Leisure To Repent

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 142, 18 June 1938, Page 11 (Supplement)

Leisure To Repent

ByUrsula Parrott

Serial Story

SYNOPSIS 1

leith Sheldie knew he was letting Dense Rendale down badly when he did pot offer to merry her upon learning her father had gone bankrupt. Hovever, there was nothing he could do about it. for wasn't he dependent on His wealthy father? And for some unkiown reason. Sheldie, sen., did not warn his son to marry. To do so, ment being disinherited. Keith frankly explains the situation to pants#. Though disappointed end broken-hearted, tht bravely faced him and Mid: '' L «t's never sea each other agair. Good-bye!" At home, Dsnise's £.ste\ Felicia tries to console the former in her matter-of-fact fashion by stying, "This time next year you'll have forgotten him or near enough Didnt you know I had a broken heart once myself" Then Felicia confides how the loved the late Duane Fenton and, «ven on the day of her marriage to Euttace Gardiner Oayne, she hoped Duane would hear her heart calling and come to her. Ae an antidote for Denise's heart-break, Felicia recommends an early marriage to the wealthy young westerner, Gilbert Windon, who has been hovering •round Denise for months. CHAPTER IV, TOWNES came into the room, quietly as usual, said, "Mr. Windon to see Miss Rendale," and departed. Felicia said very quickly: "I may as well tell you the rest. Gilbert ennfided in me weeka and weeks a«o. 'Westerners! They're not like us, you know; they are sort of simple and direct. New York, in tho set we go about i i, at least, is so oblique. Well, there ia more. Father's not going bankrupt to-morrow certainly. I got Gilbert to put up some money this afternoon. Father will know about it by now, I expect." She stood up, with her quick grace. "So I've put you into exactly the position of the girl in the cinema who sacrifices herself to keep the sheriff away from the old homestead. Only, Denise, you are my little sister whom I have adored, and I've watched what was happening rather helplessly. I was able to predict all ost to the "day (father's crisis hurried it, of course) when you would just have to know what Keith wanted of you, and would find that he wanted nothing important. Really, you had better go down to see Gilbert." She went out of the room suddenly, before Denise answered her. With rage and indignation struggling in her (and a kind of wry amusement, too, for the position was so precisely, that of the girl in the cinema), Denise sat quiet a long minute. What she would.' do, she did not know, except that would not pretend to Gilbert Windon that she loved him and further preposterous notions! There was a small sound at the doOr, and she turned. Her mother came into the room, a small slight person rather like a Dresden figurine in pale colours. Automatically, Denise smiled at her. Both Sara Rendale's tall daughters adored her, who was not either a modern mother nor an old-fashioned one, hut had a kind of timeless quality of gentleness and serenity. One of those women who have always been sheltered j and cherished, so that th®y are qhablfed to feel that the world is an orderly place. Yet, Sara was a resolute small person. She had taken the imminence of her husband's bankruptcy with extreme fortitude. So Denise 1 was! the more surprised now to see that she had been weeping. She said, in her qniet voice: "My dear child, the most lovely thing has happened. That nice young man Gilbert Windon has lent your father all the money that's necessary immediately. Your father just telephoned me. Mr. Windon told him that it was of no importance, and he was glad to do it! He's downstairs now —your father told him to come and reassure me—we must ask him to stay to dinner." She spoke all in a breath. For a horrible instant Denise wondered whether her mother too thought of Gilbert Windon as a permanent solution for all their troubles. Then looking at that innocent pleased face, she was ashamed of herself for the suspicion. Her mother said: "Denise, I wept with relief. Your father would have minded so, though I told him over and over that bankruptcy was not a disgrace!" Denise had a sudden moment of illumination. Both her father and mother must have been • desperatiely frightened, on the verge of having all tie things to which they were accus-

