Trensham’s New Year’s Gift

Taranaki Daily News, 20 December 1924, Page 2 (Supplement)

Trensham’s New Year’s Gift

<By

Annie S. Swan.)

(Copyright.)

There are men and women who #eem predestined for the solitary life. Gilbert Trensham. was ent of these. The son of a small tradesman in a country town he had become a solicitor in London, gathering together a modest connection and not witheut ambitions for the future. His parent* whc. had spent their all on preparing him for his career died befone they were rewarded for their self sacrifice. But he had been a good and dutiful son who had given them no pangs. Trensham was not ore to make friends easily. He was of a rather reserved disposition, for which reason perhaps he inspired confidence which cut’asted that demanded by the assertive and loud-mouthed. But he had few friends sometimes wondered vaguely whether this was all life had to offer him.

To his modest chambers in Bedford Row one day came a new client who altered the whole complexion of his affairs. It was the business of one Albert Jenkins to receive clients or others enquiring for his master and at fifteen he had developed an almost uncanny sense of discrimination. No mere seeker after alms was permitted to pass under the lifted flap of the barrier intervening between the outside world and the inner sanctuary of Mr. Gilbert Trensham’s private room. Jenkins saw to that, and when the day after the Christmas holidays had come to an end a lady opened the door on which was written in white letters the word ‘’Enquiries,’’ Jenkins leaped to his feet. He had fully expected an idle or at least a slack day, for Christmas upsets everybody and it takes a good week to recover from

Jenkins sprang tfi attention, skilfully thrusting his paper-covered detective mystery behind the London Directory. “Yes lady, Mr. Trensham’s in. Wot

He pronounced his master’s name without the “A” in the last syllable, closing his lips on it with a peculiar snap. “He won’t know my name. Please tell him a lady wishes to see him.” Albert Jenkins pondered. His instructions to get a client’s name first were most explicit, but the lady was attractive, and had a slightly imperious manner. ‘‘Please sit down,” he said politely, “An’ I’ll see.”

The. lady did not sit down but stood looking round the musty little place with curious eyes. It was a very bare and poor room, not in the least suggestive of a successful lawyer’s environment, and the ashes were white and dirty in the little grate which kept Albert Jenkins warm in winter.

She was a woman about thirty, well dressed, wearing her clothes with a certain distinction, altogether rather an unusual type.

Presently Albert Jenkins re appeared and lifted the flap from the dingy counter. “Please to walk in Mam. Mr. Trensham will see you now.” She nodded and followed Albert across the narrow floor, and disappeared through the doorway which was immediately closed. A keen glance passed between Trensham and his new client, an appraising glance on both sides.

“Good afternoon madam,” said Trensham a trifle stiffly and solemnly as he set forward the best chair for her acceptance. “Good afternoon. I want your advice. I saw your name on the plate at the door. It was a familiar name. I knew a Treneham once, he was one of the best. So I came up.”

Trensham felt his interest quickened at once. The appearance of the stranger was attractive, even arresting, her unusual method of introduction whetted his ’curiosity.

“It is not a very unusual name,” he said rather lamely. “Yours?” “Sheldon. Beatrice Sheldon. Mrs. Sheldon I ought to say, I suppose. I’m a widow.”

Trensham bowed, sat down in his revolving chair, and waited for further light. “It’s about my husband’s will,” ehe Mid quietly. “It was mad e in America and I have just heard the contents.” “Indeed! Have they been cabled from

“Oh, dear no, written by a firm in West Forty-seventh Street. I’v e got the letter here.”

She took it out, a long formidable looking envelope made of the very best parchment, the sort of envelope used invariably by firms of repute. Trensham noticed little things like that, possibly because he had more leisure than many lawyers. “I’ll have to tell you I suppose a little bit about myself before you understand this document. I’ve been married to Hubert Sheldon for five years. We didn’t get on ■ —our marriage was a failure.” Trensham without saying a word managed to convey to her his deepening interest.

“It’s quite a long story and I expect there were failures on both sides. But there were some on his side I found n difficult to forgive. I couldn’t forget them anyway. I hated America, I couldn’t atop there, we separated by a kind of mutual consent.” “Any children?”

