JILL OF THE FIELDS

Evening Star, Issue 21639, 7 February 1934, Page 3

JILL OF THE FIELDS

A ROMANCE

[By KEXN'AWAY JAMES.]

(Author of “ Hers to Command,” “ What Hargreaves lvr.?w." etc.l

CHAPTER XVI. A Countryman's Love. When Jill received Mark Hanson's letter she laid it unopened upon the oak refectory table and sal regarding it pensively. Its arrival had brought a ■sudden lined of memories which almost brought her to tears, for Mark was inextricably paid of the farm that, lor there to be any sort of quarrel between them, came near to heart-breaking. She felt she had no need to guess about the contents of the letter. Mark was going, she was sure. And if he were not. it was almost a certainty that he. would go when he heard that she was definitely engaged to Phillip Barbour. That was one reason why she had asked Phillip not to tell anyone the news. She preferred that she should tell him herself. Jill had all the compassion of a woman towards a man who has sincerely declared his love for her. And she knew .Mark was sincere; indeed, she doubted it 'lie had ever had any sort of love affair before.

To diagnose Jill’s feelings and the remedy lor them would have taken average, well-balanced persons but a short time. They would have said: “Jill, yon need a holiday from this place. Your nerves are at the breaking point. Go away and look at things in retrospect, and then come back and face them anew.”

But Jill was not seeking the advice of well-balanced persons, unless it were that of Herbert Norgrove, who was coming to see her on the morrow. Jill had become unbalanced anawares, and, like most unbalanced people, claimed a monopoly balance. She decided to postpone opening Mark’s letter until she went to bed. She would be alone then and free from the fear that yet. another newspaper man might call 1 Her one consoling thought was that the police would soon solve the tragic mystery of the scarecrow and that eventually she would settle down to her workaday life on the farm, with this difference; that she would soon have the help of Phillip Barbour, whose sanity and common sense had already been so great a comfort to her. A little later, having spoken to Mrs Bloro about various domestic details of Stone Town, Jill departed to her beloved Ladyes’ Room. It was one of her joys to undress in this marvellous old room with its great rough-hewn rafters. Often would she smile at the difference between it and the elegant, slender rooms which were being built to-day for modern “ ladyes.” She changed into q suit of orange and black pyjamas, approved of herself in the mirror against the black and white scheme of the room, then crept into bed and tore open the .envelope of Mark’s letter.

It was well that she approved of herself, for Mark’s note was going to hurt her even more than she anticipated. My dearest Jill (it ran) 1 was in two minds aboiit this letter. First I meant to give you merely formal notice and leave it at that. Then I thought our association had been too sweet for such a sudden break. So now f have told you that I am going, I am writing you a slightly longer letter.

1 have told you that I love you,

and you have told me you love Barhour, which t don’t believe. Still,

you are under that impression, and 1 leave you to enjoy it as long as you

can. I can see now, that I have played the part of a rather gloomy lover, and, in a way, I feel myself to blame fur losing you. But you see, Jill, I have been so fdncl of you that I have not been able to put on cheerfulness in the face of your cool reception of my love.

If I aan not mistaken, there are going to be many more strange happenings here, and if 1 can help you I will, but 1 would like to go at once if I may. I. can always come hack and give you a band if you want help very much. As you know, I have always rented my cottage from your family on a lease. I shall continue to pay the rent, but shall hand the cottage to old George for reasons which he may tell you. This is about all. so good-bye, Jill. Yours always, Mark.

Jill read the letter twice, then lay back upon her pillow to think it over. It was just the simple kind of letter which a man like Mark would write. No attempt at embellishment: no thought of playing on her emotions. What also struck her, inter alia, was the monosyllabic construction_ of it. Mark had conveyed all lie wished to say with but a mere handful of words tarrying more than one syllabic. All the others were of that short kind which men of the earth have used for centuries and found good. “ I have told you that I love yon.” “ If I can help you I will, but I would like to go at once if I may.” “ I can always come back and give you a hand if you want help.” Of forty words, thirty-nine of one. syllable. So like Mark, forty simple words, breathing the unqualified devotion of a straight yeoman. It was strange that Jill should find herself analysing the details of a letter which meant so much to her. Perhaps subconsciously she was taking refuge in this way from its greater import. The expected blow is not robbed of its force by anticipation. In the same way Mark’s resignation lost none of its sting because Jill know that it was coming, and as the realisation of it became stronger Jill’s power of resistance lessened. Mark was the very stones of the barns. Even the animals would miss him, thought Jill.

And why was lie going? That was a question which was as difficult to answer as it was easy. He was going, obviously, because he loved her ; possibly bo was going because of Phillip Barbour. -More directly he was probably going as a result of her treatment of him that day, yet she could not bring herself to the point of selfblame. He bad, in ordinary words, asked for it, and not only had he asked for it, but had asked for it at a time when be was most, likely to get it. How on earth could he expect a girl to be normal when her farm was providing sensational headlines for the daily newspapers 1 She fell asleep from sheer exhaustion thinking on these things. Mark’s letter had even put Phillip Barbour out of her mind. Further trouble awaited her early next day when she found her engagement to Barbour on the_ front page of the popular daily to which Mr Hi-ssop contributed with such alacrity. Hissop had not done his work bv halve-s, and Jill was at a loss to think how he had gained so much information. There was a pen picture of Phillip describing him minutely. Also Hissop had" gleaned a little information from Inspector Norton oon-

■..•cniing the reason for Phillip's presence in the district which meant that Phillip’s so-called literary activities were mentioned elaborately. He had become in a night “ a well-known writer on antiquities.’ ’ Ho was an expert on heraldry and was descended froi* one of the noblest of French families. dill’s anger had no limit. it was rare that she lost her temper, but on this occasion she lost it so thoroughly that old .Mrs Blore thought she would never find it again. “ Look here, Mrs Blore," she blazed, “ what is the meaning of this? Have you been talking to any of those newspaper men?" Olio old lady took the paper, gasped, and subsided into the nearest chair.

