FLOWER OF THE BOG.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19502, 4 December 1926, Page 18 (Supplement)

FLOWER OF THE BOG.

(AN IRISH LOVE STORY).

CHAPTER IX. Telfer, sub-editor of tho Daily Signal, scanned' his vis-a-vis uneasily, the long sallow face of him betraying nervousness, .}iis yapping voice sunk to a smooth fawnin? key, the tail of his eye on a heavy inkstand which would be useful as a weapon of defence in case the caller should exhibit signs of lapsing into a lit of dementia. . - Yet the caller appeared harmless enough—an undersized man of quiet, unobtrusive manners, nursing his hat on his knees. The hair brushed back from his hi< r h, pale forehead was prematurely crev, "the face it framed prematurely (frveJ; Ten years tho sub's junior, .he looked twenty years his senior. . " Good of you to drop in, ielfer was saving; "awfully good of you. Stayin Maida Vale, aren't you? And you've been recruiting your _health in Surrey ? How do you find yourself lifter "your lengthy holiday, my dear Parratt.?" . - "As you see mo, a. broken potsherd flung on* the world's rubbish heap. And I didn't drop in of set purpose. 1 chanced this way and drifted in. Yesterday I was at The Rocket office, lhey emploved me, you remember, and were very civil—vety—and a trifle scared, like * 'lip smiled at Telfer's confusion. "Vou needn't be scared, you know," he said gently. "I'm only insane by starts, and then not dangerous. Between whiles | I am just a poor weevil whose mind has j gone blank in spots, 1 want confoundedly j to recollect things, and can't. It bothers j me wliatever's on the other side of the blank wall. I keep trying to get at j lt *" You shouldn't. ..bother," soothingly. •« Instead, why don't you try to sketch 5 I'm too busy straining to recover lost; memories.',' , I "■•Maybe the lost memories aren t worth recovering." 4 'i They be, or they wouidn t plague me. Prioi to this," tapping his forehead, "I'had trouble of some kind. Nobody is able to tell me the nature of the trouble, so it was, I conclude, strictly personal and private. If anyone could give me a clik I'd get behind that wall, Telfer.'" " Perhaps you'll happen on a clue. Hav<& you asked Pettigrew, jour former pal? *He might guide you.'.' " Old Alan ? Yes, he was a pal, but he's; left London." You can write to* him." "Haven't his address. Have you?"; "T havo. He fell heir to an estate in the west c. Ireland;- and went, thereto Veside on' his property. He and I dhln't hit it off .together He was close as wax with me. The rest of the staff had! the whole story though. Ho • took Simpson, one of our hands, with him. You knew Simpson ?" - - " Rather Ala,.- he and- I were a longish speh comrades out yonder.' Good sort, Simpson ' "'hey came to see me in 'hospital when 1 was .three-quarters dead and couldn't-recognise my own hand held in front oi nW "You say he has an estsite in Ireland What part of the 'distressful country?" / • : 1 Connaught The property is called Grange, ;neai th« village of Killyduff. I've forgotten tb< county, but I'll look it tip." |. " "• Thanks. I'll do that myself. I may as. well jot down your information in case I decide to write," producing a notebook 'and pencil. "I'm glad Alan struct it lucky. He's sterlin'g stuff." "Every mar, to hr taste. He wasn't my. fancy. Had he ever a love affair thai youfare aware of?" '1 He had not. He was unusual." Teller drew in his breath with a sucking sotjnd , ; -> Substitute, sly for unusual, and you'll be ffijmfeito : the truth. I'd a girl here receftflyf keen as mustard to run him to earth. I'told hef- all I