“THE HONOUR OF HIS HOUSE,”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 16494, 3 August 1921, Page 2

“THE HONOUR OF HIS HOUSE,”

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By

FRED. M. WHITE.

CHAPTER ll.—Continued. “In London.'’ Lady Edna corrected. “Yes.” but this is an entirely different matter. None of that class have ever been down here before. Besides, what possible connection caai there be be- ; tween us and these baltburns? Oh, 1 know all about the father. I know that forty years ago he started in life selling glue or fin tacks, or something equally revolting and necessary. 1 know that he is a great financier with offices in every capital in Europe—sort of Rothschilds—Lady Marchborough says. But it is not very complimentary to the Rothschilds to mention them in the same breath. But really, my dear father, the audacity of these people is getting beyond all bearing.” “ Unfortunately,” Sherringborne sighed, “ unfortunately we can’t do without them.” “Fortunately we can do without them here,” Lady Edna said with some austerity. “ Oh, I quite recognise their power and importance. Baron de la Oroisa said the other night that a handful of capitalists over a plate of filberts and a’bottle of port could change the map of Europe ii they liked. But with all their power none of them has yet succeeded in getting an invitation to Borne Abbey, and I am rather surprised ” Slier ringborn© shuffled uneasily in his cliair. “ My dear, you taro no sympathy with modern thought. It is absolutely I necessary for the Government to keep j on the right side of Sail-burn. He’s got that Tortina. business in the hollow of his hand. Oxford and Eton, a really first-class shot, and a straight rider to hounds. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Saltburn decided to buy ‘ The Chant rev ’—-—” Lady Edna passed her hand across ! her face as if she were suffering from a particularly hideous form of nightmare. Tn a faint small voice she j asked Sherringborne if she heard him j correctly. Was she to understand that “ The Chantrey ” was actually in the market? She refrained from asking her father why he had dared t-o cotjtemplate such a step without consulting her, but that was what her iono inforJ red. and the fact wae not lost upon his i Majesty’s Minister for Foreign Affairs. | “What was the good of it?” he ' asked. He spread ontj his hands as if he were addressing a hostile gathering i in the House of Lords. “ I ask you as a sensible girl what we make per annum out of “The Chant rev 7 ? It’s a beautiful old house and. of course, it has been the family dower house for centuries. I/Oek at the Innd there, what poor stuff it is. Nothing but gorso arid heather—seven or eight thousand acres for a few sheep to starve on. If I sell the place to Saltburn w© shan’t even know i hat lie’s there. And I understand he is prepared to pay quite a fancy price for it.” “ A fancy price,” Lady Edna echoed * scornfully. “ My dear father, where do you pick up your expressions? It sounds like a ticket on a ready-made mantle in a Bond Street shop. If we are in need of money, which we are not ” “Then we are exceedingly fortunate, my dear,” Sherringborne Ejaicb in his mildest manner. “ I suppose you don’t I realiss- what an expensive luxury SLorj W is-’” “ I suppose Teddy is extravagant, ! Lady Edna, admitted with the air of a sovereign asking Parliament for a '■ grant for some pampered prince. “ I shouldn't so much mind if he were a little more careful with his acquaintances. But then those society papers I exaggerate ho. 1 read a ridiculous 1 story a few' days ago about Shorland and that South American dancer. Something idiotic about a diamond 1 necklace. By the way, T saw her this morning. Tier car pulled up and she asked me the way. A common, I flaunting creature.” l “ Ah, there you are- a little pre.juI diced,” Sherringborne said. “ I 1 thought she was—er—l mean, 1 believe she is quite well connected.” “ And leads that sort of life?” “Well, why not, my dear? It can he quite respectable, and it means j quite a fabulous income, so far as 1 I know. Ninon Gurrados goes everywhere.’ ’ “ y es, I suppose ah© does. But she doesn’t come lie re, and, of course, that story of the diamond necklace is a j fable.” Sherringborne smiled a little guiltily as he lighted a. fresh cigarette. It was not for him to say that he had the bill for those diamonds in his pocket at the very moment. He was almost ashamed to tell Lady Edna how frank the old family solicitor had been on the subject of Shorland’s extravagance. But this was not likely to effect his daughter much, for she had regarded the Cranwallis exchequer to be as limitless ns the sea. Where mere money was concerned her contempt was wholehearted, not to say picturesque. “ boon Teddv owe so much?’* she asked earelesslj'. “ Over thirty thousand prounds,” Sherringhorne said. “ And this is by no moans the first time. Even our exchequer cannot stand it. My dear Edna, I really don’t know where the money is coining from. The lawyers tell me that I can’t cut down any more timber.” “ You can’t, you can’t!. Why?” “ Oh, it’s all very well to talk like that, but the estate is not mine to do what I like with. I am merely what the law calls a tenant for life. And so, you sec, this money must be paid. It v’ould never do for a man in my position to have Shorland’s debts thrown in my face. And that is why I have n.iade up my mind to Bell ‘ The Chantrey ’ ” Sherringborne spoke with a resolution that he was far from feeling, and had Lady Edna been less wrapped up in her contemplation of the family dignity she would have seen how hard and grey her father’s face had grown. She i Tree hi 'joe that there was something hero beyond financial worries. “ Saltburn has offered me at least four times the value of tho place,” he went on. “ Indeed, I don’t underhand why h© wants to buy it at all. And I shall bo glad, my dear, if yon won’t say any more about it. You will, of course, make Air Philip Saltbum’s brief stay here as pleasant as possible.” Lady Edna inclined her head graciously. She was a loyal and dutiful daughter enough, but eh© was not. pleased, and, as the day wore on she began to be conscious of an uneasy feeling that something was going to happen, that her father was concealing material facts from her. The day slipped on. decorously, as it always did at Borne Abbey, luncheon was a thing of the past, and Lady Edna was sitting down to tea, quite alone in tho great hall waiting for Sherringborne, ■ who was out somewhere on the estate. She sat there in the cool brown silence, with the little flecks of light cast here and there from the armour round the walls, waiting, half-unco'nseiously, for tho coining visiter. She had gone off into a day-dream of her own when eho bream© aware of the fact that a footman v. at llanding behind. Lcl with u.