“No. If there had been children I should have held on. We agreed about nothing, and his standard was different from mine.”

“Lower?”, suggested Trensham on the spur of the moment. Her cheek slightly reddened. “It depends on the point of view. I thought it low’er, but then as I say there were faults on both sides.” “We agreed to separate and he made me a quite good allowance. I came back to five months ago, and two weeks ago I had a cable announcing his death from shock of some kind. I haven’t got the particulars, probably I shall hear them when I go over to New York, which I am thinking of doing early in January.”

“But not to stay there?” said Trensham once more on the spur of the moment, more and more attracted by his new client. He was amazed at himself. Life seemed suddenly to blossom like some rare flower of passion and beauty beside which ordinary experiences seemed as nothing. The speaking face, the slight wistfulness in the eyes, the strange feeling of comradeship which seemed to draw these two lonely souls together was influencing both.

“What is it you wish me to advise you about ?” he asked kindly. “This will. It appears to me monstrous. My husband left so many thousands of dollars. In English money it works out at about ten thousand pounds but there are so many restrictions.”

“What kind of restrictions?”, asked Trensham with his eyes on the big envelope lying across her lap. “About my re-marrying again. I lose everything then and it goes to a charitable institution somewhere near New York. Greenwich I think is the name.” “Greenwich Village,” supplemented Trensham. “I’ve heard of it, an artist colony is there I think.”

“Something, of that kind. He was interested in art and artists, and I think he lived there latterly. Well what I want to ask is whether I can upset the condi-

tions of this will. It doesn’t seem fair. You see he didn’t earn this money, he inherited it from his father, who was very fond of me, and who would, I am sure, have wished me to have everything.” Trensham stretched out his hand for the envelope, and it was passed over. He rapidly made himself master of th e contents, then looked across the elaborately

vritten sheet into her face.” “It can’t be ipset—it is a very explicit document.” “Couldn’t I plead undue influence or

.something ? There was somebody at Greenwich we had trouble about. I don’t like that kind of people. They have a different standard, they seem to live all just anyhow’. Hubert loved Bohemia and the trouble began there. I wanted my husband and my home to myself. 1 wasn’t extravagant or unreasonable I thought, but he thought differently. This is cruel—l think—as well as unjust.” “But possibly it may end happily enough. You might not want to marry again.” Trensham made this suggestion rather hesitatingly. “Perhaps not—but the other condition that I must go and live in Greenwich Village, you see the subtle cruelty of it, for he knew I loathed the place. Can’t you get me released from any of the conditions of the will?” “I’m afraid not, but if you will kindly leave it to me for a day or two I’ll go into the matter thoroughly.” “Oh. I can do that all right. When shall I come back? I can come any day. I’m living in a boarding house round in Russell Square. I only came up here today as I said because I happened to see your name on the door piate.” “That was a bit of_ luck for me” said Trensham quickly ami with animation which lit up his whole grave face making it look entirely different. “Are you a lonely person too ?” she asked rather wistfully. “It is rather awful to be in London through Christmas and New Year without any friends. New Year used to be our celebrating time. I’m a Scotswoman, but all my people are gone now.”

Trensham explained part of his circumstances and by the time the interview had ended they were very good friends. He gave considrabie attention to the document she had left with him, but found no loophole of escape for the woman who in her married life had somehow missed the way. Trensham had made a good deal of quiet study of human nature, and had no difficulty in piecing the story together. It was one of the minor tragedies of married life, incompatability of temper and disposition, and insufficient affection to make the best of things. He felt, however, that the dead man had taken rather a mean revenge. Next day they met again. It was the last day of the year, a grey uneventful year that had brought little joy or brightness to Gilbert Trensham. More and more he felt himself a lonely man, and he looked forward to meeting his new client again with an eagerness that surprised himself. Hitherto, women had not interested him much, in fact he had secretly rather despised some of the incredible weaknesses of the sex which incidentally provided work for him and others in his profession. There was not much suggestion of weakness in Beatrice Sheldon’s story, but rather strength and incompatability pitted against one another.