could, and she sald-idie had acquaintances in Killyduff and would find her way there. She wasir't "going to write. Train and boat for her .straight away. I suppose'he threw her over when he rose in. the world; and still she seemed quite a lady, and wore expensive clothes, and looked ' as if' newspaper reporters weren't on her visiting list. ■ Anyhow, she was out to catch him." ' Patratt tucked the notebook into his ... waistcoat pocket and studied. Telfer gravely " Alan wouldn't throw a girl over. He had (ho sweetheart. Women didn't interest him." "This one would interest an anchorite —■a peach of a girl—golden hair, babyblue eyes, complexion of cream and roses, and most provoking dimples." If she hadn't cause to trace Pettigrew, why was she so keen ?" / " I can't imagine-" " It was plain as a pikestaff that Miss Stella Marquis meant to make him toe the ]ine and change her name to Mrs. Pettigrew." " Miss who? I—l get confused sometimes." "Miss Stella Marquis. Hi! What the deuce—V Parratt had, riser.!, his mouth pulled awry, and .had heeled up against the editorial desk. Telfer's first- impulse was to swing the massive inkstand'; his second, seeing the man's helplessness, to reach for a carafe of water and dash part of the contents in Parratt's face. The douche having a reviving effect, he administered a drink of the sarna cold comfort, and shook Parratt gingerly, imploring him to brace himself. , The victim of these Spartan methods of treatment -fumbled for his handkerchief, and tried with palsied hand to wipe the moisture off his cheeks. A violent trembling shook his body and limbs. He blinked at Telfer ihrodgh a watery haze. "You said Stella Marquis, didn't you ?" '■ 1 did. Has mention of her upset you ?" The question went unanswered. " Friend ,of yours ?" pfersisted Telfer. " j— n o—that is—would you mind your ciyn business ?' Stung by the ingratitude of the reply, Telfer retorted that he would bo happy to mind it if he had the freedom of his office, and to strengthen the hint lifted Parratt's hat and put- it on the head it belonged to. " You'd better go home," he skid. "Wait a minute. . I'm shivering like a dog in a- wet" sack. You were too liberal -with the water." " I didn't give you much. It's your nerves, old chap," in a softer tone, thinking it best to keep up the conciliatory attitude while the other man was on tho premises. " " Till you're quit of such attacks it isn't safe, for you to, be out alone You might come to harm." As he spoke his finger pressed a bell-push. '■ Yes, I've rotten nerves." Parratt had ceased to tremble, but his ©yes ij were dazed ' Telfer made a Tast attempt to- satisfyhis inauisitiveness. " You are certain Miss Marquis wasn't a flame of Pettigrew's ?" " I am dead certain she was not." " Well, vou' 11 admit she must have had a motive?" " Possibly, but it isn't our affair." A cautious expression had stolen over the orematurely aged face, a defensive expression which repelled curiosity. Responding to the summons of the bell, a cojnmissionaire entered, and Telfer explained that Mr Parratt had had an attack of faintness, and was to be taken downstairs in tho lift " Sorry I can't go down myself," added Telfer, gently manoeuvring his caller to the door " We are late going to press, and I'm rushed So long, my dear fellow, and do be careful of your health." . He wheeled back to his desk, muttering. . " Beastly nuisance his wandering in and having a had turn He's crockier than Funny how lie crumpled „ named Stella Marnuis, but there's shv ft 3 "sed to be amusinglv I thoaghts SIT tL « h<> matter from his ■.' ■ ■

