SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 14565, 30 December 1910, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

THE STRANGE EXPERIENCE OF HEP WORTH CAREW. ! BY K. U. GUTHBIE. ! | I [Corirrijht.] HfiPWORTH CaKEW, portrait-painter, hated travelling-companions. So, on the soft Sej>tenvber afternoon when to journeyed down from London to spend the week-end at Belbmy, ho tipped tho guard and secured a first-class compartment to himself. Then he settled down comfortably in a corner and buried himself in the Times. It ytsw not lons» before the sun-saturated breeze floating in at tho carriage windows and rustling the paper served as a lullaby and soothed him off to sleep. Some time later Hepworth Carew yawned, stretched, and finally opened his sleepy eyes to seo seated, in the opposite far corner of the carriage, a girl. Ho stared at her in open amazement, too bewildered, too astonished, to remember the claims of politeness. In truth, ho had every Tight to be bewildered, for tho girl's presence was wholly inexplicable. Tho only stop tins afternoon express made between London and Bclbury had taken place long before ho fell asleep, and, save for himself, tho carriage had certainly been empty then. How then had she com© there? As he looked at his travelling-companion, however, these speculations became lost in others more pleasing, more interesting. Tho girl (whoso figure was turned slightly away from him, as she sat gazing steadily out of the window at the passing landscape) was wonderfully, delicately beautiful; not only this, but she seemed equally unconscious of her own compelling charm and of his admiring scrutiny facts sufiicienily noteworthy to a man whose experience had been largely of posing 3 admiration-seek-ing womanhood. By both these things, then, Carow was fascinated. And yet it was neither tho girl's beauty nor her indifferenco which most deeply impressed him, chaining his attention riveting his regard. It was her intense, unnatural stillness; this and a certain haunting suggestiveness which pervaded her, of aloofness from her surroundings. To say that Carew was fascinated, then, is to convoy but little of his state of mind as ho looked across at that gracious, motionless figure; so 'absorbed, so uufiatteringlv indifferent to. his regard. He was much more than this. Ho was most uncomfortably conscious of passing through an entirely new and original experience. For, in some strange manner, ho felt that he was in a presence differing widely from any he had ever known before—a presence at once elusive, impalpable, yet compelling, and withal disquieting. Carew shook himself angrily as tho latter thought forced itself upon him (to his robust _ nature it w-as eminently distasteful); yet in spite of his annoyance it remained; a vague, intangible dread, coupled with a strong irresistible _ attraction. He was not disposed to submit tamely to tlieso sensations, and determined to break the intolerable, oppressive silence at one© So ho loaned forward and let down the window with a jerk. " If you do not mind." ho said with aggressive cheerfulness to tho girl at tho window. ' Then at length she turned and looked at him. . . . Carew never adequately described that, moment; only ho said that, as the clear yet mysterious gaze fell upon him it held hrm spellbound, seeming to create a subtle sympathy between himself and his companion, and tempering with a sense of tranquility that vague, intangible dread which he had so resented. And then, as they sat gazing at each other, tho train slowed into Belbury station, and in a dreamy, half-conscious state Carew left the carriage; more impressed, more disturbed, than ho cared to own even to himself. As he took tho path across the fields to Belbuiy Hall tho haunting charm of his , fellow-traveller was with him still, a gentle presence, delicate as the beauty of the quiet, autumn day, tinged, too, with something of its sadness, its mystery, and sense of loss. By degrees, however, the fascination of country sights and sounds claimed him, and soon, in the pipe of the robin, the whirr of tho pheasant, and, above all, in the yellow of piled hay-ricks, and the purple of ploughed fields, he forgot his recent strange experience, and, strolling leisurely along, gave himself wholly to enjoyment of the season's mellow beauty. On reaching Belbury Hall (I rolato the Story succinctly, as it was told me, only . ohronicling such facts as bear directly on • the case) Carew found his host and hostess . absent, through some misunderstanding as '. to tho time of his arrival. He knew the ' place well, however, and had no difficulty i in deciding how to amuse himself till their • return, choosing to await them in the library. ( It is necessary, for tho full understanding i of that which followed, to give a slight description of this room. It was long, low, and well-lighted, narrow for its length, its panelled walls lined with well-filled book- \ shelves. A smaller, darker room opened out 3 of it at right angles: originally tbo -jtwoJN

