Squire Goodall

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 2, 3 January 1931, Page 11 (Supplement)

Squire Goodall

Bjr W. RILEY.

CHAPTER XXIV, Lina's Confession. "I've ito understand then," said Bill, "that you've definitely made up your mind that you won't go out yourself? Mortimer says they'll all be disappointed at that end if they don't see you again, and. it's a bit rough on me to go out for the first time when things are in such, a mess. Wool's rotten." "Wool will right itself," replied his father. "It's been rotten before and it'll be rotten again. If things are in a mess it's up to you to straighten 'em out. I've lost interest in wool; and if I hadn't I'm wanted here where things are in a bigger mess than anything you'll have to tackle." "I'd have bet any money," said Bill; "that you'd tire of this life in six months. I can't reckon you up, ana no other wool-chap can. Look at Charlie White? He goes down to thac place of his for a week or two and plays at being a country gentleman—hunts a bit, and shoots and fishes a bit —bue he's rejtless till he gets back to the wool warehouse. He hasn't settled down into a moudiwarp." (*mole.) "This life suits me as I told you a few •weeks back;" his father answered curtly, "and once this business of Lina's is ended satisfactorily I ask for nothing better than to spend the rest of my days among my own people." They were standing on the steps of the terrace and his eyes swept the halfcircle of wood and park-land with a glance that was almost affectionate. Bill observed the look and marvelled. "The old boy means it; he really does love it," he told himself, and gave the riddle up. A "mouliwarp" existence had no attraction for him; and whether Lina or Millie was to have the estate she was welcome so far as he was concerned, to the whole bag o' tricks when the "old boy" went west. The only pity was that his father hadn't agreed to let Lina marry the fellow she wanted, and buy peace and quietness with his consent. Hang it all, it was the girl's own funeral; but then father and daughter had always been as obstinate as mules, and to step between them only meant kicks from both sides!

His car was at the foot of the steps, and he prepared to enter it. "Very well, then," lie said; "I'll make my arrangements and set off in a week or two. Perhaps I'll take Ethel with me, or she'll never have a minute's rest whilst I'm away. I'll run over again before I go, and see Lina. It's no use waiting any longer." Even as he spoke the noise of an approaching car was heard, and in a moment or two £he station taxi drew up and Bin went forward to help his sister to alight. "Sorry I can't stop," he' said. "I've waited till the last minute." The look on her face banished his own welcoming smile. "You're no advertisement for Charlie White's place," he went on. "Good heavens, lass; you're as white as a sheet 1 What ails you?" "I'm, tired," she said; "leave me alona." Sheprissed . them both with seeming reluctance, and went up the steps in front of her father, who bade Bill an abrupt good-bye. As he drove down the drive Bill shook his head — 'There's trouble yonder," he said. "I'm glad I'm not staying the night. Thatdass is going to be the death of the old man. She wants spanking!" As" they were about to enter the hall Lina .paused and addressed her father. "I want to see you at once, in. private," she said in a low voice. "You had better wait until after dinner," he replied. "Have a cup of tea in your bedroom and rest awhile. You.look worn out." "I must see you at once," she said in a voice so unlike her own that her father was startled. There was ths note of hysteria in it, and her eyes heightened the impression that she was on the verge of an attack. "I want no tea." "Tea shall be brought into the he said quietly. "Go upstairs and take off your things and come to me wh3n you are ready."

"I'll come to you now, as I am " she answered. "When you have heard what I have to tell, you may not wish me to remove my things.' "Do as I bid you," he ordered, "and don't look so wild, or Newlands will make a story of it. Calm yourself before you come down andj don't lose your head." His firm tone quietened her, and she passed the butler with a smile. "Have tea sent into the office, Newlands," said Squire, Goodall, "and see that I am not disturbed by anyone." "Tea for one, sir?" the butler inquired. "For one, yes; I've had mine," said his master. "They can. bring it as soon as it is ready." He entered the room and stirred the fire which was already blazing cheerily. Some papers that Bill had brought and that they had examined together were on the desk and he folded them neatly,' secured them with an elastic band, and placed them in a drawer. He had never been able to tolerate untidiness and the 6ight of Bill's cigar ash on the tiled hearth annoyed him. He would have removed it if there had been a brush, but the brush was missing. This was another annoyance; but realising that he was allowing his nerves to get on edge he controlled himself and sat down after twisting the other easy chair round so that its occupant would face him. The tea-tray was brought in, but five more minutes elapsd before Lina came, and Squire Goodall occupied the interval in preparing himself for what he knew was going to be a painful interview. He spent no time in speculating on the cause of his daughter's distraught appearance, seeing that the explanation was about to be given. That something serious had happened or was about to happen could not be doubted, but there was nothing to be gained by questioning possibilities. The one essential thing was that he should have himself well in hand; that no statement, no confession, however provocative or calamitous, should cause him to lose self mastery and a balanced judgment. His heart was heavy, but he had slept fairly well after his talk with the Dalroys, and though the sense of impending misfortune had never left him he no longer felt orushed by it. And now, when a fateful intei'view was about to take place, he was still not afraid of Lina, but for her. She entered quietly, closed and bolted tin; door and was,about to seat herself when her father stopped her.