tomed taken away. Yet neither had shown it, but pursued tlieir ways onlv a little more quietlv. than usual. They had dignity! For the first time in her life she wondered how much they had had to live through before tliev could achieve that quality nothing could impinge upon. Undignified she had been, to show her hurt heart to Keith Sheldie, undignified Felicia was, to want her to snatch at a young man with a great fortune. Was it the difference between generations? That in her parentstime the pace of things was slower, so that they were able to consider implications of conduct, and not behave unthinkingly. The sense of immediacy was so strong with herself, with Felicia, with almost every young person she knew. There was a kind of code: "Get what you want now, or never. There's no reward for doing without." Well, she was not to have what she wanted; and not having what Bhe wanted, what else was there? l'roin that extreme confusion of thought she emerged to notice that her mother was watching her oddly. Sara Rendale said, almost timidly: 'My dear, are you unhappy about anything 1" She shook her head. "Only I went for a long walk this afternoon, and I'm tired, mother." She determined that she would not add to her mother's troubles. She was conscious that her mother was still hesitating, wanting to help her, no doubt, but there was no help for an ache in the heart, except time, supposedly. Denise said, "I'll dress before I go down to see Mr. Windon, and thank him," and fled. • • • • In the drawing room downstairs Gilbert Windon had been waiting alone a rather long time, for which he was grateful, since it we him time to consider precisely what he meant to say. This tall man whom Felicia considered such,an admirable solution for her sistec's life, was, If one stopped to look at hibjf carefully, not unlike Keith Slieldic in 'appearance, in a much' stronger and considerably less handsome version. That if to say, he was brown-liaired and tanskinned and had pleasant features. J But Keith w s in his middle twenties, f Gilbert was S5, and had worked hard most of his acfenlt life. Also, he had | about him a look that explained Felicia's , '"Westerners!" Not that the hat which Townes had taken was a "five-gallon" hat, or that his suit was any less well tailored than one of Keith's; but there was a quality in his appearance as of one whose exercise had not been obtained playing games, but working outdoors. That was so. His grandfather had made a large fortune in mining and timber in western Canada. His father greatly increased and consolidated that fortune. He himself would continue to increase it, in the much more modest fashion of his period. But his interests were sufficiently stable to permit him, as they never permitted his father or grandfather, to take time off occasionally. He had been east a great many times before; at thirty-five he decided he would like to spend a good part of his life there. That happened at the precise moment when at the house of his eastern representative he firet talked to Denise Rendale, and she looked at him kindly, if very remotely.' Her married sister Felicia Dayne was much easier to talk to, he discovered. He wouldn't like his wife to be quite as amiable! For that thought he occasionally reproached himself as provincial. Being provincial had worried him occasionally in his life, especially in London, where they called it "Colonial," with an odd inflection. He had regretted that his father's plan to send bim to Oxford had never been carried out.

The war had prevented. He had served, absurdly young, with the Canadians; and had come back to find his father busy as ever, but grown very old, almost feeble. He refused to consider leaving him again. So his only education was at the hands of the English tutor who had accompanied his father and himself about on their journeys through British Columbia and Alberta, east to Saskatchewan, north to the Yukon. The tutor taught him the classics well, taught him French with a bad British accent, and English literature superbly. Curious man, that earnest young tutor, with his determination plain never to show surprise at the width of the open spaces. He left them shortly after the war started and died in his first month at the front. Gilbert Windon stared into a dim Venetian mirror in Michael Rendale's drawing room with an air of surprise. Why should his thoughts suddenlv be full of his dead tutor, and his boyhood when the North-west had seemed the most glamorous place on earth, and he thought himself a kind of crown prince to an important dynasty! He knew why: Because, being perfectly confident in himself, he feared nothing of the judgment of all the people he knew, except the judgment of a slender blue-eyed girl who might think him alien to her! He had never regretted the sudden motoient when he had told Felicia. He simply had to tell someone, while he watched Denise turn to that worthless young Keith Sheldie with her eyes shining, and turn to him always "with her eyes far off. And Felicia had said Denise would never marry Keith, that >t was just "boy-and-girl nonsense. Denise will out-grow him in a season." It was in the summer in the country that Felicia had said that. He was not sure about it. The nuances of life bv Long Island Sound were so far removed from the simplicities by Queen Charlotte's Sound. Still, he had waited, travelling west on a hurried trip and worrying all the way leat Denise's engagement to Keith be announced while he was gone, and travelling east again wishing she would seem glad to see him! Which she had not, but had seemed just polite as usual. He was glad Felicia had asked him to help in her father's affairs. He liked Michael Rendale, who seemed to him something like his ov.n father, but without his lire. Besides, though he didn't want Denise to feel she must be grateful, it seemed somehow to bring th- 11 closer—that he'd been able to help.

