UNREST

Sun (Christchurch), Volume VII, Issue 2144, 29 December 1920, Page 4

UNREST

jIgsHSHmsHSKHS By WARWICK DEEPING

Author of "Marriage by Conquest," "The King Behind the King," "JThe House of Spies," "The Bust of Rome," "Mad Barbara," etc.

r CHAPTER XXX.—(Continued.) He glanced at her still face, and Understood that she cared very deeply. "I'll give you my view, it occurs to me that someone is so bitterly ashamed that he keeps silent and out of sight. It's the only logical conelusion I draw on the facts." He saw her eyes brighten a little. "But sometimes we are hated, because we are in the way, or because we are supposed to be in the right." "My dear, I look at this business in a different light. Martin is no fool. Do you think the sort of life he has been leading will satisfy him for long? I know something of men, and I tell tou a man turns in loathing from such & life; it is only a question of time. If the wife has not been a poop or a »hrew she has him at her mercy. I'm BO prophet, but I believe that when

steeped in a splendour of yellow sunlight, vivid and still. Vesuvius was sending up wisps of blue vapour. The houses crowded together upon the hillside caught the streaming light from the west. Naples stood' transfigured.

For a moment the city seemed to deserve some of the fabulous nonsense

that has been written concerning her. A Greek cleanliness and beauty flitted to her out of the past. Frensham had been exploring along the road that leads round the headland of Posilipo. He came back past the fisherman's beach and along the Via

Caracciolo, walking close to the sea. The rather wind-worn trees in.the Villa Xazionale were in a restful mood. The

gardens had lost their disappointing dustiness; the evening light was kind to a woman who is not without blemishes, they found themselves (iainted with flattering softness. Frensham walked with a slight stoop, his hands thrust into his trouser pockets, ■m attitude that was wholly English, in that he looked bored when he happened

Someone has climbed out of his madness he will be one of the most miserable men on earth." "But then, he may hate me." "Some men might, the meaner sort -of man. Martin won't." "1 have struggled to believe that." "Believe it. Hold out; don't surrender. You have done one of the finest things I have ever come across in this ■world. Do you imagine that Martin Won't be moved by it? He will want to kill himself. That's uiy view.'? She sighed. "Then I will not give up—yet. The One thing I have fought against is bitterness. It is so easy to be bitter." "So easy—and so fatal! What are the things that live in history, the human touches that we all love? " Why, those fine bits of magnanimity, those splendid forgivenesses, those heroic selfsacrifices, those touching, human happenings that bring tears into the eyes of a grown man. Children that we are, we love romance, demand it, create it. We are idealists, human idealists, in spite of ourselves. Fine deeds still eoiint."

to be thinking. A few urchins playing on the pavement hailed him as "Americano," and shouted for soldi. He went by them as though he was unaware of their existence, and the urchins jeered at his irresponsive back. An itinerant vendor of coral made a diagonal advance across the roadway and tackled the foreigner, holding an imitation coral necklace suspended on two grubby fingers. "Ver cheap, meester." He followed Frensham, refusing to be rebuffed. "Feeve francs, ver cheap. Ze Eenglish lady be pleased." .Frensham gave him a queer look, and stalked on, leaving the fellow still ; babbling. * i Yet this trivial incident was but one

of a multitude of happenings that had

worn a definite trackway into Frensham 's mind. He had but one response to every stimulus that reached him. Every vibration set the same set of notes sounding. . , An old habit had reasserted itself. His first impulse had been to wonder whether Nelja cared for coral, whether he should buy something from the fellow. He had always taken some small present home to her when he had been away alone. Then Frensham had remembered the facts, and had given the seller of coral that queer, ironic look. For he had begun to. treat himself with irony; to utter sharp, wise sayings' that were like the blows of a flagellant's scourge. A fortnight's loneliness had made him sane, so sane that the astonished scorn with which he viewed himself boasted a merciless sincerity. He had come out of the heat of a noon madness into the clean, cool fragrance of a dew-refreshed twilight.