young man by his side. Tlo was a tall, I u'ell-knit young man with a face ( bronzed almost to the hue of mahog* any, with tho tinge of health showing beneath it like tho rosy side of a winter apple. A masterful man, tod, .for his lips were close set and bis grey ©yes steadfast.

“I am Philip Saltburn,” he said, respectfully enough, though his tone was easy and self-reliant. “It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ladv Edna.” Philip Saltburn held out his hand with a frank suggestion of equality that 'touched Lady Edna’s pride at onoe, Seeing that this young man was her guest, there was nothing for it but to yield her hand with what grace she could. And with it all she caught herself thinking what a firm grip Saltburn had, and what a deal of consious power lay in those brown fingers of his. Not a handsome man. Lady Edna decided, but liis features were good and regular. He looked so wonderfully healthy and wholesome and, strangely enough, quite like on© to the manner born. Positively, there were no points in this young man’s armour to pick holes in. His flannel suit was wellcut and quiet in texture, his grey silk tie was knotted with the careful carelessness that usually goes with a welldressed man ivho is not even, aware of the fact that he is well dressed. With those few words he dropped into “one of the great carved Cromwellian chairs and began to talk quite easily and naturally. He appeared to have travelled far and wide, he seemed to have studied most things that mattered to advantage. And though Edna had been steeping in an atmosphere of art from her childhood, her own knowledge of the great English masters around her was nothing like so wide and comprehensive as that of her guest. He put, her right -upon a minor point or two quite without a suggestion of superiority.

Clearly it was impossible to patronise this young man. He absolutely refused to seo any line of social demarcation between himself and his beautiful hostess. lie, would probably have dismissed th© suggestion with a smile.