BY MADGE BARLOW.'

tcopi'mum j

strong link in a chain of apparently unimportant incidents all helping on the denouinent of a drama Fate was staging in a remote coiner of the Green Isie. Parratt had not spoken after Teller started to elbow him politely out of the office. He didn't hear the commissionaire's sympathetic " Shall 1 fetch a cab, sir—?" He was a deaf mute, eyes fixed, staring intently at something tttrough, a crack in the blank wall at something behind it, a crack of Teller's, making. The portion of his brain which had reiused to think was thinking now, disjointly, as one thinks when one is scarcely half awake. Alan gone to Ireland, a man of property. . . Stella gone to Ireland . . . wanting" to know about Alan . . . keen as mustard. Keen about what? ... He wished things wouldn't float, away from him the moment he was on the point of grasping thorn. At the back of the wall he—Parratt—was saying to Stella that she must keep it till his return, for both of them. What was she to keep, and where were they talking ? Trees and grassy sward surrounded them, and his pockets were stuffed with letters that he kissed every night more reverently than many people say their prayers. Stella had written those letters. He was sure of that. Had ho lost them'! Had they been filched from him, or only mislaid ? If he could find and read them he would be able to remember more—would understand why mention of Stella broached the crack in the wall that imprisoned memory, and affected him thus strangely; he would grip and piece together the vague thoughts and floating visions, forming them into a connected whole. The bother was that the crack was too narrow, too fine for even a pent soul's passage. Oh, to widen it! The roar of the traffic forced itself on dull ears, insisting on being heard, setting his head awhirl. It seemed to come from a distance, now muffled, now swelling on the breeze, a medley of noises blending themselves into a rhythmic strain as of a band playing a melody a little jaded and out of .tune. Odd! Incon gruous! Hoof-beats, and throbbing petrol engines, and street cries, and shrill whistles, set to the air of an old chanty with which his brain was familiar: — " It ain't so very tar to the Good-bye Gate, Mv Honey, my love." Bewildered, he paused to listen. How did the rest of it run ? " Where we all iAve to so when we sins out the night. My Honey, my love." .- He knew that the song had some poignantly intimate relation to himself and Stella and the letters, but he groped in darkness for the roots of his knowledge. One fact was clear. Alan was not in the blurred, picture, never had been in it Then why had Stella gone in pursujt of him? Why was Stella a person of ease and leisure, expensively clothed? Queer! • It was all queer In his absorption ho stepped of! the pavement and a heavy motor-van ran over him. On the surface a c.hance accident; ye* v who can say how much of •life is chance, and how much destiny. The stunning impact which cleft his skull drove cleanly outward a splinter of shrapnel the surgeons had feared to tamper with on account of its dangerous proximity to the delicate nerve centres of the brain, drove it- out so that it could be seen and extracted. That a clumsy van should operate on him and not kiil him or leave infernal laceration was ono of the mysteries their profession brings them up against betimes. Examining chloroformed Parratt after the extraction they' could only attribute his marvellous escape to an' act of God. The brain was wholly uninjured. The pressure of the foreign substance being removed, he had every prospect of long and useful years before him if he did not succumb to extreme physical exhaustion And he did not He had days arid nights of weary travail, but he emerged from the deep pit of weakness to the peace of a restored body and mind, the sweetness of feeling in his veins health's quickening thrill. And later on, when the hour was ripe, and the invisible stage-manager was ready to use him, he was ready to take his cue. For he remembered ! The blank wall was down! » CHAPTER X. Aunt Susan lost no time in transforming Grange. She installed a superior housekeeper and kitclienmaid, and herself donned overalls and dust-cap and turned out rooms neglected through disuse, assisted by Jane Hartigan,- wuo came armed with the family vacuum cleaner. A friendship sprang up between Jane and Aunt Susan, and, of course, Miss Pettigrew had to hear the story of Eily's shattered romance. , Fair-minded Jane didn't abuse Stella. She said Miss Marquis couldn't help being beautiful aud alluring, and Eily ought to try to be reconciled to her toss Mamma was adopting Spartan treatment, openly discussing Dick's new courtship and probable marriage; for Eily was growing such a brooder" they just had to shake her out of her melancholia. If Miss Pettigrew wouldn't seem to notice Eily's moods she'd be doing her a real kindness. Dear Eily required to bo braced. Petting encouraged moping, and both were bad for her, didn't Miss Pettigrew think ? Aunt Susan, sitting on her heels varnishing a floor skirting, was at a Iqss what to reply She had an extra lame portion of her nephew's reserve, thought a great deal more than she spoke, and answered that probably Eily was well rid of' a fickle lover. To her it was patent that flirtatious Miss Marquis wanted Alan, not Dick. And unless there was an understanding between Miss Marquis and Alan, he would scarcely venture to call the wealthy daughter of a dean by her Christain name He had offered no confidences, been asked for none, but one was at liberty to gtfess. 'and guessing seemed easy. She believed Eily would- regain her normal balance when Alan married Miss Marquis and Dick was at liberty to return to his first love, steadied by the singe ing of his young wings Wide awake to the fact that Stella deliberately held Dick in bondage, Aunt Susan decided that that was entirely Alan's affair, and he alone was entitled to check it Until he told her of an engagement she would appear to see and know nothing It was her duty to shut her eyes to any thing she didn't like, and be affable to everybody, including Miss Marquis Flirt or no flirt, Stella's solid financial' stand ing made her a desirable prize for Alan to secure He saw her blunder, her satisfaction, and was grimly tickled. He would have Undeceived- her regarding the financial standing if lis promise to Stella hadn't bound turn A promise was sacred, al though keeping it necessitated the fooling of a beloved aunt. Stella should have her flutter since lie had foolishly pledged himself to silence In his gratitude lor Patsy's safe passage through the crisis i of her illness, he could he tolerant even of Stella Killyduff hastened to make Miss Pettigrew's acquaintance and invite her to its homes Having set Grange in order, she frolicked with the merriest of them, and Alan begiin to entertain, mindful uf the arrears of hospitality he owed l iis r;"ighbours The Cluny Mahons dragged tneir reluctant son to meet Aunt Susan under her kinsman's roof Miss Marquis came with the Bellamys Mrs Hartigan brought Eily to witness Dick's devotion to her supplanter as stoically as she might Finding U vain to oppose hei mother, " Brown Mouse " submitted t martyr dom, a piteous shut-in look on her colourless face From the most altruistic motives Mrs. Hartigan made the mistake of forcing the girl to close the safety valve of her emotions and sit on it—a risky thing to do. Some day the lid will blow off with dire results. "Eily needs thorough change of scene," Aqnt. Susan said to Alan " She's caged inside herself • because that hustling, practical mother of hers won't let her unburden her soul to her in private, and Eily won't speak to outsiders, so she has no relief T wish I dared advise Mrs.