He stood up, and walked about the room. "Yes, give him a little longer. That is what has been so splendid in you, your sportsmanship. Men appreciate that spirit. You haven't rushed into selfish protests; and yet I suppose some people will say that you had cheapened your pride. AVhat eternal nonsense! Life is a silly scramble for most of the little people, because they believe that they must scramble and shout in the Cause of self-assertion. Oh, yes, Martin Frensham will understand." He came and stood close to her chair. "Well, good-bye. I will carry on here, and I shall be proud to do.it." "You don't know how you have helped me."

"I have given you a man's view, nothing more.'' It was a day of sudden splashes of pale sunlight upon the dull green of the downs, and upon the greyness of the sea. There were clefts in the clouds, through which blue sky showed. Now and again a cold pelt of rain dimmed the landscape with a silver veil, and the wind blowing in the tree tops made a gusty and restless roaring. Trix Mirlees quivered with an adventurous delight in life. She was going out of England, going, south for her first sight of new countries; their imagined strangeness called to her. Everything seemed vital, fascinating, even the thought of a rough Channel passage, and tire bustle and flurry of catching trains. Things moved. They did not stand still in the mud and the Tain and the greyness, and let the ■wind blow by them. But she chastened her excitement; «he had the sense to do that, with Delia sitting opposite her and staring vaguely and sadly out of the window. Trix Mirlees was ripening. Sympathy was sweetening the raw fruit. "I'll see after everything. Nella." "There is only the hand luggage, flear.''

As Frensham neared the Lago Vittoria he found himself walking about 20 paces behind a shortish, thick-set man wearing a green hat perched at a certain distinctive angle. Frensham's eyes fell into a stare. That figure ahead of him was aggressively familiar. There was no mistaking the brisk, combative walk, the way that cane was held gripped in the left hand, the slight swing of the shoulders. Even that green hat with the brim turned down over a crop of wiry grey hair would have betrayed itself in a crowd. It was a very mature, well-worn hat that had been flung unceremoniously into all sorts of odd corners, a comfortable and unpretentious hat that adapted ffself to its master's temper. i Frensham 's surprise prompted him to take risks. He quickened his pace, and drew nearer, meaning to face about directly he had satisfied an emotional curiosity, but the man ahead of him was using the sea front as a sentry uses a parade ground. He had reached the end of the Villa Nazionale, and he came round on his heel with an abruptness that caught Frensham unprepared. The climax was unavoidable.

"All right. T say, <lo we run right along the harbour?" "Yes, yon have only to call one of the boat porters, give him the bags, Bnd take his number." "Hallo, we're getting there. Shall you go below!" '' Yes.'' "It's going to be jolly rough. It's my business to mother you. This is my affair." The boat train glided along the greystoned quay, with the wind howling over the great breakwater and . the Be& buffeting it and sending up a froth of spray. Trix Mirlees was all adventurous efficiency. She collected bags, Tugs, and cushions, supremely satisfied "with life and the responsibilities that she had chosen.She was one of the first to seize her porter. "Take all the things down to the ladies' cabin, and get two good berths." "Yes, miss." "What's your "number?" "Seventeen, miss." "Right 'o. Come along, dear." Trix preceded her down the gangway. "Would you like to stay on deck for a bit while I go and look after the man with the luggage?" "Yes, I think I will." . "All right. I'll come up and fetch

"Hallo! Well, I'm " Magnus Brough 's eyes stared like the eyes of a dog. He frowned, seemed to hesitate, and then held out a 'hand. "Funny thing meeting you here." •I thought I recognised that square back of yours." Frensham was iron cold, rigid. Old Brough's eyes did not spare him. "Turn back with me. I'm at the Savoy.'' "All right." "I came here on business; boat from Genoa. Where have you been — Egypt?" "No, running'about Italy. I came on from Rome three weeks ago." B ' So they walked westwards together with the evening light full upon their faces. The headland of Posilipo was a mass- of black marble, with a golden sky throwing trees and houses into sharp relief. *ln the zenith the sky had deepened to an intense blue. Ischia was losing its purple mystery, and the Sorrento coast had begun to melt into the coming night. "What an evening! No one notices that NapleK is wearing a shabby dress." "No." "And yet I can never get an affection for Naples. Give me that bit of coast between Spezia and Genoa. I've hail a record olive crop this year." '' Have you? '' "First rate." It was Frensham who remained rigidly formal, and wholly on the defensive. Magnus Brough was more than his normal self. He seemed to be imbued with

