THE WOMAN IN THE DOORWAY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20302, 9 July 1929, Page 3

THE WOMAN IN THE DOORWAY.

A SHORT STORY.

BY F. TH. W. BROOME

Elizabeth lifted her head and listened intently. Tho wind and the sea were striving to outroar each other,, and tho awirl of tho water at tho base of tho cliffs ended in a scream as tho waves dashed with increasing fierceness into the bay. Her lillie cottage, which stood on I lie headland, shook once or twice with the rough blasts, but no look of fear \ crossed her face, and I hough anxiety was j visible, iv, was not for herself. . Her fine ear caught some sound with- ' out, for she hurried to the inner room 1 and brought forth a lantern, and having lighted the candle, proceeded to unfasten . the iron clamps of the solid oak door, j which opened direct from the pathway j into her sitting-room. It took all her i strength not to be hurled back by the ! weight of the door as it was thrust inward by the gale; but, having opened it to ils ; full stretch, she planted her feet firmly j and held tho lantern aloft. A shout fled past 011 the wind, and a look of disappointment and surprise crossed her face. A few minutes later a middle-aged man . in Norfolk suit and gaiters stood iri tho little circle of light cast by tho lantern and removing his cloth cap, wiped his j face with a rueful laugh. ] " Why, squire, what brings yon hero ! on such a night ? There's nothing wrong at tho Hall, I hope?" " Madam's in one of her tantrums, and nothing will do but that I must, fetch you to spend the. night. Will you come in this gale ?" Ho was shutting tho door as he spoke for the noise of the storm precluded conversation. " Of course I will come. Catherine is ] not, afraid—she has lived on these cliffs j all her life. What has upset Mrs. Heath- j cote—any news?" j " Yes—Humphrey's on his way back, ! and, of course, she's quite sure his ship j lis to be lost in tho storm. For her sake J I shall be glad when he givea up the sea, ] but God knows when he'll do that, since ! l it depends on a woman. YouH stick to ! your obstinacy too long, my dear, and then j you'll spend the rest of your liia regretting." , I " I'll go and dress," she said briefly, I and loft the room*. An old woman in cap and kerchief entered with a spirit; case and hot water, and tho Squire mixed himself a jorum, which he sipped reflectively while gazing around him. On her father's death, three yearu ago, Elizabeth Trelawny, finding the estate heavily encumbered, resolved to nurse it back to prosperity during the long minority of her only brother—a small lad at Eton, and, at the risk of being thought eccentric by her friends, she had established herself in an unused coastguard's cottage on the cliff. It was a long distance from her old homo, and beyond the Hall there was not a gentleman's estate for miles round, tho rural population consisting entirely of farmers and fisher-folk. During the three years Elizabeth had becomo closely intimato with the family at the Hall, and indeed was regarded as a daughter of the house, and only her own firm will prevented tho pleasant fiction from becoming fact. But Elizabeth, twenty-eight and beautiful, with society ready to welcome her with opon arms on account, of her family and connections, had taken herself seriously and found herself out of tune with the modern ethics of the big world. She was a deeply religious woman, striving after a high ideal of duty, and life on these seabound cliffs had enlarged, not curtailed her mental vision. Humphrey, the only son of Squire Heathcoto and his wife, bad fallen deepiy in love with Elizabeth the first time he came homo from sea after her arrival, but though she never made any pretence to hide her affection for him, the discovery that he was a freethinker and considered religion and churchgoing " a proper and respectable tiling for women and children," had effectually cut short his hopes of making her his wife. In vain his parents had urged the threadbare argument that reformation would