THE LOTUS EATER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15685, 12 August 1914, Page 11

THE LOTUS EATER.

! ,BY aY ESMONDS. i I' ' • ■ COPYRIGHT U ■ pffAPTER^" - ) -,- * „«uld not i*fr?ia fro" 1 smilm I of Merridew to ||]fjs matter in this off-hand manI sett!? *» » If % T » »id "That's the trouble. „Ah! ho saiu. . lit****!"' II ft i ■ her again. 1 if that *W * ou would do undei th ° I kcU ffl6tances. a eirl," said Nicolas, speak--1 W h Srn'S "I would not Lllow I ins ratl (0 stand Between her and mo. I !»# t£W First of all, I i J tt£ euro that there was no real § sloW /Mate- then I would surround f <& a rth mv own love that she could I ***«■?ftw» it. L should wo | **.«*', SjnSHidwHyfi. My eyes should '•' lier m a • love my voice would speak it. |i mirror m> •. ' r gou id write sonnets fli I ffere qdi a Petrarch and Dante. If I •■ to her, 11 I; an i would weave melodies -•JSSS If 1 were a painter" I iJjtJS--3 suddenly-" I would paint I over to the portfolio and I ' : ?ASttew it open. Ho hold aloft : 'V f? a,- 0 { Patricia. | l Si." he said, "if I over am m W , „t will be with beauty such as that. 1 Si„,«red his voice suddenly. "And I Mtrbyl shall never bo in love," ho I* !vi "For it is *Mty l worehi P ; boaut J' ' «vwy shape and form. Beauty in Slot in"the form which holds her. ffi. cheeks were to pale, if those eyes K grow dim. if that hair were to : Sp, colour, where would be my love? ' * Lie'the portrait down. lam abf% talking of myself while I St to be thinking of you Tell mo, I Shard, is your, lady fair? ■ f,, To 'me most beautiful," answered • fconrh "Now and for ever." r nJV'said Nicolas, "for ever! That I ; . where wo differ. For no woman is I L(jful for ever, Richard, no matter I M delusions we cherish." I •v 0 » said Richard, "if we look only ' . the' externals. But love never does I '*k only at externals, Nicolas. There is I pinner'beauty which is immortal. Surely i «i believe that?" ': -yicolas sighed rather heavily. I | ta't know," was all ho said. _ ' Richard looked at him curiously. .: 'Surely my dear boy," he said, "you IM while you are painting. Your pic- %» betray you. Every line of them 'States with the spiritual beauty I

jean. ' . , ... , , J light .sprang into Nicolas eyes. "My pictures," he said, almost reveratlv. " I dream strange dreams when I m'painting, Richard, .dreams that but jjldon come true. If my painting ever jjtily suggests the outlines of them it is iing more than I have dared to hope." '"■But the stuff of which dreams are sjie is not the material we use in the jsnufacture of our daily lifq. I wish it «re. Dreams are mostly unconscious rejections of our daily life," observed I Richard. " "Not always, Osage! What of nightujres and revelations?" ."Ideal in neither," said French, mvely. "So I am not qualified to anuer you." -He got up. " Well, I must i oft. .Good-bye, Nicolas. I don't supsee I shall see you again before I go. like my advice, and start another picire. Or fall in love with Lucretia, and ■jwhaps she will sit for you." " Not I," said Merfidew. "No Luletia for me, thank you! My divinity Its there." . He nodded at his palette and trashes. ." Besides, Del Sarto came to grief 1 over his Lucretia. Sorely you do sot desire a.similar fate for me?"

Richard smiled, but said nothing. The two. walked through the long hall towards .'lie open door, through which the June anikne was flooding, touching every object with" its bright gilding. In the room to the left Paulina was singing. She had I beautiful voice, rich and flexible, full is! the melody which has for its natural home the warm southern country of her mother. She was singing in Italian, and loth Nicolas and Richard paused on the freehold for a moment to listen. Nicolas .jailed with somewhat of a wry expression a iris face. ' :'■.'■■.-.

"There is beauty .lor yon," he said. "Exquisite, vibrant, subtle. My dear fcllow, how infinitely more alluring is a race than a woman!" He laughed sndm "yorgot," he said. "You are a love. Well, you deserve good fortune. toember what I said I would do in jour place. Be sensible/refuse to acknowledge possibilities, until they become actualities; go in, in other words, and win.' -'; ■■■:* ■ '•'.'' '

:■ His utter. unconsciousness sent Richard from the house in a considerably happier ■mm of mind than that in which he had atari it. ..At all events, as far as ■ ?V a ! eraed .' the coast was :! le s;« er remained Rachel. iS r( i 61ghed as he pro■tfanced her name.