He met her by appointment at his own office at three o’clock next afternoou, and on this occasion Albert Jenkins admitted her without a moment’s delay. In fact he was on the look out for her. having, received his instructions. Trensham thought her even more attractive than on the previous day. She looked less worried, and there was a gay note in her voice when she spoke. “You’ve no idea how differently I feel,” she said. “I slept soundly last night feeling I had rolled this horrid worry off on to someone else. I hope you slept?” “Oh yes. thank you, like a top,” he answered awkwardly like a school boy. “A very bleak blustering day, is it not ?” “Is it ? I hadn’t noticed. I was counting the time till I got here wondering why you didn’t make the appointment for the morning when everybody is at their best. Well, have you discovered anything, in that precious object that is going to benefit me?” She covered the offending document on. the desk with her eyes. Trensham shook his head. “Nothing—it will have to stand,” he answered with his customary frankness. “And though you go to America it won’t make any difference. The money the. voyage will cost will be lost, so far as any pecuniary advantage is concerned. This ties you up completely.” Her eyes darkened a little, and her sweet mouth became graver. “I was afraid of it. Well, I suppose I’ll have to carry on ' according to plan. Hubert Sheldon’s plan. So, I don’t- get away -.from him even now he is dead.” ' ’

It was on the tip of Trensham’s to say there -was only one way' out ’ffift he refrained in time, for the remark suggesting a second marriage would obviously' be completely out of taste. Presently " she,-continued. “I had made up my mind tb celebrate this evening- if you got me out, that is by asking dine with me. It’g morbid. I dimply loathed Christmas;”

“So did I,” assented Trensham eagerly. “Well as I haven’t got you out,” he added with an odd jerky smile, “I owe you something. Will you come and dine with me instead at the Savoy and we can listen to the music afterwards.”

Her face brightened; her whole personality seemed to become alive. “How delightful! Yes, of course I’ll come. No man has ever asked me out to dinner since I was married. And the

Savoy music! Of course I’ll come. What time?”

The details of the evening’s outing were quickly settled and at half past seven that night Trensham was at the boarding-house door with a taxi. He looked remarkably well in his evening clothes and had invested in a new white waistcoat for the occasion. Mrs. Sheldon, in unrelieved black with a modest string of pearls round her neck and a cloak of soft grey and white which kept slipping off her shoulders, was a companion of whom any man might have been proud. Trensham was proud of her and showed it in every motion and word. He had left nothing to chance. A table in a delectable corner was waiting for them; the lights softly shaded, added to Mrs. Sheldon’s charms, and Trensham in such a unusual situation found himself thrilled and enchained. This was life; all the rest that had gone before had surely been only a drab make believe. He felt that h e had been waiting for the hour that was now his, and, of which he must make the most. As the delicious meal progressed, they talked of many things. He found her a vivacious, well informed woman, with a wide knowledge of books. Apparently she had spent much of her solitude in the companionship of the silent friends who never wound or betray us. Trensham was a lover of books and a discriminating reader, and as their talk proceeded he was delighted to find that .they had so much in common. The subject of the will was not mentioned till they had left the table and found a very good place in the lounge, ' where, the special New Year’s- programme was just beginning.

“Wasn’t it a happy chance which jjjade 'me stop and read your sign in Bedford Row?” asked Mrs. Sheldon as she leaned, back in her chair, a soft colour in her cheeks and a war<n glow in her eyes. “Think what would have been happening if we hadn’t met! I should have been pitting with a book in the furthest corner of the drawing room in Russell Square, watching the tabbies wrangling over their very bad bridge, while you ”

“I should have been in mv rooms reading, too, and lied up with life.”

“Ar e you ever fed up ?” she asked wonderingly. “I can’t imagine it.” “Can’t, you?” Trensham laughed, and it was a pleasant sound. There is much in a laugh. Quite often, rightly interpreted, it offers the key to the door of a man’s or a woman’s personality. “I’ve been fed up so much of late that I’ve been casting about for some means of escape. You turned up just in the nick of time.”

She did not ask what he meant, and by-and-by he found himself beginning to tell her the whole story of his life. It did not take long, because it contained no adventures, only a record of work and partial achievement. “How sad that your father and mother did not live till now,” she said. “It would have made a great difference.”