"Push the bolt back, Lina. We shall not be interrupted. Newlands has my instructions." She obeyed without protest, and turned to the chair again, ignoring the tray. "Pour yourself a cup of tea," said her father with quiet peremptoriness. "Until you'v® drunk it I won't listen. When did yrm have your last meal?" "I don't know," she replied; " —this morning, I think. I believe I had a sandwich somewhere on the way, but I'm not sure. I can't drink." She sat down, and her father rose and went over to a cupboard where there was a decanter of brandy. Carefully measuring some of the spirit into the cup and then pouring in the tea he handed it to his daughter. "Drink it" he said. "It will steady you, and you badly need steadying." She took the cup from him and gulped down the contents, after which she set her feet on the curb and gazed hard into the fire.

Her father watched her. Was she broken or defiant? It was hard to determine, but it was plain to see that she was in distress. Her eyes had a strange, crazod look—the kind of look that tears might wash away, if tears were allowed. Squire Goodall judged that they had not ben allowed, and he was right. Sitting well back in his chair, his hands gripping the extremities of its arms, and his outstretched legs crossed upon the rug, the father's face softened into pity. If Lina had raised her eyes she would have seen the look, and she might have noted how much greyer and more careworn the face had become in her absence; but for a while she kept them down. With an effort she braced herself and turned in her chair, and now at length her eyes sought his and fixed themselves there. In a very low voice which became firmer as she proceeded she said: "I've something to tell you that will make you very angry. I'm afraid to tell you but I must, and I ask you to make it easier for me by listening as patiently as you can, and not interruptIf you don't I can't explain. 1 m ilf with anxiety and want of sleep, and my head whirls. I fancy I haven t slept since I received Millie's letter; if I have it hasn't been worth calling sleep. 1 don't ask you to pity me, but just to bear with me for a while and try to understand." . . , . , Her father made no sign of any kind but held her with his stern gaze, and she continued: , T "When I left home two months ago i didn't go at once to Egerton Manor. I went to Leamington, and lived m an hotel, there for a wek with Stephen as M ShT f paused, as if half expecting that her father would speak but still he made no sign, except that his fingers tightened on the plush of his chair and his lips narrowed; but God alone knew how his heart lost its beat. „ T "You are horrified, of course, Lina went on, "but please understand that Stephen was not to blame. The suggestion came from me. I was desperate. I thought you were very unjust and unkind, and I told you, you will remember that I would stick at nothing m Sir to gain my end, consent to our marriage, and this seemea she 7 paused,'tryingj to read her father's expression and utterly failing. Tn reality his senses were benumbed, Sa'S wL like a man in a dream** ;q Tiartlv conscious that lie will wake before loft o, and find that the hideous thing that frightened him was a mockery of the imagination. Surely no daughter of bis and of that much better soul, his wife\oild lave dene anything 80 rash and "wicked. It was unbelievable, yet SThaTto be believed. The Inght that lurked behind the defiance n. Lina a eyea loft "him in no doubt that sne the truth. He could only stare dt Steadily in the same dull tone the girl W m°wls a bold step to take.. You see I thought when you knew what bad hannened you would be forced to sent, but latterly I've not been so su You can be very hard and afte all you will make me lie on theJjed 1 have made. That thought me, because I have reason to J ear - d yen no more than l deserve , ViVhndv T'vr. Tint askinc you to pity me. Nobody Tmnot v* clean . minde d will pi y perhaps sinners would. into my myse lf you would dis--111 hut I won't dwell on these ? Wn ; P hurt and angry you fancies. u you'll cloak what I may i® . hv consenting now to my Sage wMfr Stephen. I've come home t %=SSlle« ? nn.nH» bquirevju siicrMlV forward. He chair and leaned sii y little m s very to voice he kept S'SfcoSl and it was the thought of his wife "that restrained him. «Ynn have struck me a heavy blow he Sd "a cowardly blow from behind, he saia, * J got in the wood. ■L in "It does pain me to do believe I would ?o a again. I'm not repentant and I SS Sfm^ave%« You'll not punish me for bem 0 > 1 "Let'me be assured that you are sin„oVo» Tifi renlied. You wish me to draw the natural inference say you lived with this man ass hiss Wit It was not a game concocted for the purpose of deceiving me. me—to 1 4-was designed designed by me to force your hand; but it was no game, she answered. "It was dead earnest. Her father's brow darkened. "And you will marry this man who was willing to be seduced, and who gle - fully fell in with your plot and we corned the opportunity you offered him to satisfy his lust? You are willing tie yourself for life to a shameless libeitine who in cold blood could allow the «irl he pretends to love to go to her ruin? He i? much older tlian you and an experienced man of the world*. yet

