FREEDOM FOR TWO

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22968, 21 February 1938, Page 5

FREEDOM FOR TWO

By MARGARET WATSON

CHAPTER VII. ADVENTURKRS IN A FLAT Erica stood in the living-room of her flat, and drew a long breath of pleasure as she looked all round upon a vision of domesticity. Tliey had been in London for a month. There liad been a fortnight of hotel life while they amused themselves in choosing furniture, pictures, curtains, ornaments, for their homo; and now here they were, securely ensconced in a very comfortable flat, less satisfactory than a house, perhaps, because so much less suggestive of stability, but none the less unexpectedly delightful. The honeymoon was over, then; Paris was over, and Rome, and Dalgano, all the journevings and excitements, all the changes and surprises. Was it possible that, in her heart of hearts, she was glad to have all those things over? For there was certainly something in her mind which felt very like relief. She had genuinely loved every moment of her tour of Europe; it had been like a glorious dream. Yes, that was it: it seemed now no more real, no moro filling, than the stuff of dreams, whereas this commonplace little corner of London was the fabric of reality. They had spent what to her seemed the most delectable hours of her life in choosing the fittings for their home. Martin, to be sure, had chaffed a little, and been inclined to leave the selection entirely to her; but he had looked upon the finished product, and found it good. She looked round at the sunny lawnbrown room, and felt a proprietorial pride in everything in it, from Martin's piano to the green marcasite book-ends on the corner table, and the little black basalt Horus falcon on the mantelpiece. There were golden-brown cushions, the deep rich brown of leather-bound books, and upon the walls a few good copies of Meryon etchings of Paris, which they had bought together on the third day of their honeymoon. But the piano had pride of place, liko a stately household god to which all the rest of the room bowed down.

Sometimes, coming home from the im.'iccnstomed imprisonment of Jameson's office, he would launch himself upon it as if he could never have enough of music to compensate for the hours he was compelled to spend with business. On other days lie would tinkle miserably and restlessly, find no satisfaction in it. and spring up with the suggestion that they should go out somewhere, anywhere, to a theatre, or for a walk, or to look at the shops. Then she would see in his eyes the old longing burn up liko a fire, the desire to be away into the outer world. Erica had been unhappy about that look; but after all, she could not expect that Martin would be able to change his whole theory of life without some pain. He was willing to change it; lie had voluntarily assumed the responsibility which made tfio change necessary; and ho had known, he must have known from the beginning what it would cost him. She was consoled by the fact that ho never complained, that he talked business with almost the same intensity he had brought before to the discussion of adventure. Once the first strain of settling down was over, and when the

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A STORY OF LOVE THAT ENDURED THROUGH STORM AND STRESS, A LOVE THAT WAS BIG ENOUGH TO UNDERSTAND