And now he was determined to speak to her at lest, because it seemed to him that she and all her family needed to be taken care of—except Felicia, who, he appreciated, was the 6ort that couid always take care of herself. That determination had been with niin all day and had not been affected at all, because it was so strong anyway, by the fact that Felicia, swathed in silver foxes, put her head in the drawing room door and said: "I have news for you, my dear." He thought: "I'll get Denise furs even lovelier; 111 choose the pelts myself." Felicia said: "Denise has dismissed Keith." "You shouldn't tell me, you know." "I know; trut don't look so moral and western about it. I happen to want you for a brother-in-law." He said, rather heavily: "I've gathered that; but it's not clear to me why." A dimple showed by Felicia's scarlct mouth. "Because you have money, my sweet; and also because you are a lamb."

He was really angry, but that pretty mocking woman did have the ability to make him sjieak his mind. He spoke ;t. "Your sister would not think of marrying me because I happen to have money." "Don't worry, darling. She certainly won't marry you at alt if you look at her with that thunderous face. It's nice you have money. We all need it, except me. I get mine, in the way of fancy gifts for sweet smiles, from my husband's relatives. Like this ca|)e, which was from my graiuLLither-in-law. 1 called on him in a spring suit and told him I had nothing suitable for his grand-daughter-in-law to wear, to keep me warm. Also I shivered a little. He worries about colds. "Come to think of it, when you're married to Denise you can give me beautiful presents, too, of course. You'll be iu the family." "Felicia, why do you mock at everything';" She said in a hollow voice: "All, I have a tragedy. 1 danced with the Prince of Wales once, and was never able ;o forget him!" She blew him a'kiss and went on down the hallway. Mrs. Rendale came in a moment later and rather embarrassed him by her gentle thanks. When he had accepted her invitation to dinner, she excused herself, saying: "Denise will be down in a moment or two to entertain you while I dress. She went for a long walk and came home rather tired. I expect she's resting a bit before dinner." His heart began to thump. On a long walk, no doubt, with that young man of whom she was loud. And something had happened between them I hat Felicia knew. That something might increase his chance. He had met tlu- Iveith Sheldies of the world, east and west, in Kurope and America. Well-dressed, well-mannered, inconsequent in 1. Hut net inconsequential if a woman one loved, loved one of them. . . . He heard footsteps in the corridor. Denise came in. in a dark blue frock very simple and not very low-cut —the sort of frock she might wear dining alone with her husband, when they weren't "dressing."' She said, very stiffly: "We're all extremely grateful to you." .Mr. Windon." And once or twice, caoiially, she had called him "Gilbert" before! A kind of indignation caught at him, that she should think he expected crawling gratitude. and so should think she must put him in his place. He had. not knowing it, the thunderous look which Felicia had

