"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10196, 4 July 1911, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

A PAGEANT_ EPISODE. (By NORMAN INNES.) of "The Surge of "War," "My Lady's Kiss," etc. ■ [Ale Rights Reserved.] That the pageant Mas a success was jfcdmitted on every hand. The p-arl-onn-fens, so said the Master, were keen mid Intelligent, the stage-manager and his assistants conceded they were keen; the performers, oil their part, consented to let bygones be bygones so tar as the Master was concerned, though alive to the fact that it was be who had marred their summer, and Hroted the stage-manager immense. The, spectators were enthusiastic, and, if inclined to be capricious in their approval of certain of the characters impersonated, always greeted the Conqueror with rounds of cheering—a very large section of the British public lias Jvorman blood in its veins. But British public, performers, stage-mana-gers, the Master or the Pageant himeelf, who was invariably - urbane, voted Eustace de Montel a failure. The name of the unlucky performer who impersonated the character was James iEaster, a lank, somewhat near-sighted 'American, who had spent no less a feum than twenty guineas on his costume, and had cost the Master of the Robes, a sardonic individual not given, to wasting time in discussing details of dress with a lady performer, as taiany days' worry. Easter himself was conscious of bis eliortcomings, When, a few months 'before, the pageant had been mentioned in his rooms in Brazenose, on a sudden impulse he had offered to take a part, ana since then his interest had known no flagging. Eight and twenty years of age, imbued with a love of the past, he had entered into the spirit of tne episode in which he was to appear witn all an American's enthusiasm, Instead of putting up at an hotel in Eastbourne or Bexhill, towns almost equidistant from the scene of the pageant, he had been at pains to secure rooms in an old-world farmhouse that nestled among' the hills five miles 'across the PevenseV Marshes. He was inclined to look 011 it as sacrilege to take Ms motor-car into that out-of-the-way corner of Sussex, but, with an eye to the Napier's uses at the end of a grilling summer day, had sacrificed prejudice on the altar of utility. The role of Eustace de Montel was a small one, in fact, he had 110 more to do than to rido up to the King Edward, the Third of that name, and present a writing, afterwards taking his place among the lords, and ladies of the Royal retinue. It was an ideal character for on« of a somewhat retiring disposition, giving opportunity lor lavish display in costume, without the embarrassments of a speaking part. Nor had James Easter the smallest apprehension on the score of acquitting limself with credit. Ke was rich, had . epared nothing in the hire of a suitable mount, was more than an average horseman, and being, like so many of Ids countrymen, a keen student of the days of chivalry, leaked forward with •ager anticipation to the first of the three dress rehearsals within the castle itself.

• Haying sent on chauffeur and ear .With his luggage to his Sussex quarters, he had arrived at Victoria only •just in time to ,>pring into the last carriage of the Hastings train, and found himself in a third, at one end ,«f which a lady _was seated with her back to the en gin.'. Easter was anJioyed. It was his custom to travel luxuriously; he had a first-das,s ticket, -wished to smoke, and the train did Dot stop till Lewes. However, by the time Lewes was leached his dear and the discomforts of : an ill-stuffed seat were forgotten, and he was deep in a tete-a-tete with his fellow-traveller. It was within twenty minutes of reaching the county town that the lady had broken the ice,, having no-

iiced the violet-covered book of the pageant in which the American had. been absorbed. • *' You ;>re interested in the pageant?" said he, smiling, perhaps a trifle wearily. ''They talk of nothing else in our part of the county." " Yes, I am taking a part—a -very small one. You are in it, too?" A pair of clear grey eyes ruet Easter's dark ones. " No," she replied, with a little shake of her hqad. "But you will see it?" ■ "I'm not." " You aon't care for such things, probably P" The indifference of the English to their mighty past ha-d been always, a puzzle to the man with liifi Transatlantic enthusiasm.

'• Oh, but I do," she rejoined. " The children are simply wild to seo it."