you." Nella stood by the rail and looked across the grey ami ruffled water of the harbour, and up at the green landward slopes touched here and there with transient sunlight. She was thinking of that first winter crossing when she and Freusham had gone south together into new worlds of colour and sunlight and romance. Each year this grey gate of England had opened to let, them through, two happy comrades to whom life had seemed sure and pleasant. She reniemliered his good temper, his kindness, his affectionate thoughtfillness, the way lie had looked after her comforts, and these memories gave her a sense of choking :j1 the throat. She felt desperately lonely; life seemed emptied of all desire. A year ago he had been wrapping her rug round her, anil teasing her with that playful tenderness of hi". How had if all happened? How had she managed 1o lose himt Why had he left, her so cruelly humiliated, lonely, witii a heart that ached and ceased to hope? There were tears in her eyes. The cliffs and the harbour grew dim and blurred. She held fo the rail with both hands, trying to smother the quivering anguish in her throat. CHAPTER XXXT. The headland of I'osilipo rose black against a reddened sky, and ischia floated like a great purple cloud on the deeper purple of the sea. All that enchanted coast where Sorrento lies had drawn strangely near aeiosn«Hhe bay,

a superhuman sagacity. "At first he asked no direct questions, betrayed no curiosity, but talked to Frensham as though they were the friends of a year ago, as though nothing questionable had happened. He appeared bent on Ignoring Frensham's grim reserve. Nella's husband was not going to hold him at arm's length. "Staying much longer here?" "I haven't made up my mind yet." "Why not come and dine with mc at the Savoy? That's to say, if you are alone." Frensham's eyes looked into the distance, e " 1 'm alone." "That's good news." Neither of them spoke foT a while. Their personalities were in silent conflict, but Magnus Brough was not to be repulsed. He began to press to close quarters.

when he heard Frensham turn back after him. "I say, Magnus." "Yes." "Is she really ill—is it serious?" Old Brough's face twitched. "Well—yes. A doctor might not give it a name, but I can." "Tell me." "I think you are breaking her heart, my friend, just that." Frensham stood motionless, arms hanging limply, his eyes fixed on the ground. "What a cad I have been, Magnus. I think I'll come in with you." "That's better." Frensham and Magnus Brough dined together at a little table in a far corner of the dining-room. It was not a conversational meal. A party of Neapolitan musicians who went from hotel to hotel with violins and mandolins came in and made music.—light, irresponsible music that mingled itself with the strenuous chattering of a crowd of Spaniards who had arrived that day by I boat.

"Are you going back in the spring, Martin-?" "Where?" "Home." His voice, grew suddenly kinder, but Frensham's face looked bleak and set. "Are we at cross purposes, Brough?" "I think not. I know what happened." "I suppose everybody knows that!" His irony set Brough's eyes glittering. 'Oh, do they! Then it is your own fault, Martin. You may have given yourself away, but she has stood by you through thick and thin." "What d'you mean?" "Why, that she covered it all up—for your sake; pretended that you had been sent abroad for your health. Not a soul knows but old Vandeleur, myself, and one or two more. Stillthat's your affair. Very few women would have borne so much for a man, and borne it in silence." .

"We get this twice a week, Martin. After dinner those ladies will dance the tarantella, and sing you songs with voices that will remind you of the tearing of calico; What, about a cigar and a stroll along the front?" "I'm with you." "The bay is worth seeing at night." The stars were out, the sea very still, and across the bay hundreds of lights twinkled. A vetturino drove after them as they left the hotel, and began to follow them along the Via Caracciolo, cracking his whip, preposterously importunate after the fashion of Neapolitans. "What fools these fellows are! They never learn that an Englishman's 'No' means no."

Frensham's face had flushed like a boy's.