i CHAPTER XI. ' days after Patricia had left her IkS the editor mto her She carried the letter withmVm it into her bedroom id St « by the window to read it.' When mm sat looking out at nothing for a Stating with excitement Mr. Win.wton.wrote:—' • SiJr*w ymrr before Eli: hem you mUBt allow ™» to 2L ate you ' The . v sh <>w «tra: . fpy Promise for one so young. At lfe?2»* Mm biisfid by j«g f the faults of youth, and they Wttt°? much haste in tho writSjS d T y° ur| g lady, if you are pre£«e and other faults, if you are pre-' m t° do battle with the disillusion , withe disheartenment which inevitably J the fate of all artists, my advice & f n u,P 011 OTd . Prosper, for you unSfe the gift of writing." »he took the letter up and "** it again. gtat it mcd to her that ehe must be ■>Jft..>p-Wmteton/tte editor of M Lm be »t, literary papers in EneW, r could m have written » to her: B» read Jit not once, but twice, three m, and oftener. She raised it remfS'&ft '% and danced round the Bs? ;, T h° suddenl y she to mm If what Mr. Winter-ton had S? We. If she could write, and he » M . 'if she worked away at her «wtf. \ skve w<mld evcr hil ™ toiled *&*"*?s she would work for her fflOiiOD At that moment it seemed to ,L? nothln 8 *» mattered. Fame, Iwrri . m l S *, dßcked with the immortal ffii\°W 0 ™ her acited ''"agination, troth i. fel? down and worshipped. In :Sf e «»very exciUd. was Cfll the door of that threshold had !«ung open and a glorious vista opened :^i r da. Nowoii(lerpoorPa »W it* \ nio % littto sitting-room, iSmH Seated at thoSreakl Post »v« Tt Waa °°«*W with her «hUb >iK d - ab affair of bills »«d cirlaid th. • u Swe Pt those aside and wwTft 1 * lettcr Wore her. 9* lid?/ throu 8 sober ly. but her sympiltktjcd ' : y Wore down '«Ti ts ?'". s,ie said, a * 'ho put it ■ v s» £iy* rj gooi And Mr - IS?S think I le ° V,idn,t Writ * that Ungood?'' m thou my work

Wi" re of (t People like that ' •w-riffi™*?? """Warily. And they "beZ!' j? ld Rachel > » little wistfully, things dlsa PP a - ntme nt is a horrid day*'ohH on air for the rest of tho •k md. p e " sth of her 0041 news theatre*!, *, cl come with her to tho *aa dLin • aftem6on - Sarah Bernhardt *38K5 ln - c one ?! u, ° bi s theatres » and C J mi >' WW Beats in the 4teS whM6 Rachel and she had a aBSSftK But even . tlie genins ,her SS ™hwoman could not keep S»yJ&'A , raalc words > "Some m&m '? ■ d l aU also be faraou *>" rang WM Rachel'* hand, and Rachel

sympathetically returned '• - the pressure. There, is .no fellowship like. that of artist for artists, and Rachel knew and understood her sister's excitement. That evening Richard French came into the little flat. B[e had ample, oxcuss for calling, for Rachel was ijndiggujsedly an. xious for news about her picture. But since his visit to Merridew a couple of days previously, he had wavered uncertainly over his future plane. While his mind was so undecided, it seined to him that tho less he saw of Rachel the better it might be for both. But .he attrition proved too strong for him, and he decided the day before his departure, that lie would go up to Kensington. He found both girls in excellent spirits. • Patricia was still supremely happy owr her morning's letter, and Rachel had enjoyed her afternoon, and was also sincerely pleased in her sister's pleasure. She told French about it almost as soon as he arrived. •--',

He looked at Patricia kindly. "lam so glad," ho said. "Mr. Winterton is a ' great man." "Oh!" said Patricia, blushing vividly. " But Rachel ought not to have told vou. I havo done nothing yet. And Mr. Winterton was only kind. He may bo quite wrong about me." "Well," said Rachel cheerfully, we will hope not. And now go and tell Annie that wo will havo somo coffee, really good coffee, the best she can make." Patricia disappeared, and Rachel smiled at Richard. "She is very young," she said, " and very happy. I can't toll you how pleased I am that Mr. Winterton did not disappoint her." " It is really a very good thing to have his approval," said Richard.' "Ho is not enthusiastic as a rule. He has a namo for giving short shrift to most literary aspirants."

" Has he ? Then you don't think Patricia is counting too much on his letter."

He shrugged his shoulders. " Miss Patricia will have to prove herself," he said. "We all have to do that. But it is much better to start work with hope as a companion than with discouragement, better both for the work and for ourselves."

" And now," he said, "I have come to ask what you would like me to do about your picture. lam going away for about a month. Will 1 you trust it to Collins' care—l promise you it will bo well looked after—or would you like to accept my offer before I go?" Rachel hesitated. She would have been glad to hand the portrait ever at once, but she had a shrewd suspicion that Richard was giving her more than it was worth, and her pride forbade her to ac'cept. She would wait and see if any offer so good camo in. " If you don't mind and it is not in the way," she said, " I think I should like it to remain whore it is for the present.' 1 "It is not in the least in the way. I think you are right. It has already attracted some attention.