So, sjie was married, then. The American siglied. Yet wliy sbo should not go with the children baffled him for a moment s till, just as he was on the point of asking the reason, he notice that her dress, well cut though it was, was worn., and there were other signs, minute in themselves, hut unmistakable—Easter had an eye for the smaller things of life- So he guessed, and was silent for a moment; then, iu fear lest his companion had taken notice of his glauoe, took refuge in the beauty of the country through which they were travelling—the full round shoulders of the Downs, and the chequer of coraland and pasture to right and left of the line. His fellow-traveller got' cut at Polegate, the station before Pevensey, and with a bow to Easter crossed the platform to where the Hailsliam train was waiting, and as he followed her with his eyes ho saw her confronted by a tall, looselv-built figure in a long clrab overcoat. He noted that the colour mounted to her cheeks as the pair stood talking together, perhaps for half a minute; then, turning abruptly, the man came hurrying along the train and entered the American s apartment. Honeath an impulse that got the better of him, it was on the tip of his tongue to make some casual reference to his late companion, and learn, if possible, her identity, but there was something in the newcomer's manner that scarcely invited such a course. The latter, a strong-featured, fairhaired man, whose thin, nervous lips spake a temper of the quickest, whoso eyes, very keen, very blue, gave a certain wildness to the expression, seemed almost typical of Anglo-Saxon aloofness. Moreover, the stranger seemed oblivious of the fact that he was -not alone,-mid alighted at Pevensey in a languid, blase fashion without having bestowed a second glance upon the American. That afternoon, strange to sav, James Easter's illusions as to the spirit of pageantry suffered a shock from which they never recovered. For weeks he liad looked forward to the day when ho should meet his fellowperformers in the costume of a bygone age beneath the grey walls of the castle, and bitter was his disappointment at the shattering of his dreams. Try as he might he could not have done with the present for even a short twenty minutes, and live in the oldon past. There was d'AquiWs keep, the huge outer walls with their wealth of clustering ivy; there was the throng of knights and ladies, squires and men-at-arms, nuns, priests and peasants; but there was also the stage-manager and his assistants, a knot of critical if privileged onlookers, and the stand yawniiig black and empty. There was a certain incongruity in it all that Easter could not away with. No wonder, then, that he was late in making his entrance in response to the herald's summons, handed the writing of which ho was the bearer to a bishop instead of to the king, earning by his blunders the sarcasm of the, stage-manager and the laughter of his companions. His part played, he found himself a stranger in a group of dismounted knights and their ladies, some in costume, some

in ordinary dress, whoso smiles hut added to his confusion. Not that he paid much attention, to his' immediate surroundings—perhaps it had bee2i to hia advantage if ho had. His thoughts, instead of being concentrated upon the episode in progress, kept drifting back to the fair-haired, gTey-eyed. lady who had shared his morning journey. The: rehearsal over, his car earned liixn across the marshes. Gone were the scenes of the a i'tcrnoon —tho pageant in.'its pomp and pride; instead, a smiling, gracious figure in a brown holland dress dominated his recftllections of the day. In spite of a -week-end spent in the heart of the South Saxon country, with the opening of the pageant itself things went from, bad to worse; in fact, Easter's troubles began upon the very first day, when his horse, caparisoned in blue and silver trappings, took fright at the storm of cheering that greeted its appearance. Its rider lost a stirrup, and the startled animal, for a moment out of hand, galloped wildly past the King's chair, scattering a .veil-posed group of ladies, to the an'/nish of the officials. Performers

guttered their annoyance or contempt, spectators rocked with delight, and for the remainder of tha week Do Montel's entrance was the signal for a hum of eager, if mirthful, anticipation. Thanks to some difficulty ho had experienced in remounting his charger upon the* Wednesday, his exit past the left-hand corner of the grand stand, where the cheaper seats were located, was invariably, if ironically, cheered, though as some salve to his feelings the plaudits/ of two children, who the week through were to be npticed at the extremity of the foremost row of chairs, were undoubtedly genuine. Day in, day out. these children watched eagerly for the silver martlets upon the azure surcoat, craning their heads round the corner of the stand; day in, day out, they smiled and waved their hands as if to a friend, as its wearer rode off in the royal train. The children, brother and sister, had caught Easter's attention at the very first performance, and more than once, on glancing at the spectators, he had' wondered who these little ones that took such evident interest in him and his doings could be. It was upon the last day of the pageant, when, having delivered his writing, ho had taken rp his allotted position in the group of dismounted knights and dames, that once again his attention was drawn by the hoy and girl by a fragment of whispered conversation he chanced to overhear.