“It would. I’ve come to the conclusion that unless a man has the human element in his life, the need and the passion to work for others, or at least for one other,” he added quietly, “he isn’t likely to achieve much. Self interest won’t bring him very far.” “Oh. I don’t know. I’ve always heard that the really selfish ones who crush everything under th e juggernaut of their own ambition are the ones that reach the goal.” “They may do sometimes, only to find it dust and ashes in the mouth.” He saw the toe of her dainty slipper with the dragon fly in brilliants adorning it, tapping impatiently on the floor. “Isn’t the music heavenly,” she cried. “Let’s dance.”

They did, Trensham for the first time in years. They spent the hours till near midnight watching the revellers, taking no very active part but enjoying every moment of the beauty and the light. Any who regarded them, concluded from their demeanor that they were husband and wife having a night out. About ten minutes to twelve, when the hush of the expected climax of th e evening was approaching, Beatrice suddenly rose, and Trensham saw her lips quiver. “I think I want to go. Do you mind ? I should hate to bring the New Year in here. It doesn’t seem right somehow, but if you want to stay just put me in a taxi and Jet me go.”

“Should I be likely to stay without you?” he asked gravely. “This evening has only one meaning, and that is you.”

Her eyes met his in a shy, startled look, but she said nothing and they quickly left the gay throng to get their wraps. When they were in the taxi neither spoke for several minutes. As they rolled through the bright but partially deserted streets Trensham realised that he did not wish her to go; that the love of which he had heard and read, but never wholly believed in, had reached him at last, and not only reached him but caught him fast in the toils. “When am I to see you again ?” he asked, realising how swiftly the moments were passing. “This isn’t going to be the end!” “Isn’t it?” she asked. “I’ve never thanked you yet for this lovely, unforgettable evening, but I am grateful, every bit of me.” “The debt is all miqp,” he assured her quickly. “When am I to see you again ?” “I don’t know.” “But I shall have to know. It means everything to me; it is like madness but—but I must say it. You’ve come as a New Year’s gift to me and I’ll never let you go.” She made him no answer till the taxi slowed up at the door of her temporary and unloved shelter. “I think we must wait till to-morrow. To-night we have been happy and are perhaps not quite normal. I’ll wait for that Letter which you will write in the cool light of day. I shall read it in the same light, and answer it—perhaps.” “Goodnight friend, and even if—even if —we never .meet again, I’ll remember this New Year’s Eve -and this happy New Year’s morning.”

She gave him no hand, just a long still radiant look which seemed to illumine his whole being. When he reached his own quarters he sat down furiously to think, and also to take stock of his own resources. He had spoken irrevocable words. He wanted her desperately, but knowing what was involved should she marry again, had he the right? His investigation and stocktaking was slightly more satisfactory than he had expected, and he discovered that he was well able

to |set up a small establishment, and to live; in comfort without embarrassment or anxiety. He slept on that discovery and nexjt morning found himself absolutely de,t.erihined to take the full hazards. He spefit the whole morning after he had attended to some necessary correspondence at his office in concocting the which Albert Jenkins was “sent to bef< re lunch. It was. written-' .;‘rewriiten, torn up. and thrown away, ' and the achievement had nothing, lawyerlike about it. It was simply a heart" cry whi’h re-ached th e heart that. ;alofi£’could satisfy jt. 1 , “Even-? knowing the whole star ces/and what you stand to lose if . you should, (by any favouring miracle, give me the answer I want—;l ask you to ,share my lifes ■; There has never been a woman in t came. I can’t give you wealth or great estate, but I can offer.you a man’s honest devotion that: has' been stor id up for you and will last. If I am too presumptuous send me no ‘ answer and I shall understand.” ' V \ ■ j - -

Within the hour, the answer cflcrie backIt \Vas brief, too, but sufficed;’ “I am so glad the cold light of day did not dissipate the dream! What you offer is so rare that th e woman who threw it away would deserve the loneliness that already has nearly broken my heart. This New-Year’s Day is the birthday ;of .happines£, yours and mine. Come!”