follow on the heels of matrimony. In vain the two fashionable married daughters came from London to plead their brother's cause. Shut in the drawing-room with the three ladies, Elizabeth turned at bay, and the pressure rending aside the curtain of her faith and of her love left her listeners mute before a nature greater than their own. Humphrey, a man of thirty-seven, masterful and dominant, accustomed to have his own way ever since, at ten years old, he had hacked out the lock of the stable-door with the fuel hatchet and had bridled and ridden off on his father's hunting mare, forbidden him on account of her vicious temper, did not put up easily with her refusal. Eager for adventure, after four or five years in the Navy, he and a friend had invested in a commercial " tramp " steamer, and they went hither and thither 011 mysterious voyages fraught with speculation and occasionally danger, as for instance, when from a German firm of manufacturers they took a cargo of thirty piano cases out to the Argentine Republic a month before tho outbreak of tho fifteenth revolution. The cases contained music of too ear-split-ing -a nature to bo compatible with welltuned piano strings, but Humphrey and his friend returned in high spirits, having made what they were pleased to call a " pot" on that memorable occasion, and having experienced sufficient adventure to satisfy even their ardent spirits. Latterly Mrs. Heathcote had been in bad health, consequent on nervous breakdown, and her son had promised to leave the sea and settle down at tho Hall directly Elizabeth should change her mind and consent to marry him. Each time be came home his first object was to see Elizabeth, and early or late, whatever the weather, he would stride up the cliff in his old masterful way, and Elizabeth, hearing the pebbles fly under his feet, would come forth and stand in tho doorway, her heart beating a wild surrender, her face a mask, ;is with steadfast eyes she met his urgent plearli«<x his hot resistance to her will, his wrathful outbreak against her icy indifference; and he would go striding down the hill, vowing to forget, to seek an easier love elsewhere; never looking back, and she. her feigned coldness scattered to the winds, would hurry to her chamWr and there wrestle, with her grief with bitter tears. He fold her once, laughing, that lie was haunted by Ihe vision of a woman in a doorwav. On the last occasion of his return lie bad spent two months at, the Hall, and in the lovely autumn weather he and Elizabeth hail been thrown much together, as Mrs. Heathcote had been 'unusually ailing, and no one could cheer lor nurse her so well as the beautiful 1 serene-eyed woman she longed to call ! daughter. Once or twice Humphrey, I catching a new expression in Elizabeth s 'face, was tempted to hope anow; she was I easier to move than formerly; his sudden approach if ho leant over while she was singing tho quaint old ballads his father loved, after dinner i" the shadowy lowceilinged drawing-room, the soft laces on her bosom woi'ld flutter as they nad never done before. Once <rr twice she hid broken down with the excuse that" she could not remember." Humphrey could have sworn it was bis presence which troubled her serenity, but there was something in her calm eyes which kept him at a greater distance than any stern-voiced prohibitions could have done, and ho ! chafed himself into stronger pasiiion as he looked at, her in her slender womanly grace, so delicately feminine, yet so adamantine in her resislanco to his uncurbed will. Elizabeth returned to tho hitlo room cloaked and hooded and the Squire carried her off in triumph. They bad a hard battle with the January wind before they reached the Hall, and the sheltered quiet of tho old low drawing-room. They found poor Mrs. Heathcote pacing up and down with her fingers in her enrs. Never had she been so difficult to soothe, and more than once Elizabeth found herself facing the fact thai, humanity might compel her to surrender where principle bade her stand firm.

