THE TENANT OF CROMLECH COTTAGE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIV, Issue 19659, 10 June 1927, Page 18

THE TENANT OF CROMLECH COTTAGE.

BY. JOSEPH HOCKING.

CHAPTER Vlll.—(Continued). Ifc was Saturday evening and they were sitting in the dining hall of the Pendragon House. For the last half hour they had been served with costly and perfectly prepared viands. Servants had deftly and noiselessly attended to their every need, while every appointment of the house proclaimed wealth and luxury. " Of course," went on Mrs. Moss, " 1 tras toid what it would be before I became ft clergyman's wife, and my people did their best to dissuade me. Still, if they hadn't made me a liberal allowance, where should I be ? " Where you are now, and as happy ss a queen," laughed the vicar. " Mrs. Moss introduces a very trite, but very interesting subject," interposed Gwithian, who pitied tho vicar. Does happiness depend upon wealth ? For example, who are the happiest people in this country ? Are they the people who live in big houses and have all that money can buy, or are they the working people ? Does happiness depend upon circumstances ? " " No," replied the vicar. " Certainly," contradicted the vicar s wife. " I maintain that tho very fact of living in a house like this, with all that such a place means, must bring happiness. I know it isn t a fair question to ask Mrs. Pendragon," persisted that lady; " but tell us now, doesn't it? Gwithian involuntarily shot a quick glance at bis hostess, and could not help being impressed by what lie saw. A look of pain, and more than pain, swept over her features. Her thin lips became compressed, and her closely placed eyes expressed something far from pleasant. In spite of himself ho could not help thinking of the story Doctor Borlase had told him. But it was only for a moment. A second later the smile with which she had first greeted him came back to her lips, and her features wtro perfectly controlled. "In a sense I think Mrs. Moss is right," eho said; "all the same, I don't think she is altogether right. Wealth has as many cares as poverty has. Nature has a cruel way of giving with ono .hand and taking away with the other." " Was it nQt Emerson who wrote _ an article on Compensation ?" asked Gwithian. "Did ho not say that Provindence had so arranged matters for us, and so ordered things, that on tho whole the poor were quite as happy as tho rich ? Doubtless, wealth might and did bring comfort; but happiness, ho insisted, was another matte?." "And ho was right!" The words escaped Mrs. Pendragon's lips almost like a gasp, and were spoken with such tensity that Gwithian could not help again glancing at her. He felt sure that this was not a happy woman. " Give me neither poverty nor riches," quoted the vicar. " Give me cash, and plenty of it," said Harold Trounce, speaking for £he first time. "If you were to ask me what was the most unpleasant thing in life, I should reply—' to bo hard up.' lam beastly hard up now," he added whimsically. " I should like to be hard up the same way," replied Mrs. Moss. " Oh, I know what I am talking about. When I was at home there was never the slightest need to trouble about money, and I am sure I was happier then than I am now." " That's not a very nice compliment to mo. my dear," smiled the vicar. " You know what I mean. It's sordid, jnst awfully sordid to be always obliged to think and to scheme how you can get the common decencies of life " " I don't think it is as sordid as to ho vulgarly rich," rejoined Marjorie. " When I was at school, I knew a girl whose father was a profiteer; sho 'had heaps and heaps of money to spend, and certainly she was tho most unpopular girl in tho school. Her money seemed to earrv a kind of curse with it." "I think you are right," said the vicar, who was spoken of as a radical. " These profiteers made their money by robbing others, and all money robbed from others brings a curse." Again Gwithian involuntarily glanced at his hostess' face, but his glance told him nothing. She was perfecily calm and self-possessed. Her features betrayed no emotion whatever. Of course, Borlase was wrong," Gwithian reflected. " That story had no foundation in fact. She could not be a party to robbing anyone." But lie was not sure. Ho caught himself thinking again, as he had often thought since the doctor's visit, of the boy and girl who were the natural inheritors of this fine old mansion. To say the least of it, it was strange that their names had never been mentioned in the will. Again he reflected on what Roger Pendragon, when on his deathbed, had whispered in the doctor's ear. " I have made a will, Borlase; Trefry