Brough turned on the carriage driver, and some fluent Italian.

"Is this any business of yours, Brough?" J

"I'm your friend, my dear chap. Besides—good Lord, I've done a mad thing or two in my time. I'm not preaching." He patted Frensham's shoulder.

"Confound it, man, haven't yoi: been through hell? I guess you have. 1 've been there myself before now. Nella is at San Stefanb." Frensham winced. "She's there!" "Yes. And she's ill."

Perhaps he had played for that touch, though he was telling Martin no more than the simple truth. He saw Frensham's face change. There was a sudden shame in his eyes. "What is the use of your telling me that?" b "Does it hurt, man?"

"Most damnably." For the moment he looked furious. If was the savage anguish of a man in torment, and Magnus Brough understood.

He laid his hand on Frensham's should en

"She's ill, Martin. Oh, yes—curse, explode—let yourself go! I'm a worldly old devil, but I'm human. My dear chap, you'd like to blow your brains out—but would that help? Why don't you go back to her?" Frensham ground his teeth. "Go back to her- How can I?" "What puzzles me is how you can stay away." "Because I have rediscovered a sense of decency—because I'm ashamed." They had reached the Savoy Hotel, and Magnus Brough paused. "Will you come in?" "Thanks, I'd rather not." "Oh, all right. I'm here for another day or two; come and look me up." He held out a hand to Frensham. "Good night, old man." "Good night." Brough was half-way across* the road between the sea front and the houses

"It's just the same everywhere. Idiots! You can't look at a view in Italy without being pestered to buy picture post-cards."

They left the vetturino swearing and cracking his whip. "Beastly place—Naples. Why not come and stay a month with me?" "What, at San Stefano?" "At my villa. I am going back by sea in a day or two. Why not?" Frensham walked on in silence, his head slightly bowed. "I don't know what to say to yon, Magnus. I have begun to think that 1 can't go back." "Pride."

"In a way. Wouldn't it be an insult to her?"-

"Man, what a lot you have to learn about women! Be frank with me. Have you broken with that Yankee woman?" "Utterly." "Well, hasn't she taught you anything?" '' You can guess.'' Magnus Brough plucked Frensham by the sleeve. "Come and look at the sea."

They stopped, and stood leaning their arms on the stone parapet, with the water washing softly at the foot of the wall. Magnus Brough appeared to be thinking, and when he spoke he looked straight out over the sea.

"Nella will teach you more, my friend. Don't you realise that she hae been keeping tie old life open for you, that she has been suffering in silence, that she has refused to surrender?" "1 am beginning to realise it. Then she smothered up the truth?" "Exactly." "Why?"

Brougli looked at him queerly. "Man, don "t you understand? She foresaw all that would happen; she knew the day would come when you would need her, when all that mad froth would be over. She refused to let the world interfere. She tried to forgive you—to wait till you had recovered your sanity." ,

Frensham stared at the water, his face between his hands.

I "Is it possible?" "It was possible. But even such [courage cannot last for ever. She's ill. Doesn't that make you understand?" Frensham seemed to crumple up, to sink into himself. His face was twitching. For a moment he could not speak. ''Don't rub it in, Magnus. Has she been shielding me all this time, refusing to throw me off? And I—l left her like a ca,d, without a word—brutally. It's amazing!" "Life is amazing at times, old man. Oh, I know; it has made me feel humble; it has made me want to curse you, call you the devil's own fool. But she was wiser, she was more generous. She's just the finest woman I have ever met; that's all."

Frensham said nothing. He was lying in the dust of a great humiliation. Presently he spoke, and his voice sounded strnngo and husky. "Is it all over now, Magnus? Has i she given up caring?" | "Man, 1 don't know. It's no longer i the old Nella; she's changed. It's as [though she has given up living. The doctor-man thinks she is going to die." Frensham' straightened like a man pricked with a sword. "Die! It's—it's impossible! " His hands groped as though he were blind. "She can't die!—she mustn't die!—l can't bear it. I'll fight death for her." Brough gripped his arm. "Then come to San Stefano with me." "I'll come." [To be Continued on Saturday.]