relaxation of the expected business trips began, Martin would be happy, happier than he had ever been in those early days of his freedom. There was, after all, something aimless about a freedom which was solely for oneself; and with this new plan of life before him she did not seo how ho could chooso but be happier. Erica herself was perfectly content. Sometimes she wondered at her own happiness in what was, after all, a life almost as quiet in its way as the old life at Brandford. Was it possible that her desire for freedom had been so shallow that one excursion into the comparatively safe thrills of a European tour could satisfy it? Sho did not think it was altogether that, for she could still listen with racing blood whenever Martin became reminiscent. Was it, then, that the possession of Martin was in itself a sobering responsibility? She stood looking round her, and thinking of all these things; and was disturbed from the thoughts of them by Martin's stop on the stair. He came in almost boisterously, as if it needed some activity to shake from his shoulders the cares of his office. "Hullo, darling! What an ago since 1 saw you." Ho kissed her; ho was not, as a rule demonstrative. Occasionally, when she felt most feminine and least Erica, she had even found it in her heart to wish him a little moro so. "Look, Martin. I've changed round those two etchings. Do you liko them better that way? I thought 'Le Stryge' ought really to have the dark corner so as to get the lull effect from it." "Oh, yes, just as you liko!" It was, she was beginning to find, quito impossible to get Martin to feel strongly about property. He could admire things of beauty with a passion fully equal to her own; but that did not signify that he wished to possess them. His carelessness about such things pointed always, for her, to the old restless instinct he had to shake off all encumbrances, even the most beloved. The moment they laid hands on him his admiration changed to a sort of antagonistic dread. It frightened her; she wanted to combat it. "Hut 1 want to know what you think." "Oh, as if it matters!" he sighed impatiently. "See here, Erica, I've got tickets for a concert to-night, and they're doing the 'Eroica,' and —Why, what's the matter?" Sho asked childishly, and she knew, foolishly: "Don't you caro how your homo looks?" "Not a bit! Don't you caro to go and hoar the 'Eroica'?" That was not tho way; sho had nothing to gain and everything to lose by bringing the issue, that poor, silly, significant little issue, to a head. She sighed, and laughed; after all, it was funny that she should already have to begin consciously holding him. "1 wouldn't miss it for the world, and you know it. But my mind's so broad that I can appreciate the importance of both things." "So's mine. And you'ro quite right about 'Le Strvge.' " He looked round for it, shamelessly. "Oh, I see. Where was it hung before?" They went to their concert. With tho music round their spirits like a cloak, with their hands foolishly linked upon the arm of their seats, and their checks close together, they wore back at the beginning again, where their romance

had been created. They were happy and immediately in the most beautiful unison, it was impossible that there had ever been tho smallest shadow between them. They walked homo afterwards. There was moonlight, and it was warm for April, with a soft air which did not chill with the sun's departure. Erica slipped her hand within his arm, and | stretched her steps to match him. They walked with the cloudy presence of music still about them, but thinning a little now in the alien air of tho world. "It was glorious, wasn't it:-"' "Marvellous. Didn't it make you see pictures? It always does me. But then, i could never, from a kid, resist mixing up my senses; I always want to express 0110 art in terms of another; music iu pictures, and pictures in music, and poetry in both.". She sighed. "That's why 1 shall always think of you by 'Minstrels.' " "Because 1 seemed to you an itinerant musician of life, 1 suppose, always departing!'" "Bocnuso you didn't seem anything of tho kind," she said, with a throb at her heart, aijd a surge of panic lor his too deep understanding. "It struck mo all the more because it seemed to have nothing whatever to do with you." "Well, maybe you're right. Anyhow, we're two minstrels now, and wherever we go wo go together. What say you f So it was still there, tho thought of tho onward road! And still there sprang up in her the instinct to meet it full, and answer it as ho wanted it answered. "I say Amen!" His fingers closed upon hers with a tight pressure. "You're great. You'll never let me down, 1 know." She thought desperately: No, 1 never will, if i<i. costs mo evervthmg I've got.." . . There was a sort of peace in that thought. "We're going to have a lot pf fun at London's expense," she said. "Jhero 11 be lots of concerts like to-night s, and theatres, and all tho jolly things under the sun. I'm going to love being h °Martin said doubtfully: "That's like you, dear; 1 moan it's like you to see the nice side of everything. But. I can't help feeling that it's hardly what 1 promised you." "We went into all that before, didn t wo? You needn't worry about me, Martin. I'm satisfied to go with you; I don't ask any better." Ho was silent, but his arm hugged hers with an almost painful ptessuie. She felt suddenly that she was accepting at least tho half his lovo on false pretences. He believed that she was identifying herself with this stable existence onlv out of loyalty to him, when in reality it fitted the moasure of her desires as a glovo (its a hand. She owed hi in her lovo all tho more because of this harmless deceit. "Whatever is all right I'or you, Martin is all right for me. Phis life won't he dull. 1 don't see hot? it can. But T want you to know that whatever you want to do, I'm* oil. If Jou come home to-morrou" night and say: lack a bag Krica, wo'ro leaving for tho moon in half an hour,' I shall be ready on time." . "I wish I could," lie said, laughing, "You'd love it, wouldn't you? That s the sort of 1i 1 o tor which you re really designed." Thank goodness, though, it, couldn t really happen I Fancy being summoned at a moment's notice out of that delectable yellow and brown flat, from its music, and the Meryon etchings, and tho golden cushions, to indulge in some hare-brained adventure! But il it should happen, of course, she would have to go; she would have to go like all arrow, without an instant's hesitation, without a question, without a singlo glance of regret; because that was the only way of living up to Martin. CHAPTER VITI. " WK'liK GOING AMU) AT)!" One evening toward the end of their fourth month in .London, Martin came home, in another mood. Krica was arranging roses in a. bowl, and listening abstractedly for his com-