draw it up, and I have left practically everything to Roger and Karenza. Of course, I have provided for my wife, but at her death everything goes, to them." To say the least of it, it was all very strange, and try as ho 'might ho could not forget the pleading words of the children. Where were they now, he wondered ? Was young Roger killed in the war as the doctor had said ? And had the girl Karenza married some one and gone t® live in Scotland ? Ho glanced at Mrs. Pendragon again, and as he noted tho look in her eyes he wondered. She was a handsome woman, and mado a perfect hostess, but her thin lips might suggest cruelty. Then ho reflected on the doctor's story again. Of course, cases were common whereby undue influence had been brought upon testators, and wills had been made which were utterly unfair. But he would think no more about it; he was there as the guest of the owner, and it would be wrong to entertain unjust thoughts. " Would you like to see over the house, Mr. Trewithen ?" asked Mrs. Pendragon, as. on leaving the dining hall, Gwithian held tho door for her. " I should love it," cried the young man. " It. seems a regular store-house of art." | " Yes, my late husband's father was a collector," she replied, " and he got some very rare things together. Shall we say in ten minutes? You will have finished yevur cigarettes by then." " And I am coming with you, mother," cried Marjorie, who stood near. " I want you to give your opinion on my Chinese vases, Mr. Trewithen. I am sure you are a judge of such things," and she gave him a ravishing smile as she passed from the room. An hour later Gwithian had mado a tour of the house with Mrs. Pendragon as his guide. True to her word, Marjoriehad accompanied them for part of tho time, but had presently left them together. Mrs. Moss had refused to go; it would make her break the Tenth Commandment, she had declared. When they were left alone, Mrs. Pendragon's manner toward him changed. Sho no longer talked freely about the houso, its history and its contents; but became silent, and a look which Gwithian not understand settled upon her "Do you like Pendragon?" sho asked * suddenly. much," he replied. . , , course, you know you are a subject. tor gossip ? 1 be* h fU , be ™ tO H S °- Bnt Wh y should Ibe ? Of course, I have gone to live in a house which is supposed to be haunted " ih-i \XrT \xaltogether. I could see Mis Moss was longing to ask why >ou, a bachelor, should come to an out-of-the-way parish like this. Of course, there is hunting in the district, and golf a few miles away," and then she looked at him questioningly. " I can hardly explain why I came," Gwithian informed her. Ho thought she was anxious to know all about him before extending further hospitality. " I am a mining engineer by profession, and icar tho last two years ! Lava been in

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Africa. I suppose some would say 1 was rather fortunate; anyhow, as there was no need for me to continue working, and I saw a vary attractive advertisement of Cromlech Cottage, I was drawn toward it. You see," he added, " I hate city life, and I love country life. That's about all." " And you had no special reason for cording to Pendragon V "Not the slightest; never knew there was such a place until a few weeks ago." " And do you anticipate staying here long?" " I have taken Cromlech Cottage for a year with an option to buy it. Possibly I may; I don't know." " Harold and Marjorie are awfully glad you have come," she volunteered. "You see, there are very few young people of their own order near by, and they look upon you as a godsend. I hope you like Harold." " He seems a fine, frank young fellow, ; and I hope I shall know him better." " I hope you will," she assented. "He seems to have fallen in love with you—" She seemed to be about to say more, and then restrained herself. | " I think we have seen all now, Mr. Trewithen," she went on, "and I want you to hear Marjorie sing. Like all mothers, I suppose I am unduly vain about my children; but I really think she has a fine voice." " I shall be delighted to have the opportunity," he replied. " There are two things I am really fond of in this world. One is music, and the other is reading." "You sing yourself, perhaps?" " 1 wish I did ; but as a matter of fact I have no knowledge of music whatever. I simply love it, that's all. As for reading, I have practically got to the end of the parcel of books I had sent from Mudie's. I shall have to get a fresh stock." " I must, lend you some," she volunteered. "And that retpinds me, we haven't been into the librwy yet. We must go there before you leave." Mrs. Pendragon