take it lie never sought to dissuade you, never refused to be a party to your madness? You will marry this gentleman, this soulless devil, this selfish, unscrupulous hell-hound?" He had allowed his indignation to get the better of him, and though his voice was scarcely raised it was very intense. The speech hardened the girl; light flamed in her eyes, and with some spirit she replied: "You wrong Stephen. You have always wronged him. He has a lot of faults, I know—the faults of hosts of men of his class. He's too fond of wine and women and horses and cards—l know he is. But there are heaps of fellows as bad or worse than he who are welcomed in society—fellows who haven't half his good qualities—" "You have a large knowledge of men and the welcome they receive in society," her father interrupted bitingly. "I won't dispute your authority. But it will relieve me to learn what this man's good qualities consist of." Lina saw that the grey face was growing more hostile. The heavy bushes overhung the eyes so far that' the cavities were almost hidden, and the lips were thin and hard. It was the face she had pictured and dreaded. The flame died down in her eyes and she said wearily. "It would be useless, father; you wouldn't'believe me. Need we dwell on this? I must marry him. Even if he were the soulless devil you think him 1 should still have to marry him. I needn't speak more plainly, need I ? With your consent or without it Ave must be married without delay." For a moment or two he was silent. In his heart there was a great pity for the girl—a pity that hot anger made him resent. He knew he would not abandon her; he could never do that. He even knew that some part of him, some part that roused an indignant protest, was still proud of her —proud of her splendid daring, of the desperate gamble on. which she had staked her all. The conflicting emotions tormented him, and imparted increased bitterness to his voice as he said—

"You told me you would beat me, and you've done it by playing the game low down; by prostituting your body and selling your soul —" Instantly she flashed, "I have neither prostituted my body nor sold my soul," she said proudly. "I am Stephen's affianced bride. In God's sight I am his wife. What I have done has been unconventional, but I deny that it has been wicked." The shamelessness of the denial shocked him, but he was feeling exhausted and was anxious to end the discussion— * ' ■"I am getting old," he said, "and my standards are old-fashioned. I won't argue the point with,you, and I won't stress the fact that I am crushed ana humiliated. I never dreamed that you could beat me, but I am beaten. You shall marry this man, though I think I would rather see you dead than a profligate's wife. You shall marry him, for after all you have proved to me that you will make him a worthy mate—" Her eyes glittered, but she did not speak. "What price I shall have to pay for the purchase of this husband," he continued with quiet irony, "I cannot guess. You have put me as well as yourself in his power, and he knows it, and will be able to dictate terms. To cover your 'shame, and to save your sister from humiliation, I shall be prepared to go a long way. But one thing I will not do —" He paused to give his words greater effect. "Whatever tho consequences I will not let either you or him or your heirs after you have The Towers. I will humble myself before this rake as I have never done before an honest man; but that price I will not pay. I will never pay it." "Then I am beaten, too," she replied with downcast wyes.

She looked up and again faced him. "Leave it open, father," she pleaded, "until your anger has cooled down. Millie won't want the place—" "In no circumstances and never shall this place he yours or his," he replied positively and with some heat. "When we spoke on tlvifi subject last I said that if I conceded the one point I would concede the rest; but I don't hold myself bound by that promise. What you've obtained has been by duress, and that cancels the obligation." Lina read the look on his face and knew the decision was final. "So Jim Morton will get the estate," she said, and for the first time tears stood in her eyes. "Very well; I've lost. Stephen won't mind half as much as I do" "That remains to be seen," said her father. "I shall find out to-morrow. That's the first gong. W© must go and dress." "I want tao dinner," said Lina. "Neither do I," he remarked,' "but we are both going to be there all the same." As he dressed, a picture rose before his eyes, and he saw himself standing at a cottage door in Newton with an angry woman at his side— "I'm going through something you'll never have to go through," he heard the woman say. "It's as bad for poor folk to bear shame as it is for the rich," and his own reply came back to him. "That is. true; but we must not let shame destroy love and pity." He covered his face with his hands and groaned—"God help us both!" (To be continued Saturday next.)