“ Weil, t never.” she exclaimed. “ And do you menu to say you’re going to marry Mr Barbour?” “ I’m not so sure about it myscll now until J find out who has been babbling to those newspaper men. As though .1 haven’t got enough troub'e alreadv. Tell me, now, did von do it?” ‘'Lor, Miss dill, how could I tell them when I didn’t know myself? Bless iny soul, and so we're going to have a master liere, are we? Well, 1 always knew we’d have one some time, but 1 thought it would ho—” “ Oh, be quiet,” snapped Jill, who knew quite well that the name of Mark Hanson was on the tip of the old lady’s lips. “ Tell me now. What did you sav to them? Tell me at once.”

“ Well, 1 only told one of them that you couldn’t be troubled with him because Mr Barbour was with you. Honestly, Miss',l ill. I’d swear to that if the last day had come.”

“ Very well, then, I believe you,” said Jill, beginning to feel sorry for the old lady. “ But who on earth could have done it? Why, we were only engaged yesterday evening, and we hadn’t told a soul.”

“ Then it looks as if Mr Barbour must have told the newspaper men,” said the old lady timidly. it had not occurred that Phillip might he the culprit, but she suddenly remembered that he went to sco Hissop himself. “ Heaven help him if he did,” she exclaimed as Mrs Blore made a surreptitious escape. Yes, Air Hissop had made a good piece of work out of it. for not only was Jill amazed, but Mark Hanson also, who opened his paper in his cottage at breakfast time. “ Well, I’m damned,” he exclaimed aloud. 11 I really am. So he's got as far as being engaged to Jill, has he? Well, perhaps there’s time to stop him even yet. What a pair of fools to put it in a newspaper. I’ll tell Jill what I think about it whatever happens.”

A few minutes later he strode angrily across to the farm. “ Where's Miss Mcrridew?” ho asked of Mrs Blore. “ Tell her I want to see her.’’ Mrs Blore returned after a little time, due to Jill wondering whether she should see .Mark or not, and invited him in. He found dill looking frightened as she stood there, a picture of grace in her well-cut riding breeches and open-necked shirt. Mark’s anger increased as he thought of that lovely creature belonging to Phillip Barbour.

“Look hero, Jill,” he said, “1 haven’t come to talk about the letter I sent you. We’ll forgot about it for the moment. U is something else.” “What is it, Mark?” asked Jill, knowing full well the reason for Mark’s call. The look in his eyes was enough to show that he was in no sentimental mood.

“ It’s , about this damned newspaper,” he said. “ I suppose it’s true enough, because you as good as told me you, were going to marry him. In fact, you couldn’t do much else when half the farm has seen you being kissed by him. But why have you been fool enough to got engaged and announce it on the very day of the murder?” “ I—l didn’t,” began Jill, but Mark cut her short.

“ Well, you got engaged, anyhow, and the whole affair looks as ridiculous as it is callous. You’ll never live it down, Jill, never.” “ I don’t care,” said Jill, with an attempt at defiance which did not deceive Mark. He knew she was going to cry, but ho went on regardless. “ Tell me, if you didn’t put it in that newspaper, who did?” “ I—l don’t know, Mark,” whispered Jill, as a tear stole down her cheek. “ Really I don’t. I was as surprised as you.” “ Well, if von didn’t put it in I’m pretty certain who did,” said Mark, •• anti that’s your precious Mr Barbour. What a nice gentlemanly taste he has if lie did it!”

‘‘ Mark, [ don’t know. I haven’t seen him to-day, yet. Oh, Mark, why are you so unkind to me?” She was crying now. “ Why can’t I be left alone in all these troubles? And you, above all people.” “ Yes, me above all people,” answered Mark. “ It’s because 1 am me that I’m talking to you like this. You know 1 love you, and 1 on my side know that you’ve turned me down. But it makes no difference. I shall always regard you as belonging to me whatever happens, and I’ll look after you as and when 1 like, whether you’re married or whether you’re not. Damned if I don’t. And heaven help anyone who tries to stop me.” Jill ceased weeping for a moment and looked at Mark with wide-open eyes. From where had this new Mark Hanson come? It was not the Mark she knew, the semi-abased, semi-sulk-ing Mark. She trembled as she stood there. All she could say was, “ Oh, leave me alone. Mark.”

“ I’m going to leave you alone, now,” said Mark. “ J have said all I want to, except that lor two pins i d giye your Mr Barbour a thrashing.” Jill made no reply for a lull minute, then she walked up to Mark and caught hold of the lapels of his jacket. Her cheeks were stained with tears, and she spoke hoarsely. “ Mark, don’t ever be like this to me again,” she pleaded. Mark looked down upon her and wondered at the new beauty which had como to her in her distress. There was a strange light in her eyes, winch, had he not known otherwise, he might have taken for love. “ Jill,” he said, with sudden tenderness, “ I’ll try not to if you’ll try not to deserve it.” A little smile, like faint sunshine after rain, came across her face. Fortunately, Benson, one of the larm hands, called at that moment to see her on business concerning some cows, so that she was compelled to dash away to bathe her face and to resume the business of being a farmer.

(To be continued.)