" Those kiddies at the end upon our right?" It was a woman's voice that aske'3 the question. "Yes, tlio®" arc they." " Whoro is she, then?"

"At homo,'' rejoined a knight at Easter's back. " I had to bring them, they've been hero every day this week. She won't come, you know, and I fancy you can guess why." " They say it's because you u-oukl not take the character that bears your name."

The man laughed a trifle harshly. "Let them say so if the explanation pleases them/' The American turned to meet ahand-dark-eyed woman in amber silk and gold brocade staring curiously at tho children in the stand before her. Ho fancied there was a suspicion of mockery in the smile that was parting her lips; he was certain that there wan little pleasure to be read on the face of her companion, a knight, plumed and in complete armour, whom he, recognised in a moment. It was the cleanfeaturcd man who had shared tho hist stage of his journey to Pevensey the week before, the same who had spoken with "the girl in the holland dross," as Easter was pleased to call the lady who had travelled with him from town. But for the clear blue eyes, the face that looked momentarily into his would have been scarcely pleasant; pride, evil temper, passion uncontrolled, were written plainly on the features of tho war-

rkir who stood Reside that richlyapparelled dame, with the bridle of liis horse, a. dark roan, looped on his arm. Easter had no time fot' u second dance, for the episode was all but ended. The horsemen were mounting, and then, ns he was on the point of putting his foot in the stirrup, his horse, startled hv a burst of martial music, by the piint of the July sun upon mail and spear-point, backed si way from its rider, and flung the group into disorder. "Take care, sir!" cried the owner of the keen, fierce eves, that had suddenly lit with annoyance. "By Heaven ! it's the fellow who has the infernal cheek to disgrace my arms by wearing them!" The latter part if the remark, addressed less to Easter than to the lady who was already in the saddle, stung the American.

■' I am impersonating Eustace de Montel, sir," he retorted., gathering up the reins. '' and for the time being have a right to wear his .arms." "Uight!" gasped the other, catching his breath. " ~\Yhat right, have you to what is mine?" Easter thought the speaker would have flung himself upon him. but for the fact that the King's retinue was moving away. As each fell into his place, and wheeled round, before the stand, the American found himself upon the outside of the procession with no one between him and the spectators. The final performance had passed off without a hitch, even he had done nothing to nmr the success of the day, and he was more than glad that the pageant was at an <3nd; he had had enough of this resuscitating of the past. On approaching th© angle of the stand he glanced up at the nudienee as if searching for some face that he knew, though tho ground fell away sharply, and more than one horse had blundered down the slope. His visor was up, and catching sight of tho children who had been so loyal in their applause, he smiled at them, and then suddenly became awaref of shouts behind him. of thy thud of flying hoofs, of a murmur aty.ong the onlookers. He glanced backwards, and caught sight of a horseman, a tall man upon a heavy roan, not a dozen yards away, bearing down upon him as if to force him upon the barrier. Easter, recognising the man. and guessing his intention, did his best to draw "his horse aside; but it was all too late, the oncoming roan struck his bay upon the quarters, and steed and man went down within five paces of the stand.

The sp«ctators sprang to their feet; the procession was flung into disorder, rcme haltiiut; from sheer amazement, others crying shame on the rider of the roan, who made his exit laughing. The American knew the art of falling, find regained his saddle without loss of time, little the worse for the mishap. Some of his armour had broken loose, surcoat and trappings were white with dust, but this was the sum total of the damage. On reaching tlio inn, without stopping to take off his costume, Easter ordered his cor and went down into Die street. Thanks to the malice of the man who had objected to his wearing the De Montel cognisance, many of those who had been inclined to look on him as an incompetent blunderer were now profuse in their expressions of sympathy; his ready mountin.se of the bay after its fall had proclaimed him a horseman., and had won the goodwill of spectators and performers alike. " f am sure we are all sorry, sir,' said the King of the Plantagenet episode, voicing the general (solicitude. " Do Montel's temper is a scandal to the county; between ourselves, he's hardly responsible for his actions. He .should have taken your part himself; it was offered to him months aero, but ho refused it in some fit of pique, and has no right to object to your taking it."