j apartments had been separate, but the door ! had now been removed, ar.d the door draped ; with heavy curtains. Carew, who was book-worm as well as '•- artist, smiled with satisfaction as_ he enj tered the larger room, for he promised him- ; self a:j hour cf epicurean enjoyment. He j wandered along, taking down a book here ' and a book there, discussing the fine flaj vour of many a choice morsel. But. to his j annoyance, the keen pleasure he promised j himself was lacking. For. as he passed I from book to book, that strange feeling of ! nervousness he had experienced so recently, j and had strive!: so hard to forget, came j upon him again more convincingly, more | overfx>weritigiv than ever. j Aliped to it now, moreover, he was cor.I scioiss of a, strong electrical excitement, a ; sense of expectation, and a firm conviction | (.udicrous in the face of that emptv room) I thru iV u;i< I:0 : aloivp. i Involuntarily ho left his desultory idling ; among tise books :! nd passed down the lib- ! lrv - t : JI at l 01:gt -, he stood in the curtained | coorway leading to the inner room. Then j tame upon him more strongly than ever the • sons.* f that somo iiuangib.'o presence shared : J:'s soiitude: a sense noscessing him so en- ■ ! ir.-:y '"at ! *. was loss with a feeling of surl ijriv? t.'inr: with one of certain.}- confirmed. : that he drew aside the heavy curtains from I *.' K \ doorway and saw. seated in the windowi »-.-'. iat the- end 0 the ~:naller room, his ! travelling-companion of the momine. . Hepworth Carew's heart beat wildly a« . he stood, motionless. looking for the second j ''me that day on that haunting, exquisite | tignre. , Instinctively he drew out his sketch-book. ■ and. impelled by a feeling of strong excite- : inent. began rapidly to commit- to paper the : charming picture before him. No thought ■ or the solecism ho was committing occurred j to him. though he was usually tho most Punctilious of men. He said afterwards : th:.r- it was as though the matter were taken ! entirely out of his hands; he was possessed ! solely and completely by a sons** that vital i i>>ueji hung on ids makinvr this drawing, on : ins perpetuating the exquisite beauty of this I fa tv. I , _N> he drew on unseen, and it seemed to j mm that his pencil was inspired, for 'he I portrait was instinct with a delicate vitality. j a Tremulous fleeting charm pervading every ; feature, hoverimr in overv rracious curve. ! Ir was such work as Heoworth Carew had i never so much as dreamed of achieving— • work whicii one-.- and for all placed him I above tho level of hated mediocrity. j He worked with incredible rapidity, and | ,l ' as nutting the finishing touches to his j sketch, filling in light tendrils of wavy hair. i and accentuating the already striking likei ness by soft shadows about mouth and I chin, when a distant shutting of doors, a | swift-approachinT vibrant voice, and a rustj in? of silk skirts spoke of the return of It's I host and hostess. ! Instinctively Carew cropped the heavy : curtains and pocketed his" sketch-book as j he advanced to meet them. j . ,' So sorry to have been out: so horribly I inhospitable: how you haven't been bored", i itovv have you amused yourself? Had vou a good journey? Only stopped once? Capital, Vou told Fletcher to bring vou tea, i of course? Xo? Oh. you must lx? famished. I «o will dress and dine at once." j Thus, brisk Mrs. Mallory. well-dressed, : modern, electric, convincing as an east wind, ; invigorating as a tonic. With her advent i ail the elusive mystery-, the strange hypI notic influences of tie afternoon vanished. I and with it the memory of that sweet pre i senco in the inner room. It was as though the two personalities could not exist side by side—tho impalpable, ethereal entity of the one, and the abounding, strenuous energy : of the other. JB'" as ho dressed for dinner Carow's | thoughts wandered back to the day's experiences, and dwelt there h'ugeringlv. vet halfresentfully. for ho was puzzled and—manlike —was displeased thereat. He assured himself, however, as he buried downstairs, that a meeting with his travelling-companion was now inevitable, and eagerly looked round for her as he entered the drawingroom. But to his infinite chagrin she was not. there. His host and hostess, moreover, showed no signs of waiting for anyone, and Carew gave his arm to Mrs. Mallory. asking as lightly as his intense interest" would allow. "And your other guest—what has become of her?" .. \rP' Mallory looked at him bewildered. What do you mean, what guest?" "The very beautiful girl, of course, who was in the small library this afternoon when I was in the big one," Carew replied, seating himself at the table. Mrs. Mallory stared at her guest with wide-eyed astonishment; so did her husband, so did the footman. «'*.