ing; but the moment she heard his hand at tho door she knew that something had happened. The sight of his face as she turned to meet him confirmed her instant knowledge. His eyes wore alight with something more than eagerness. "Pack up, Erica! Never mind flowers! We're going abroad." She knew then that she had been waiting for this moment, that she had been keyed up and ready for it since tho day of their homecoming. How, otherwise, could she have found the courage of deceit to cry out at once, hard on the heels of his words: "When? Tonight?" "To-morrow morning." She had a fleeting impulse to throw up the whole pose then and there, to let her resolutely smiling mouth relax into the obstinate, angry lines it was aching to assume, to say flatly that she was not going, that she did not want to go, thai she was happy where sho was. Instead, she said, crisply: "All right. L' 11 be ready. What time do we leave?" Martin swooped upon her and swept her into his arms. "Darling, you're tho most patient creature under the sun. All the while I've been wanting to bring you this opportunity, until I was beginning to believe it would never como. I've longed for it myself, too. You never complain; but confess, now, it did get rather monotonous, didn't it?"

Erica closed her eyes. What was the use? Sho had not the courage to turn back now. "Well, if you want to have everything straight—well, perhaps it did rather."

He laughed exultantly. "Well, now we're going roaming again. Not for such a very long time; maybe only for a month, and only on business, unfortunately; but still we'll have fun. And this is only the first of many trips together, 1 hope."

Erica looked round at all her household goods, and they appeared to her even lovelier than they had ever appeared before. She thought resentfully: "Fancy having to leave all this, and just as it was beginning to feel like homo!" Aloud she asked: "Where are we going?" ♦'To Stockholm." "To interview timber magnates?" "Well something like that. But you'll love the town." "And how are we going? Not by air this time?" "No —ship; so you can take whatever you like. Darling, you arc glad; aren't you ?" "Glad? Well, you bet I am!" There was no ardour lacking from that response, at any rate. She had proved to herself that sho could deceive him quite easily, though at what cost to herself she had as yet no clue. "And I've a lot of friends in Stockholm who'll lovo to meet you. And you've at least ono there yourself; -Ton Bernstorn—vou remember him?—lives on one of the islands off the harbour." "Does he?" said Erica. Sho had almost forgotten him. "And you'll adore the town. It's built on hundreds of islands with bridges iu between; and you shall go tip and down on little steamers instead of buses, and walk in the Doer Park, and explore all tho museums. I promise it. I'll take you to sec the shirt Gustavus Ado 1 phus wore at Lutzon. ANe'll sail all over Lake Malar. We'll have a glorious time." "What about your business?" asked Erica drily. • "That won't occupy me all tho time, I. hope." • i i • "I suppose not!" she sighed in agreement; she could not help laughing at his eagerness. But in her heart she did not want either tho Deer Bark, or Lake Malar, or the shirt of Gustavus Ulolphus. Thov were all very well in their way; but sho wanted rather to go ou with her singing lessons, and arrange about the new curtains, and decide how to accommodate the overflow of books which as yet had no home. However, she had chosen her part, once for all. Sho went with Martin to Stockholm. P9IUIUUO3 OJj)