The American "was somewhat embarrassed ; any resentment ho might hare felt for his assailant ebbed away, annoyance was succeeded, by amusement. He thanked the pageant King, assured all and sundry that he was not hurt, and was about to step into his car when he caught a glimpse of two young children upon the inn steps. Ha smiled at the sight of them, and waved his hand; at any rate, lie had no quarrel with his brother and sister. In response they came towards him, adding not a little to his embarrassment. Those before the inn drew back as the pair advanced. ' "We were afraid that you were hurt," said the boy; he could not have been more than nine. " You were wearing our crest, you know. We are Do Montels from Chelsham."

Eastar took their hands. " Yon are driving homo with your father?" he hazarded, hardly knowing what to sav.

Th© children shook th«?ir heads'. "Father has gone; he Raid he could not take us homo to-night, and we must ■wait for the carrier."

The American laughed. " Will you come with me in the car?''

The faces of the boy and the girl lighted in an inetant. "Com© along, then," cried Easter, lifting them to the front scat of the Napier, and ui another moment the} 7 were threading t'/ieir way through the unwonted traffic in the Perensey Street. Cholsham lies six miles/out across tho marsh, and was not more than two from, the farmhouse in which the American had taken rooms. The latter drove slowly, for tho children amused him, and the long stretch of level was at its best in tho evening sunlight. Indeed, he made something of a detour for the sake of the brother and sister to whom motoring was a novelty, and thoy in turn insisted on being allowed to him to their mother. Sho was not able to come, not •puce, said the boy. " She let us go instead, and she is a Dfi Montel, too; sho war father's cousiu."

"Yes, mother will be pleased," added his fiistpr; "she wondered who it u ;!.s that had taken father's part. You will see him, too.''

J nines Easter had little wish tn moot the hi £ lci*. Apart from the act of spite iiiat might have resulted in a serious disaster hp remembered the dark-oyed, ftaih-circ s:-:od lady and the whispered conversation between the two However lo please the little ones lie would let them introduce him tn their I'iother, and besides, ho had heard of C uelsiiam anil the beauties of the iiouse.

\\ithin another ten minutes they "'rl hills beyond the marsh, and the children wero standing up in +7 g - er }° point , out chimn«.\s <)1 then- home, when on a ridge Sn r ll ' ng r a S^' dle(] a horseman. evidently one of those who had latolv taken part m the pageant, astride V T?v ronn ' Not that tlj e oc+n +l> 1 °t v P a,d much attention to the colour of the charger: it war, ;,Xl /,' lac ' t 111 ?"/ gallop that held them breathless. For a,l instant horse and rider wore silhouetted upon the sky-line, then down the slope tW plunged, through brake and thicket, heacJong as though lile and d.-ath hung 011 their swift descent. h Straight for the car thov marfr. down hie steepest part of the hill, ih'e forward upon the roan's withers doiiv nothing to hold it together, the roan mad with terror. Within thirty yards of the level

ground came the end. The horse made a mistake, strove to recover itself, and tell, flinging its rider wide to the off. " It's "father!" gasped the boy, and Easter applied the brakes. The sun was dipping as, between the wide-spread borders, where lilies, Canterbury bells and poppies were all in bloom, they approached the grev old house, with its quarry roof and twisted chimney-stacks, Easter with his burden in his arms and two children clinging to the skirts of his cloak. Upon the terrace a woman met them—a woman in plain brown holland. With a smile ior her children, a heightening of her colour for the man in the De 3:1 ontel srreoat, she advanced to meet them, and then stood suddenly still, death-white for that which lay limp in the other's arms.

With no word of bidding Easter entered the house, leaving mother and children together. Noiv that the wild blue eves worn closed, Neville de Montel's was an ill face to look upon. Although one of the race whose ancestor lie lii'.d impersonated, James Easter gave his orders in Chelshatn that night, ■waited the doctor's coming, did all that was to be done under tho circumstances, and rodo away iu his car as the moon rose seaward across the marshes. Like Pevensoy's ruin, there's many a Southland Manor that can advance high claims to the honour of pageantry ; so far as Chelsham is concerned, tiio latest episode in its history, so they sfcy, is likely to l>e> the wedding of its mistress with an American.