Hartigan to alter her. methods, but she'd think of a biting sarcasm anent old maids' children, if she weren't sturdy enough to utter it." Knotting a silk jumper in the gable parlour one €!vemng, Aunt Susan pondered the problem of whether or not to poke a finger into other people's pie. She had had experience of girls of Eily's type—-super-sensitives calling for wise handling—and the idea of taking Eily to London and showing her that ordinary Dick wasn't the only stick in the wood dawned on her and struck root. She resolved to throw out feelers in that direction when she got Mrs. Hartigan to herself and in amiable humour. " Jane will back me," she chuckled. " Nico, sensible girl, Jane —the pick of the bunch." She plied her needles briskly, swinging her rocker to and fro and switching her thoughts to Patsy, downstairs, downstairs now, lying on a sofa all day, a little fragile, but not—it seemed to Aunt Susan —the invalid Doctor O'Dea pronounced her. Yet it was the sad truth that Patsy was unable to put foot to the ground, nor could any amount of per-, suasion tempt her to the tiniest efrort. Miss. Pettigrew had been over several times to cheer her, and had been exasperated. D'Arcy, O'Dea and Mary Brannan created such an atmosphere of desolation around "Flower of the Bog's couch that the watch-dog sensed it in his kennel, and howled. Nick confessed to a murderous desire to throttle the lugubrious trio, and Miss Pettigrew said it would be justifiable homicide. She and Nick were'much akin—dauntless and daring. Thev were dissatisfied with 0 Dea, and they nad laid their heads together and sent to London for an eminent specialist to examine and report on Patsy Aunt Susan recommended a Harley Street-physician. His fee was immense Unwilling' to come, he fancied it would be prohibitive, but his terms were accepted and he took the journey. He was Boyle's guest at Curlews for three days, and saw Patsy frequently, his manner offending her. Before he went his plain speech to Hugh D Arcy and O'Dea sent the latter into a towering rage. Bouncing into Grange, he inrveighed against popinjays, and d—d newfangled notions which- made tu penny hash of tho revered traditions of British medical science Then ho abused Boyle for subjecting him to the indignity of bringing aver an English practitioner to curl his nose at him —O'Dea—-who had fifty -years' experience to his credit. While *he raved Aunst Susan demurely counted her stitches and held her tongue. Alan soothed tho irate little man wih soft words and a generous drink, and When he had applied soothing plaster to O'Dea's wounded " amour propre," accompanied him out to start hornet ard, afterwards prowling about in the hope of ' wavlaying D'Arcy, and perhaps being asked in. That was why, on this particular evening of the specialist's departure, Aunt Susan sat solitary, awaiting her nephew's return. She heard his step in the hall as she lit the pink-shaded standard lamp. Ib had a bouyant spring. His face was brighter than she had seen it since her arrival. Leaning on the mantelpiece, he smiled at her and she at him. " Doctor O'Dea has a pain in his vanity," said she. "He has,'' laughed Alan. "It won't hurt him cruelly to be told Patsy had no more wrong with her spine than he had." -"There!" cried Aunt Suspn, triumphantly. " Didn't I tell you so, too long ago ? What else did the specialist say?" i' Ho said they'd made her believe she had, talking and lamenting in her hearing when her nervous organisation was in a highly receptive, impressionable state. Auto-suggestion did the rest. White she is convinced that she can t she simply can't. He delivered his learned mind of a lectuve on the ease wi£h which certain types may be self-hypnotised into a condition bearing a superficial resem : blance to the disease they think they have, citing the case of a woman who. persuaded that she had cancer, thought herself into the possession of an ephemeral tumorous growth. I've had the whole yarn from Boyle and D'Arcy outby. It was awfully interesting, but Greek to O'Dea, so he pooh-poohed and flew into a temper. The house yonder's in a ferment. Patsy is crying and calling the specialist a brute, and Nick is catching it hot and heavy." , . , "I'm on Nick's side when the brickbats fly." "And I on yours," Alan laughed again. " O'Dea's prating of spinal trouble is sheer tosh. He shouldn't be practising at his age. 'He was never distinguished for brilliance, anyhow, Henry Bellamy says. And he's a bit of an oddity latterly, full of whimsies." " Then we are no forrader than we were." •' "We are. Patsy can be convinced that she's able to walk, and must walk, willingly. " . ... „ "The London man didn't convince her, drylv. "*She was frightened of him, and wouldn't listen." < " Maybe she 'll listen to Mr. Boyle. "She won't. He hasn't the grit to scold Miss Patsy and make her take her nasty medicine." ' - ""Who is Agoing to, if not Boyle?

