The Marriage of Celia

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 56, 7 March 1934, Page 19

The Marriage of Celia

By MADGE BARLOW.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS,

Author or "Joan Falrlle's Cross-roads," a "The Black Bretrayal," O "Love's Tangle," etc. ™

CELIA COXOJI. a beautiful, unaffected Irish girl, and her mother are very' poor. It is the mother's ambition to gee her daughter married to a rich man, and she is delighted when Cclia becomes engaged to ROBERT LENNOX, a wealthy explorer. DICK AVERY, younger but poorer than Lennox, Is also in love with Oelia. SA NX A PERCIVAIj is bitterly jealous of Celia, but pretends to be lier friend. SIRS. CONOR finds on Lennox's writingtable a note breaking off his engagement. Jirs. Conor, amul with despair, waits up for Lennox. He does not come in, and she seeks him outside the hotel where they are staying. She has a sudden heart attack and dies in the road. Meanwhile Lennox is having a struggle with himself on account of his resolution to break his engagement. When Mrs. Conor's death is discovered, Sanna takes charge of Cclia. CHAPTER V. Colin McHaffie was some years Robert's junior—a lean, tough Scot, coloured like a redskin; a doctor by profession, but without practice, who, six years previously, had relegated himself to the dumping ground of the "might-have-beens." A grave error of judgment while under the influence of drink, a

mistake that cost a life, ruined his career; and McHaffie, in raging despair, was on the point of committing suicide when Lennox rushed to tho rescue, took him off to Africa, and shook sense into

Robert and he had been schoolmates at Harrow, and in McHaflie's student days staunchest of pals. While Mac walked the hospitals they lost sight of each other, but the howl of the Press set Lennox 011 his track, and it was due to his influence that tho blunder had not graver consequences.

He had kept McHaffie with him since that time, and Mac had been of infinite service to him on those exploring expeditions which brought renown to Robert. Tho latter saw to it that newspaper reports of his pioneer work on behalf of the Empire contained honourable mention of his companion's share in every exploit. On their return to civilisation Mac could safely have resumed practice, but would not do so in his former haunts. A cottage hospital hard by Red Craigs, built as a memorial to Lennox's sister, was destined to be the scene of his future labours. Its proximity to Red Craigs had induced Robert to buy the estate when it went into the market. Their six years in Africa had restored Mac's shattered nerves, cured him of his craving, bound him to his friend and saviour with links of steel. Neither would have cared to part from tho other.

They were scarcely settled in Red Craigs when Robert was ordered the tonic of seaside ozone, and McHaflie remained behind to supervise tradesmen attending to inside repairs of which the house stood much in need.

The tidings that Robert had met the sweetest girl in the world at the Beverley, and had fallen in love, did not excite his pal to jealousy. Mac's nature was too big for jealousies. He was honestly.glad, sincere in his written congratulations. Marriage, he said, would be the making of Robert, and any girl who could win that priceless heart was certain to be tho choicest pearl of her sex. No fear of Celia Conor severing the bond 'twixt him and Robert marred his genuine pleasure. A lodge in the grounds, once Che residence of the head gamekeeper, would suit him finely. To have a Mrs. Lennox, and perhaps a tribe of little Lennoxes, in this great barn of a house, would be no end jolly.

Towards women in general his attitude was cynically hostile, but Cclia occupicd a niche apart because beloved of Robert.

The subsequent letter tolling of the imminent breaking off of the engagement brought consternation. He pored over mysterious references to something Robert called "it," tho word underscored. "It has come again. It has me fairly by the throat this time. I thought I'd be rid of it at home, but. God help me, I'm not. I'm pulled up with a rude jolt, reminded that I'd no right to ask Celia to marry me. The least I can do is to set her free."

"Fudge!" ejaculated Mac, yet his expression was one of extreme anxiety. He read on, came to Robert's stated intention of returning to Africa alone if his chum would not accompany him, and his face froze as he read.

"No!" he vociferated, banging his fist on the arm of the chair in which he was sunning himself on the lawn. "No, by all that's sacred! You'll stay here, my man, where there's sanity and clean living, where the scope of such accursed things is limited,' and one has power to fight them. I won't let you go, won't let you give up Miss Conor."

A paper lie had been glancing through before the arrival of the post lay on his knees. "You folks with your labour disputes, and Red perils, and political alarums," lie grinned, looking down at the flaring headlines, "you'd sneer, and label Rob and me idiots, if wo told our yarn. You never were where we have been, or saw what we have seen, where Satan's throne is. You'd stretch your mouths to the width of your ears, and mock us for a pair of lunatics." He wiped his brow. "Lord!" he murmured, "you've got to live at hell's back door to credit such tales."

McHaffie glared fiercely into space. "I'd die happy if I had a certain wizened, dirty heathen neck between my fingers, cracking :t till it broke across like a rotton stick," he said. "You'll be sending missionaries yonder, you folks, along the track we've beaten for you. I'd send a few machine guns to cleanse their kennels."

And then, in a tense breath, "Poor old Rob!"