> dear fel!ow '-" said phlegmatic John -Manory, "are you mad?" Not that I am aware of." replied Carew a little nettled, not only br Ids host's tone of good-tomperod contempt, but Ivy the subtle anxiety which possessed him against his will. " I assure, you there was a lady sitting in the window-seat of tho small library this afternoon: I was in the big room, and I saw her distinctly, though she did not sco me." w" Ifc -»V"n St hae L boen a caller," broke in Mrs. .Mallory "how annoying it is not to be told when people come. Now. who could it have been. Norah Lake perhaps, or hleatior Ford—not that cither of them is particularly lovely. Mr. Carew. I must know who tho beauty was, and at, once Fletcher." to the footman. "•who called this afternoon, and why was I not told?" "No one. ma'am," was (lie muchagsrneved answer, " no one but Mr. Carow " The perplexity deepened on Mrs. Malory s face; then a glimmer of perception broke through tho cloud. She summoned tor sternest expression, but in spito of it. her dimples laughed. "You need not stay."- Fletcher disappeared.. "My dear Mr. Carew," she cried with mischievous delight, when they were i alone. "I have solved tho mvsterv'of the girl in. the library. Now, who "do you think i it was? Can't guess? Gelatine, my now I-rench mud! Oh, it's delicious. Buf" severely. "I am very annoyed with her— very—what she meant by' being in the library I cannot imagine. However" resignedly, "I have no doubt that is'nothing to wliat she is capable of doing in my absence; she probably makes a point of playing croquet with Charles and Fletcher in all my nicest clothes when I am out " Carew laughed, and answered in the same strain, Something withheld him from discussing the matter further, though he know well that Mrs. Mallory's conjectures were completely at fault. And so the subject dropped, and the conversation turned to the latest play the newest society game-folly;; it skimmed lightly over tho thin ice of tho most recent fashionable scandal, and plodded along tho path of politics. Then they left th© diningroom, and Carew beat John Mallory at billiards, and diplomatically lost to Mrs. Mallory. and so journeyed "finally by the "way of the smoke-room, and whisky-aud-soda, to cigarettes and a chat with his hostess over her boudoir fire. And then it happened that lively Betty Mallory's vivacity • forsook her, and presently, subdued and saddened, she told Hepworth Carew a story, and made him a request. "I paid such a sad call this afternoon," sho began. "It was on some clear old people named Fane who have lately come to the neighbourhood. No, you have not met tliem; they took Venacre Hall about a month ago. It is the saddest thing in the world," she went on, "they have just lost, their only child very suddenly; the most beautiful girl I ever saw, and thev are heart-broken." Carew made a sympathetic remark, tnd Mrs. Mallory continued; sho told tho story of the girl's brief illness, and finished by saying, "Tho Fanes have no recent portrait of their daughter, and it distresses them beyond measure. The only thing they have is a small photograph, taken years ago, and they think of having it enlarged. But even then they will not, have her exquisite colouring." Mrs. Mallory paused, looking at Hepworth Carew. Ho met her gaze and understood. "Anything I can do—" ho began. "Ah, how good of you," broke in Mrs. ; Mallory. "I knew you would say that. Ihe fact is," sho went on hurriedly, "I told tho Fanes that you were staying |hero a day or two (they knew you by repute, of course), and I almost promised that you would paint Adela's portrait from the photograph, colouring it from my description—will you?" " Certainly, I'll do my best," Carew answered, " but I am afraid it will hardly bo satisfactory, as I have never seen Miss Fane. What was sho like? I wish you would describe her." _ Mrs. Mallory did so, gazing tearful-eyed into tho glowing heart, of the fire. As she warmed to her subject, and her description grew vivid and life-like an expression of horror crept over Carew's face. Every vestige of colour left his cheek, his grip "tightened on the arms of his chair; ho hung on his hostess's words. Sho looked up and met his gaze. "What, is the matter?" sho cried. "Why do you look like that?" Hepworth Carew lifted a trembling hand to his breast-po<ftct. He opened his sketchbook and drew a leaf from it. Ho laid it in Mrs. Mallory's hand. It was a sketch of a girl's head. " Adela Fane!" burst from Mrs. Mallory's lips. "Herself; her living, breathing self! You knew her then?" A queer smilo passed over Hepworth Carew9 drawn, lips. " Yes," ho said, "I have mot her twice." I do not pretend to supply psychological reasons for tho apparition of Adela Fano to Hepworth Carow, I only know that it oc•corred. Lct-.thxie©^OTWßrt-foP'ifc.- - who can..