(COPYRIGHT.)

" Ho wrote to say he would be here on the sixteenth and that is the day after to-morrow," cried the mother over and over again! " lie must bo in this 6torm and how can that little packet boat of theirs live i:i such a gale. He would never have persisted in this life of foolish private adventure if it had not been for your hard heartedness, Elizabeth. You are cruel, cruel!" The firm lips trembled, and the wliite hands shook a little as they arranged the cushions behind the speaker.- Tho storm had lasted eighteen hours and the strain had been heavy. If Humphrey had suddenly entered tho room and opened his arms, Elizabeth kne'y she must have gone straight to her 1 over's heart without a word. But sho was spared so great a trial, and after all, their fears were wasted had they but known it, for Humphrey was snugly housed in an old-fashioned inn at Bristol, with the "tramp" safely anchored in the harbour, and though there was dirty weather outside he never know till tho morning paper brought him the news of tho north-west coast. Otherwise lie would have sent a re-assur-ing telegram, for he possessed Ihe true Hcathcotc nature of strong passions and tender heart and he would have spared his mother's anxiety. He was determined to end the matter Elizaboth this time, and defy fate and woman to spoil bis life; but in spite of his sturdy scorn, Humphrey Heathcote knew he bad loved for tho first and last time in his life. , " « • Not. at the door but quietly knitting at her fireside he found her three days later in a mood which puzzled him, and to which he had 110 key. " You knew 1 was coming, he said taking the big arm-chair facing hers. '■ I missed you on the look-out. There was no small talk between these two. She knitted with feverish haste, but her brow was tranquil and he, looking with a man's densiti/at her face, missed the clear message of those harrying fingers. „ •• Yes, I knew you were coming. brie raised her eyes and met his gaze. He rose abruptly and took a couple of tarns before be spoke again. " Look here, Elizabeth, I have determined to give up the oea, and if yon won't marry me I shall settle out in Australia or America and waste no time about it. I can't live at the Hall eating my heart out for a woman, and I have beeu my own master 100 long to bear the quiet life with the old people. It lies with you to make me ar. exile or the happiest man on God s Ca ghe flung out her hands in a sudden despairing gesture. On God's earth! Yon own the earth is His, yet you refuse Him homage. Oh, Humphrey, "how can you say you don't believe in God?" . "Oh, of course, I believo in a God; everyone believes more or less ;n a God. The very way we all say 'My God and for God's sake* proves that. Someone s up above there, but who, or what, don t ask me to explain." She shuddered. " I suppose that's something to be grateful for. but to me it seems almost worse than disbelief!" "Then, you won't?" "No, I won't;" she had risen and leant again-1 the mantel facing him. " Yet you care?" "Yes, I have never pretended not to caro for you. I am no coquette, Humphrey. and I shall care for you to tho end of my days, but I will never marry you. I will never give my children an infidel for a father." He drew a long breath and turned toward the door, suddenly checked himself and came to her with outstretched arms and deep yearning in his eyes. ~"Kiss me at least before I go." " No." " You did once." "Yes, and I have regretted it bitterly ever since. Owning frankly I loved you, I let vou kiss me. You shook my soul with your kisses. I have never felt clean I since. How could you dare, with your man's knowledge, to make me feel so; to plunge me to the depths of passion for one brief moment in your seifish outburst, knowing I would not marry you; knowing that I kissed yon in all innocencß and ignorance because I loved you. I can plead innocence and ignorance no longer for that day taught be what passion was and showed me my own danger. No, I love you Humphrey, but I will never kiss vou willingly ajjain." A dark flush rose in his sunburnt face. " Well. I'll go," lie said hastily, moving to the door; " you have tho deuce's own knack of tantalising a fellow. You certainly are no prude; with all your religion it has taught you no canting hypocrisy, but your plain English upsets my applecart." Ho looked savage for a moment. " I'or two pins I'd kiss you into common sense." She looked fearlessly into his eye and suddenly smiled a sweet, sad smile. " I know you better than you know yourself, my Humphrey. Go away.; You j have enough on your conscience without adding to it. Good-bye." Ho "looked at her with dumb pleading for a long minute, then without a word, left tho house shutting the door , behind him. Later the Squire came to say his son had started for Australia in spito of all opposition, and Mrs. Heathcote had taken to her bed in a fit of heartbroken despair. Weeks passed, nothing was heard of the traveller; storms raged, unusual even for that season and Elizabeth, worn and haggard by her torturing anxiety was denied tho comfort of nursing his mother who refused to sec her. One day, early in March, Elizabeth was possessed with a wild unrest and a sense of impending fate which left, her with shattered nerves and an incapacity for settling to any occupation. Tho darken- : ing twilight found her at her door, lookI ing over the seething waste of waters as if she would wrest from them the secret lof her lover's fate. A sound of footsteps pressing heavily, doggedly up the cliff made her listen'acutely with paling cheek. A sudden unaccountable fear drove her back trembling till sho sank into a chair, her eyes fixed 011 the open portal. Tho light was obscured. A man stood on the threshold.. "Humphrey!" "Elizabeth, lie kind to me to-night." Sho could not speak. He repeated in the same low monotone. ' Elizabeth, be kind to me, to-night." " Bub you'ro changed—what is it?" " Wc were through a bad storm, our unglines smashed, our masts overboard, death staring us in the face. For tlio first time in my life I knew fear. I was afraid as a little child. There, in that, hideous hour I found your God. Humbly, J'como to you. Teach me; tell mo what to do. Give Him to mo, Elizabeth.". It was sho who opened her arms; sho who looked at him with lovo's glorious light shining in her soft eyes; sho who j cried. | "Humphrey! My husband!" and the j strong man, running to those tender arms, [ knelt at her feet and sobbed upon her bosom.