"Has it really?" said Rachel, with rather an over-acted indifference. "I am glad. It may bring mo in some work if it docs nothing else. Where are you going to, Mr. French?" Richard saw she was anxious to get away from the subject of the portrait, and fell in with her desire at once. He told her that his father's health called him to Ireland, adding, "I shall be glad to go back. It is over a year now since I was in Tipperary, and the old place has a great attraction for me."

"I am sure it has," said Rachel. "What I recollect of it was beautiful. Do you remember.the. long days on the lake during the dapping. How proud I was to hold a rod!" Richard laughed. "Do you remember that ?" he asked.. "It is a long time ago since.those days. Yes, I remember you in the boat. I shall be too late for the dapping this year. The tents are all struck by now." The recollection of himself as a halfgrown boy holding the rod for .Rachel's childish fingers struck him forcibly, and he said, abruptly: J "Yon ought to come over with your sister for a rest. It would do you both good. Why do you never visit your father's old friends They are still there, i the.sisters, living over at Kilatel." " Are they ?" .said Rachel. " How I would love'it! But we have lost sight of them since father died. I don't think,'' she laughed _ amusedly,... "that Aunt Catherine -altogether approved of Ireland."

"No," replied Richard. "And she doesn't approve. of London, does she ? But you are no longer bound to share her prejudices." It occurred to Rachel thai, she had been rude, so she hastened to explain. " Aunt Catherine had no reasons for disapproving of Ireland," she said. "As a matter of fact, she had never been there. She had the old-fashioned British idea about it; she looked upon the Irish as a dirty, improvident race. lam afraid mv father rather confirmed her in her views. No one could accuse him of'improvidence. He was undeniably Irish, and his studio was often very dirty." Richard laughed. "Oh, I remember your father," he said. Rachel laughed also. The vision of Mr. Sidgreaves, dishevelled and distracted, seeking for his palette and brushes j amongst the devastation of Aunt Catheri ine's tidyings, rose to her mind. The recollected contrast between the familiar figures of her father and her aunt moved her to say: "I know I should adore Ireland. Tell me about her, Mr. French. My remembrances of her are very misty.' Richard's eyes grew bright, and his voice unconsciously softened as he spoke of his beloved fatherland. Ireland was to him the kingdom of his fancy. In her was. centred every characteristic of scenery and temperament which best, appealed to his poetic imagination. No wonder that he waxed eloquent as he spoke of her rushing rivers, of her purple mountains, of her broad expanses of earth and sky. j " And, over all, 'atmosphere," he concluded. "Atmosphere as it is not known in England— delicate, all pervading— veil behind which the virgin hides her mysterious charms." He broke off abruptly and laughed. "You think lam exaggerating," he said. " Come over to Ireland and see her for yourself." "Some day," said Rachel, wistfully. " Perhaps— day." _ Patricia came back with Annie and the coffee, and the conversation fell back on to more general lines. The coffee, made under Patricia's supervision, was excellent, and Rachel, pleased with her own hospitality, dispensed it very sweetly. Richard lingered as long as he dared in the charmed atmosphere, and when he rose to go it was with a feeling that he would carry away with him a picture that would help him through the long days of exile. For as exile he regarded his holiday—a self-imposed exile, which he now looked upon as a means to his end. In a month much might happen. It was possible even that Rachel would bo cured ,of her fancv. And perhans he would bo missed. A sudden resolution came to him. In a minor degree ho would act on Nicolas' advice. Ho would begin in l small ways to nuke himself felt in her I life.

" May I send you some views of the country when I get over?" ho asked. "I shall be taking some photographs." " Do, please," said Rachel. And Patricia added, " We would love to have some."

He went away feeling happier than he had done for sorno time. It was Patricia who went down tho little narrow passage to the door with him, and whose voice bade him the final God-speed on his journey. Perhaps ho read a little too much in her parting words. " Good-bye, Mr French. We shall bo so glad to see you back again." But if ho did it was no more than Patricia intonded. "I like Mr. French," sho said, when she was back in the little sittingroom. "Don't yon, Rachel?" "Very much," said Rachel, heartily. And Patricia fighed. "It will be dull without him," she said. "He has been so often here about your picture. Is he going to have the picture, Rachel?" "I don't know --.i."

" I should ' ~« him to have it," said Patricia, dpyidedly. " Although it is of that hoi-'ld Mr. Merridow, it is your work .did I think Mr. French would appreciate it." "Do you think so!" Rachel's voice was frankly indifferent. Patricia sighed again. She looked at Rachel steadily for a minute, and then turned away.

iTo be continued on S»tuid»y next.)