THE HOUSE Of DOOM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18641, 23 February 1924, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE HOUSE Of DOOM.

BY KATHARINE TYNAN. Author of ?. "Denya f the Dreamer,". "A Shameful Inheritance," ' "John Bulteel's y; Daughter," "A' Mad , M»nria«e," etc. - v

Copyright.) CHAPTER IX. : Jim de Lacy, although he never lost; the shy look as if he might bolt at any moment, , was : quite friendly : and talkative. lie sat on the : edge •of his 'chair/ with his straw hat on his eyes strangely luminous, regarding Oona steadily with a grave wonder , and. delight in her . beauty. He \ accepted the offer of tea, and followed Oona to' the Little Book Room, where Tim Casey had brought fresh tea and a relay of hot cakes. Tom had ' been called away j to see one of the local Constabulary, who were- always coming on business of one kind or another or no ; business at all. This time it was . about a sheep ; which had been killed and mauled mysteriously. : Those simple giants were a huge delight to the Websters. Oona had exhausted her phrases of admiration for them. One who came had blushingly sunges'ted at the time of Sir Mile's death, when there might have been a suspicion of foul play, that it was as well to " let bygones be bygones." " Ye might be diggin' .up the family skiliton, sir, if I might make so bould," he said. "It mightn't be too aisy to lay it again." . # When he had finished interviewing his visitor; Tom had to see one or two other people on business connected - with the estate. It struck him half-humorously, when he had finished, that he miffht as well take up the job of estate agent to the Talbots. No one else seemed particularly anxious to take it, and, of course, there was no prospect of the young widow being able to assume the reins of management, for a long time to come, at all' events. \ We • wondered if Oona had already embarked on the task of winning lattice Talbot out of herself. Oona * did notusually let the grass grow under her feet when there was something to be done. He had never spoken to his sister about tho peculiar circumstances which made it essential for Lettice Talbot to lift herself out of the hopelessness of her grief, nor could he have brought himself to do it. To him it was a sacred and tender mystery, this maternity that was coming to the noor child in such ' tragic circumstances. It was something he would not allow his own mind to dwell upon. He had a fine and rare delicacy of spirit, and ho was still faintly touchod with the prudery of mind which exists in the American family circle, making allusions impossible which would have ln-en simple .and right to ll>o Islander in the circumstances. .4 "We ought to take her away," he said to himself, as he went up the stairs. " She must, escape from these sad associations, and ■ bring her baby into the world unhaunted by them. But" He was; about to say or to think that Oona's good sense would bring them through the 'difficult position. In his own mind he was .iot a prude at all. He had not walked the hospitals to be a prude at the end. Onlythe shackles of custom made it impofisible for him to dis- : cuss with his sister the circumstances of poor Lettice's case.' • ■ \ He had a sudden illumination, which made him pause when he had reached the top of the stairs from . which the corridor ran to the Little Book Room. Absently, he fixed'his eyes on the por- , .'trait of Sir Lewis Carteret. Chief Justice ' Of the Common 1 Pleas, an ancestor of the' %lbot family, which hung on the wall: but he was not thinking of that famous lawyer. y There was Christine Barron. Why. had he not . thought of her before ? Christine would understand what to do for poor Lettice during the sorrowful months in which he would have to stand aside Christine, that rock, that tower of

strength ! Christine was a woman doctor whom he had met at the house of some Oxford friends, a big, bonny Scotswoman, with and white i, face, blue eyes, and, "-greying hair all as though they had been powdered lightly with froet. He and she had become friends straight off. Christine would not fail him. She had a big practice among her own sex. He said to himself shyly that Christine would help. He could stand out of it,' leaving that poor victim of a cruel fate to the care of the woman. Oona knew and was devotedto Christine Barron. They would work ; together. ; . . ; ■ Lost in his thoughts he went on to the door of the Little Book R6om. He paused ever so slightly as he heard the murmur of voicfes beyond the floor- So Oona, still had her visitor. He wondered if Jim de Lacy would not be a bit difficult to detach. He, would ( probably be quite unable, from excessive shyness, to rise up and go after a reasonable period. But he liked the boy. ' , He opened the door and remained half-in, half-out of the room for a few moments, ' unnoticed. # . , Jim de Lacy was talking to a eager listener. So the shy boy had found his* tongue. "v.". ' " I heard a bit ,of music out of a cloud as I walked once at Cushendall," he said, " and the words were in the music. I thought I'd never get home 'fast enough to write them down lest I'd forget them." It was said with perfect simplicity. ' " I'm glad you' think it good. I never can tell myself." He seemed perfectly at home, lying back in a long chair. In a mirror facing him as he entered Tom Webster saw the boy's face- There was a light in his eyes as they rested on Oona. : Tom Webster had a sudden sympath tic comprehension as though ■he stood beaide Jim de Lacy and saw with his eyes. Tom had always said that there were two Oonas—one modern and American, the other a lady out of a ballad or a Rossetti picture. There had been perfect tolerance between. the devoted brother and sister, even when they, did not see eve to eye. ' Now,, a moment, a little kindling of irritation stirred in his mind. What did Oona mean by making the boy look at her like that ? " There was a tapping at the door, and Bridget Casey looked in. Her message was for Miss Webster.* , •.