" I am." Aunt Susan gave a gasp of astonishment. "You! She's nothing to you. Are you daft?" "She's the girl I love.' " Alan! " " Auntie! " " There's Miss Marquis.' " And there's Alan Pettigrew, who hasn't a thought for Miss Marquis, gossip. notwithstanding. Dressed-up dolls don't appeal to me." " But—but does Miss D'Arcy favour you ? " - ?. " If love can win love, I'll win hers," " Which means she hasn't exactly smiled on you yet." " Not yot,-but bad happenings, often have good endings." " Well, I declare I'm nonplussed, said Aunt Susan, sitting erect and staring at her surprising nephew " She's a delightful girl, I admit, but still not your style, it seemed to me. Another thing, you mayn't be hers. ,Mr Boyle has tire advantage of you in looks and in social position How do you expect to succeed where he fails ? He's H formidable rival. Alan, my lad./' "That B for him!" Alan snapped his fingers, a twmklp in his eye. " T'm not quite-as ngly as sin, and Grange is fit tr keep the pot boiling. Granting ho has blue blood in veins, blue blood doesn't carry the weight it used to A uian s a man for a' thatf. I'd remind y<-.u. Lovma her, T'm ready to da r e anything, though I own to a trembling- of the knees at the prospect of having to ask her father foi 'Flower of the Bog. ' Doubtless you won't have to. She 11 refuse you." Yon are very uncomplimentary." \ ruffled Aunt Susan casf the iaaiper from her " I'll boil over if I lon't freely Patricia D'Arev was disgustingly rude to von. Oh. I know. There's always a little hird to whispei things I haven't visited her rndenpss on her head becanse she's loveable in suite of being spoiled, but it rankled. Alan And 1 "Inert to yonr running risks of a severer sruh T A e have onr <h,KP of honest -ir>de " He toved with an ornament on the mnnt.ptniece. his eves eravely tender as he replied ¥ I felt it more than yon, and it hasn't s»ved me from losing my heart to her. The sweetest roses have thorns Maybe thevVl be less sweet if they didn't stab us before they let tis gather them." ' Trust a man to hanker after whatever gives Him pain and bother," she reioined ' Try to gather vour rose, but don't ask me to condole with von on the conseouencps." Aunt Susari's fine face was distressed Man hpnf down and shook her nlayfullv " I won't, you female Jeremiah. And vou aren't to uttpr cheep to vonr br>som friend .lane concerning mv hones and aspirations* not to a mortal unless von have permission." " Is it T to set folks leering at you ?" she exclaimed. pul'inEr bis bond lo\rpr and kissing him, "I 'wouldn't, Alari, I wouldn't ' And T'd like von. to aid the cdrl, and win her, since you want her. But oh me' T feel in my hones that you'll wear rue."'

'To be continued daily.)