And in the next breath, "That poor girl!" The telegram coming on the heels of the letter summoned him in haste, giving no 'explanation, further upset him. He packed a bag and went south. On entering the Beverley he was relieved to be met by Robert, and to learn that he had been sent for only on account of Mrs. Conor's death, which had complicated a difficult position. He attended the inquest with Lennox and Glover, and had his first glimpse of Celia drowned in grief, clinging to Robert's arm while she answered the questions put to her. Sanna Percivale stood on the other side of her. The proceedings were brief, and a \eidict was returned of death from heart failure accelerated by the intense heat. Ihey left Mrs. Conor in her hotel bedroom until tliev took her to a local cemetery, and through all the decorous fuss and ceremonial Mrs. Conor smiled. It was strange that a woman who had passed out in anguish of Spirit should smile so, as if she were supremely pleased. "She knows I am going to marry you, and she is glad," wept Celia; and he held her face against his breast and stroked her hair, wondering whether Mrs. Conor really did know what he was still uncertain about. The fixed, triumphant smile awed him.

After the funeral he discussed the matter with Mac, when he had taken Celia to Miss Percivale and seen her folded in Sauna's embrace —innocence in the embrace of vengeful craft; the dove delivered to the serpent's untender mercies. ' I can't desert Celia now," s-:id Robert. "Mrs. Conor trusted me implicitly, is trusting mo at this moment, to love and protect her child. Mac, I will!" "I'm with you solidly in your decision," said Mac. "We must be married immediately, instead of in November."

"You couldn't do better than marry her at oncc."

"You see no reason why I shouldn't?" nervously.

"I see a host of sound reasons why you should." "Then," sighed Robert, contentedly, "my wife she shall be as soon as the legal formalities permit." At great price had Mrs. Conor purchased her heart's desire.

"I wasn't sure how you'd advise," Robert went on, liis face bright. "I hoped you'd say I was right, feared you wouldn't. I want my girl moro than I want anything on earth." "Well, satisfy your want, and good luck to both of you!"

"Thanks, old chap! My marriage won't make any difference in our comradeship, will it?" "None, except to gain me a friend in your wife." "Family tics shan't push you from your place, Mac." "Don't I know? And they'll be your salvation. Already Celia lias improved you. She has eased your mental strain by lifting you out of yourself. You've had another of those ghastly experiences, and it's been shorter lived than the previous ones, less shattering in the after effects. You're looking fine, Rob."

"Thinking of her, I've had no time to think of self."

"There's your cure. Go on thinking only of her."

"I was when I contemplated releasing her. My whole thought was of her."

"Oh, aye," drawled Mac, slowly filling his pipe. "Spare me a repetition of the tosh you wrote—poetic blethers about being a blight on her young radiance, frightening her, laying your burden on her shoulders. You be hanged! You needn't tell her. She needn't see you in the toils, should you have future manifestations. Red Craigs is big enough for temporary isolation, and I'll be at hand to help you and make excuses for you. Ague would be a capital excuse — caught in tho tropical marshes."

"That's what I told Major .Toieey," ruefully. "The major noticed my altered appearance; everybody in tho hotel did. He asked me the nature of my complaint, and I said, 'Ague.' Fortunately lie didn't seem familiar with its symptoms, and couldn't contradict."

"Talkative person, that Major Joicey," said Mac, sourly considering certain uninvited confidences bestowed on him.

"A regular nosey parker I try to avoid. It was the day prior to Mrs. Conor's sudden end, and I was on the verge of collapse, as you've frequently seen me. I kept my room, and wrote to you, went to mail my letter at dusk, and walked like fury. I came in late, and tho major was up the stairs with mo on his way to bed. I'd hardly make old bones, he said, if I were in the habit of going to smash in that fashion. You know 1 have the constitution of a horse, but it suited me to let him fancy the jungle had knocked me up a bit."

"Quite so," nodding approval. Robert lifted his pipe arid fingered it absent I v.

"One thing plagues me, Mac. Bishari told us I'd have to endure this until the death-in-life put a period to it—signed tho order of release, as it were. What is tho death-in-life? I keep conjecturing. Do you ever conjecture

"Just, blethers again!" "I thought—a fonn of paralysis, perhaps."

"Paralysis be jiggered!" McHaflie roared. ''It's nothing but tho frothings of a malignant imp of Old Nick preying on your fertile imagination. It's Bishari hypnotising you, willing you to be the victim of our own illusions. I don't profess to savvy how he does the trick. Out yonder there's devilry 110 man can fathom unless he's a member of the fraternity of arch-dealers in black magic. Illusion though it is, however, the thing's real to you and me. But, mark this, Robin, there are bounds evil can't pass. It simply can't. Something say* s to it, 'Thus far, and no farther! ' and it's stopped, cut off; its place knows it no more. Bear that, in mind, and never flinch. Your trouble will run to the precise length of its tether, then the rope will be chucked, the ' thus far' spoken, and you are freed. Light up, and smoke to Bisliari's certain confusion." "I'm veering round to the same opinion," said Robert, in happier vein. "Celia's love will vanquish devilish hate." "Docs Miss Conor love you?" Mac asked, abruptly. "She does indeed, darling girl!" "I wonder," mused Mac, "if the major is the champion liar of Christendom. I'd better imitate Robin, and avoid him." "Isn't it marvellous that she should love me ?" "Marvellous, you hulking image of ugliness," said Mac, a grin bursting through his solemnity. (To be continued daily.)