Oona went to the .door, where there was a whispered consultation.. She came back again and held out a frank hand to the visitor. , . . " Well, good-bye, Mr. de Lacy," she, said. " I've been real interested in our talk. I'm going to be taken up with Lady Talbot for quite a little while this afternoon. Please take any of these books you like." - She indicated with a wave of her delicate hand the heaped-up small volumes on table and chair which Tom had noticed before. Oona never travelled! anywhere without her Poets. . Since they had been at Claddagh her travelling library, as ; ; Tom called ■ it, . had oonie up with her. "I hope you'll keep any of them you particularly fancy," she went , on. . "I've duplicates of most. But don't let that prevent you i from coming to 'talk them over with me. . I'm here 'most every day. And you know you promised to read me that poem of yours. . I shall look forward. to it." ,■ . ,

, Jim de Lacy, red to the ears, stumbled forward to open - the door for her. As he stood holding it open she looked back at him over her' shoulder. She was: certainly - like a Rossetti picture. , Tom devoted himself politely to Oona's visitor, as he mentally called Jim de Lacy. ; But he was distracted. Had Lettice sent for Oona,, or had that speech of , Oona's as she said good-bye ; meant only that Bridget Casey wanted her to i sit by Lettice during' her absence ? It was time they should rouse her. No one could keep. going on as Lettice Talbot was doing and remain sane. i His mind wandered from Jim de Lacy., He had had a shdden inspiration. They might charter a yacht and take Lettice away to cruise , in strange waters, landing now and again in new countries. He wondered (if Christine would take her summer, holiday with \sthem, He had heard ' her say once that she would like nothing better, after the heat and dust, and glare Of London, than a few weeks of yachting. The sea always worked wonders for her. ' ' He came back to the knowledge that Jim ; de Lacy was Offering him fishing, with • a gentle deprecatory manner ; which suddenly struck him as charming. The boy bad beautiful manners. - , r :

"Sir , Miles never _preserved the„ fishing,"" he said. . "There are beautiful brown trout in our river." * I ' f > can show you where the best of them . lie."'.- v Tom Webster had not been thinking of. fishing, but at the words he hankered aft ' a beloved pastime. '> "Thank J you, " he >■ ■ said ,■ cordially. \ "I should like very much to - fish • with you one day. As : a matter- of fact, I've sent for a rod." * 7>-" ' y. ; 7"''■■•.V-.-' 1 "'-ft', "That's * good news," r said the boy, with a joytulness which somehow ■ Tom Webster found" rather touchingly pleasant. "You'll come for the day, and we'll .take our l lunch with us. .; ' You'll bring home a basketful." ' * He went off with a happy face, his pockets ;• bulging with Oona s slim and delicate volumes. They had fixed up a day for the fishing. There -were plenty of rods and flies :at Crow's Castle; and for some days now Colonel de Lacy had been able to leave his bed, so that his son could leave him. • - ,- N - : "You'd think I was doing him tht greatest favour m the worlr taking a day's fishing from him," Tom Webster said to himself; and added, thoughtfully, "sis "mustn't hurt him." v , He had only just time to think it before 'Oona was in the room bursting with some great news.. "She's up and dressed, Tom," " she said, ""and she's coming downstairs. You never saw anything so brave and pitiful. She had asked to see me. I hadn't to talk to her above a little bit when she said, 'Every one's been very patient with me. I've been very selfish.' I could say, like Mrs. Casey, 'God pity her!' She's just a little ghost. She doesn't look as though she could support all that golden hair of hers, We've just got to take care of her, the precious thing, you and I, Tom. See ?" "Yes," Tom Webster said. 'I've been thinking— we could take . her away for a cruise. Lefeuvre wrote to me < the other day that the Stella was . lying up in Southampton Water, He won't sail - her again this • summer, but he doesn't want to pay off the crew, and he'd be glad 'if I took her out. We might take Christine with us. Her holiday's due soon/' - . "That will be just right," Oona said, enthusiastically. . "It is a real fine idea, and I'm proud of V you. I. want you to tell me something. You remember that night I took you in for a peep at the poor lamb What was it you said to yourself as you stood and looked at her ? I saw your lips move." "I didn't know they moved, sis," said Tom Webster, colouring. "I expect I was saying to myself what the Kings of England have Jor their motto, 'Ich dien.' I felt she needed service." "I knew it was something, real romantic," Oona said, admiringly, "and I'm nothing if not romantic."