had not exaggerated when she told him that Marjorie had a fine voice: she had. It was not often ho had heard an amateur sing so well. Moreover, she was very frank and natural about her accomplishment. She sang willingly, sang because she loved it, and before long Gwithian found himself watching the girl's face and listening to her voice with more than usual interest. More than once he asked himself why had ho forgotten the stockbroker's daughter so easily. Not long before he had felt that her loss was something from which he would never recover, and now she had nearly passed out of his mind. Marjorie Trounce was intelligent, too; she was more than intelligent; she was fascinating, and looked a fitting mistress for Pendragon Hall. " Well, every good thing must come to an end," remarked the vicar presently, " and it's Sunday to-morrow, so I must be gettring home. Yes, I saw the book you mentioned in the library the last time I was here," and he turned to Gwithian. " Shall I find it for him, Mrs. Pendragon ?" _ A second later he found himself in the library, accompanied by the vicar and Harold. It was a fine room, containing several thousand volumes. In fact the walls were completely lined with bookcases, except the one at the end where tho fireplace stood. By the way," said the vicar, nodding to a picture which hung over the mantelpiece; "that is the late Mr. Roger Pendragon." He switched on am electric light, which had been so arranged that it fell directly on the portrait. A second later Gwithian felt that his head was reeling, that the whole room was rocking around him. It was well that the Ryes of the other two men wore also fixed on the painting, or they would have seen that on his face which would have set them wondering. The face he saw on the wall was, feature by feature, the face of the man ho had seen in his dream (or whatever it might be), on the night after he had visited the old church and stood by the Pendragon vault. But he did not speak; he could not. He was too stunned, too bewildered. His senses seemed, to be leaving him, everything in the room was unreal, unnatural. He felt afraid, too; there was something awesome, fearful, in the thought that the features of the man he had seen in his vision were outlined to the minutest detail in the picture on the wall. " I must be taking leave of my sense," he said to himself. " This is madness, a wild phantasmagoria of the mind." And yet it stood there plain and distinct. Every feature was lit up by the electric arrangement, while close by his side stood the vicar and Harold Trounce. " It's supposed to bo a fine painting," said the vicar; " one of Roberto's finest. But I can't speak authoritatively, as I never saw tho gentleman.'' " Yes," assented Harold, " it's a fine portrait. It was painted about two years before my stepfather djed. I was only . fourteen at the time but I remember him well.. It's exactly like him." Gwithian drew nearer tho picture, as if to inspect it more closely. His head whirled with excitement, but he made no remark; he felt incapable of speech. His thoughts were a whirlpool. Ho had never seen Roger Pendragon, had not the slightest conception of the kind | of man he was, and yet the picture before him might have been painted from what he had seen standing by the Pendragon vault. "You seem greatly interested, Mr. Trewithen," said the vicar; " you didn't know him, did you ? But of course you didn't. How could you ?" ! He had so far regained his self-control by this time that lie was able to think more coherently. " No, I never knew him," he replied, and his voice sounded to him like something echoing far away. " But lam interested." Then he gave a little gasp, for he caught sight of the ring, the curiously shaped ring, which he had seen in his vision and which v.-as reproduced in tho painting. " You will come again soon, won't you ?" asked Marjorie as she bade him good-night. " It's been just lovely to have you here." * " You are awfully kind," replied Gwithian. " And you must invite me to Cromlech Cottage. l'on promisee], you know. Didn't he, Harold'! If you don't ask me I shall come without an invitation." " You mustn't pay any attention to this silly child," remarked Mrs. Pendragon. " She doesn't say much for my upbringing, does she ?" " Now, Mr. Trewithen, be careful not to give me away," laughed the girl. " Don't you think I was brought up perfectly ?" "Exactly as you ought to have been," ho replied. "Of course you must come to see me; and I hope Sirs. Pefodragon will come, too." " Then fix tho date soon, I am just longing to see your lovely cottage. And don't forget about the driving lessons." (To bo continued daily.)