not to speak about to a young gentleman, and wouldn't. They had had words just before he went out — and she was feeling rather bad about it. Some wives wouldn't care—but she was just that sensitive. At this point she raised her hands to cover her face; her loose sleeves fell away, revealing a pair of white and rather beautifully moulded arms. Neil shifted uneasily in his cbair. He ielt rather frightened, scared of what was coming next. Then the hands dropped. Mrs. Haig's eyes were dim. but she waa smiling. "I'm not speaking against my husband, Mr. Gierson," she eaid very earnestly. "I'm as loyal to him as can be—but it eases me to talk—to get it out—to somebody who'll listen—specially on a

Saturday when Fre been on my legs morning, noon and night, and am too tired to sit down." And that, Neil sensed, was the aimple truth concerning Mrs. Haig's emotional crisis. But it tu nevertheless embarrassing, and when she had departed he formed certain resolutions. By some means he must avoid spending 'Saturday evenings at Northumberland Circus. He would go out to-morrow (Sunday) somewhere. Otherwise, Mrs. Haig might have another crisis—probably would if the "sociable" upset Mr. Haig's liver and temper. Or it might be Mr. Haig's day for emotional confidence—that would be worse. It was then that he thought of the Stewarts. Sunday morning was rainy, but the sun was drying the pavements when he walked down Porchester Terrace, looking for No. 17. He had judged tbst four o'clock would be the best time to arrive. They would be having tea about five, and he did not doubt that he would )>e asked to stay that meal and the next. These folk were Slietlanders, and whatever else a Shetlandcr may leave behind him, he takes with him the law of his island hospitality. He felt a little trepidation as he rang the bell. This house with its solemn Victorian portico, its high half-curtained windows, was a trifle forbidding. A trim parlourmaid opened the door, and he stepped into a ball that seemed abnormally dark and gloomy after the sunlight. He gave his name and asked if Mr. Stewart was at home. The girl thought he was. Mrs. Stewart at any rate was upstairs, resting; and the young ladies, she thought, had gone for a walk. Neil was taken up a fairly wide stairway, and ushered into a drawingroom. He bad a glimpse of a quietly furnished room, with high French windows leading on to a balcony, a "baby-grand** piano in the corner, potted ferns blocking the empty grate—and over the back of an armchair, a girl's head silhouetted against the light. "Mr. Grierson," the maid announced, and then with a half-apologetic, "Didn't know yeu were here, Miss," pulled the door »o and went upstairs in search of Mrs. Stewart. The girl had risen swiftly and was facing him. It was Diana! (To be continued Saturday next.)