CHAPTER X. Every one seemed to be agreed that the yachting trip was an excellent idea. A great many people seemed to have pity and goodwill toward the poor young widow. No one apparently had any right or desire beyond the Websters to take an active interest in her. - Sir Stephen Lefeuvre's Stella was making ready at Southampton for a four or five months' cruise. Christine Barron had "signed on/' as she put it, for eight weeks certain. After that, her partner, Dr. Edith Flinn, would replace her for about the same period. The two doctors were agreed that Lettice Talbot was not to see Claddagh again till she came with her baby, if then. The day Tom Webster had teat with them in • Wimpole Street to discuss details, when the door .of their private sit-ting-room had closed after him the two distinguished women ; looked ; at ; each other.' :v "What do you make of.it?" thd partner asked of Christine Barron. "I have always known that Tom Webster was a knight," .Christine Barron answered; "so •it's; no news to me." ;- j The only one - who : found, anything amiss with the schema was Jim de Lacy. Oona had joined him and Tom at lurch the day of the fishing expedition, a:ad had asked Tom afterwards if he had noticed that the boy looked } like somebody's orphan when he heard they were going away. ■ .. ; ' * Yes, Tom had noticed. He had seen Jim de Lacy's crestfallen face.. The boy had faltered. "But you will come back ? with a piteous attempt at saving his face. "Your friendship means a great .deal to him, Oona," her brother .said, gravely. It was a certain sign,of something amiss when he called her Oona instead «of the familiar "sis." "I shouldn't laugh about it if I were you." < _ . Oona sent, him a swift, Jong look out of her beautiful sleepy eyes.. J "Sakes!" she . said. "Laugh!" and went out of the room. ' r j

July came in hot and muggy., Lettice Talbot had come back to bo a familiar figure in the life of the house. They were all agreed that it was too soon to expect anything of a return to the normal" things of life yet. She arose listlessly;! she dragged through the day listlessly; she went back to bed at night with a forlorn ; listlessness. If she ceased to be listless her eyes awakened only to suffering and fear. After all, the listlessness was a mercy ; it dulled the edge of anguish, or it was a sign of the dulling. Lulu was her mistress' inseparable companion. ; "She, too, was a frightened creature, or she shared her mistress' moods. She crept at Lettice's heels, or she lay at Lettice's f skirts. Tom ' Webster had prescribed an outdoor life for "Lettice. While she waited for'the yacht she must be out of doors as much as possible. Half humourously, ,he laid a hand on Lulu's little head. "You oppress the { dog, keeping so much indoors," he said. , ." ' «. She was most sweetly docile.' She had allowed to ' pass without commentperhaps she had not noticed—the alteration of her rooms. She had left the ' Bride's Room, and had now a jc torn communicating with Oona's. She , accepted ,all that was prescribed for her; • sat out of doors, drove, walked a little; but there - was always the listlessness and the shadow in her eyes. yr ; .°' _ _ , • Once when she ' and Tom Webster climbed through a pine-wood, where a thousand mountain : streams made a soft music, she suddenly turned and clung ?■} to him. .He could not imagine, while he soothed her, what had happened; 'but his heart was suffused by an ■ aching ; tenderness. ;' She was in his arms like a child. His hand went; stroking her golden head; all fretted and ruffled like a sick child's. He felt that he would have died for- her, just to take the horror from: her eyes, to make her forget. They had the pine , wood to themselves, save for the rabbits and the birds. Nevertheless he took his arms .from about her, relinquishing her with difficulty. It had been so sweet to feel her clinging to him. "Retro . me, Sathanas!"—he ; muttered something to himself that might have been that. He held her two hands within his own. r He murmured / soothing words to her as though she .was a"child. Another moment and he would * have caught her close to him as he had no right to do unless she was conscious of what she was giving. >. • ' Suddenly the haunted, the terrified look became more reasonable. She glanced over ■ her shoulder. ' .*■ "

"You heard the animals?" she said. "You smelt them !" - vv. "Impossible, at this distance," he answered. v' "You might have heard them. The wind blows from there." "Oh, but the .smell, the smell!" she said. "It has been all around mo; I can't get away from it, since that night." She shuddered, arid Lulu close at her Heels began to ; whimper, as though she, too, remembered. ; ' v -It wasi not a - moment , for her to recall terrible .memories ;or imaginations. She dould i not bear • it. >' She had a look of frailty that smote Tom Webster's heart like a sword. -Whither - was his vow-' of service leading him ? - It was too soon for ; hope, too soon for passion, The enormous tragedy had,. for the time at least, set this forlorn girl beyond human desires and aspirations. /. She "must be won like a sick child out of the mist of I terrors through :• which she walked before any man dared 'aspire to her. - _ ' / ■ v (To b» continued on i Monday next.) r