protested on his face, and a look Felicia could not of course have identified; but anyone who knew his grandfather, when his grandfather was being determined, could have. He spoke very fast: "I didn't wait to see you to have you 6ay thank you for a matter that's just business between your father and myself." She looked for a minute just like Felicia, being mocking! "I can t think of any other reason that you might want to see me specially." 'Because I wanted to ask you to marry me. Ive wanted to marry you ever since the first evening I met you!" She stared at him. How white elie was! Townes came to the door and said: "Mr. Sheldie to speak to you on the telephone, Miss Rendale." She went out of the room without looking at him again. He was furious at himself. It was not so he had meant to propose to her. If she were stiff and embarrassed, it was natural. The situation must be difficult, to have to thank a man who, she probably knew, was in love with her. for lending her father money! Well, when she came back, he'd sav he war sorry. He thought, with a' kind of terror: "Ske may not come back at all." But in a minute or two she came back. All her life afterward, she was to remember it as the hour she learned that the whole course of life can be determined by a very small thing. If Keith had telephoned next morning, or even later that same night when Gilbert had •rone home, though he had said the same things, she might have answered differently. He said: "Hello, darling. You were pretty silly this afternoon, weren't you?" She said: "Perhaps." "I'm sure you were. We've had a great deal of fun and will have a great deal more. You know I adore you. I would have wanted things to be different. . . . But you're pretty young. I felt just slightly responsible." In that minute she remembered hi? kisses, and hers answering his. She was frightened by the vividness of that j remembrance. He was saying: "Answer me, Denise. I'm telling you I worship you. LetV make up, and fly to Pinehurst for a week-end." But she repeated, almost in spite of herself, something he'd said before. "You wouldn't like to be made feel responsible." "You are a little Puritan, but I don't mind. I don't mind much at the moment. I went to drown my sorrows when you left, but when they were only about half drowned, I decided I'd bet/ter (till up." "Thank you." "Well, then, let's go dancing about 10." Sh« had always loved his voice. It I »'iw the most eager voice she had ever heard. It was eager now, and confident as usual. Slip said: "I wanted to marry you." R'lt she wiw only speaking to herself 1 aloud. "Denise, stop it, dearest. We don't I have to get married and cause a great row with father, but let's go on." She heard herself say: "I'm goinsr to marry Gilbert Windon," and was rather surprised to discover she had put down the receiver.

She went hack to Gi'.hert, and, though >he <1 id not think of it, she was completely dignified. ''Gilbert. I happen to have been, to he really, in love with ?-.uiicone who is not in love with mo. That is the only answer 1 can give you." But he moved toward hor, only eager in that moment, when she looked so unhappy, to comfort hor. An inspiration came to him. '"Denise, marry me for just a year, to L'ive me the chanej to make you happy. It I don't, I promise to lot you go <it the end of a year. We'll travel; we'll get. to know daoh other better. Denise, please *av you'll try it." Tn a tired little girl's voice, she said: "All right, Gilbert." Hut he wag not critical of the tone now. He was too happy. So she was to be his, this •lender lovely cliild with a look of stra of honesty, about her. He put his arms round her. He kissed hei more violently thot he had meant. Hut Le couldn't help it! When she struggled a little in his urine, he let her go immediately. It appeared she was not to l>e his, precisely. She said: "You mean a formal marriage. don't you, Gilbert?'' She'd never heard him laugh before. Why, he had a very pleasant laugh! He looked down at her (lushed cheek*. "[ don't mean that, Denise; but if that's the way you want it. all right." She felt impossibly young. She heard her father's voice at the front door, heard her mother, on her way downstairs. They came into the drowing room. Gillwrt said immediately: "Mr. Rendale. Doni«e has said she'll marry me. I hope you think—think it's all right." He was as hesitant as a boy, Denise thought, and she had always (in the \cry little thought she'd ever given him) considered him so eompletelv adult. How very pleased her ' father and mother were! How gently her mother kissed her! And her 'father said solemnly: "I can only hope you will be as happy. Denise. as your mother and i have always been."* ("They wouldn't be pleased if thev knew it was onlv for a vear. Thc'v would he incredibly shocked!") Sara Rendale delightedly: "We "inst telephone Felicia, straightway." Deniso said she would telephone, because she wanted to escape sight of their delighted trusting faces. (To be continued next week.)