“ I have travelled a groat deal,” he said. “ You seo, I was born in Australia. My father emigrated there nearly fifty years ago. When I was old enofigh for school T divided my time between Eton and Heidelburg, finishing an at Oxford. It had been a pleasant life, but I have never known what it is to have a home, still, I have had dreams of a place like this, and that is why I am so anxious to get ‘ The Chantrey.’ I happened to see it some time ago and fell in love with the place, and my father is buying it lo please me.” Lady Edna sat there looking thoughtfully into the flower-decked fireplace. Possibly this young man meant nothing offensive, but the time had come to show him that matters were going too far. “I ::m mraicl I am not concerned with that.’’ she said haughtily. “The Earl wa tcliiug me something about it at brc::1“*»?t- time, but I am very much afraid. Mr Saltburn, that l could not possibb give my consent.” “Indeed,” Saltburn said with thinkling eyes. “ Then lam afraid we shall have to do without it.” CHAPTER 111 “ THESE THINGS TO SEAR ” There was no antogonism in Philip Saitburn’s dear eyes. He lay back in his chair crossing his legs and smilingly ciontemplating ifche cut of his neat- brown shoe. Obviously a difficult mau to anger, and still more difficult to turn from his point. Lady Edna regarded him with smouldering eyes. She would not lose her temper, of course, but really tins young roan must be made to understand. “ I beg vour pardon,” she said coldly. “ And 1 beg yours,” Saltburn said. “But, you see, the thing is as good as done. Of course, I should like to have yo«p*..approval} Jmt if you withhold it, then I can only deplore your point of view. What a charming old nail this is. There- is nothing that shows pictures off go well ao warm, brown old oak. And may I trouble you for another cup of this delicious ten. Wo are great tea drinkers in Australia, but we never get any like this. I expect that beautiful Queen Anne silver makes the difference.” i Lady Edna murmured something vague in reply. Sho had an uneasy feeling tlifit ~ there was something wrong in her attack, and she was uneasily conscious that she had come in contact with a force. Clearly this young man was not going to be routed by the feudal method. Perhaps he was a radical, but, in tlmt case, he would have had no sympathy with old oak and Queen Anne silver, and the works of the great English masters. Clearly it was useless to try and snub him, to open his eyes to the awful gulf that lay between a Cranwallis and a Saltburn. Perhaps it might be possible to let him down gently, to send him away with a ele-ar impression that money was r.ot everything, and that a Cranwallis was as far above him as the misty star is beyond, the flight of the moth. Sho would not, perhaps, have been so tranquil beneath the armour of her exclusiveness could she have looked iff to Saltburn’s mind, for over tho edge of his Sevres cup ho was studying her with the calm critical approval of a polished man of tho world. For Saltburn was acquainted with foreign courts. As the only won ot that great financial magnate William Saltburn, he found all houses were open to him. ho bad basked in the smiles of royalty itself. And ho was nob dazzled, he was too serene and level-headed for that. He had hi»s own ideals, he knew exactly the type of woman whom some day lie hoped would mlo over the dainty and refined homo which he saw late at night behind th© blue drift of his cigarette smoke.. And here it seemed to him that he bad found the very thing that he was looking for. Phil Saltburn was no snob, it was no exhilaration to him to find himself mixing with the groat ones of the earth, his critical faculty was too keen and clear for that. But ho had never yet seen stnyone who set bis pulses beating and moved him to such a warm regard as Lady Edna was doing. Ho liked her pose, bo liked the haughty stamp of her beauty, the curve of her lips, and the aquiline chiselling of her nose. She might have boon on© of Tennyson’s heroines,* and Saltburn had always bad., a- - weakness for the women of that great Victorian. As be sat there, baalncing his tea-cup, ho was drifting to th© conclusion that there was no occasion to go any farther, but there was no hurry, and, as far as he knev r , there was no on© in the way. He came down to dinner in the same of mind, "where h© sat with Sherringborne and his daughter in tho Rubens dining-room to a meal which w;ts none tho less elaborate booaus© it was so exceedingly simple. Half a dozen servants in the Cranwallis livery moved noiselessly about tho room, th© shaded lamps under the quaint pictures picked o\ib the exuberant flesh colourings of tho great Flemish artist. Silver and glass were priceless in their way, and it seemed to Saltburn that he had never seen such peaches and grapes before. Nob that he was in the least impressed. He. stood in no awe even of the magnificent family butler who, before now, bad impressed a Cabinet Minister. , Lady Edna sat there, dressed almost severely in black, her arms and shoulders shining like ivory in tho shaded lights. There was just one diamond flashing in her hair, an old ring or two on her slim fingers. From under her half-closed lashes she surveyed her guest. She was .a little disappointed, perhaps, that she could find no flaw in his social exterior. Even the trying act of peeling and eating one of

the Cranwallis peaches gave ber no loophole for criticism. , “ This is a wonderful old place of yours,” Saltburn said. “ I have been 'wandering about the grounds and admiring them, but what strikes me most forcibly are those amazing old yew hedges of yours.” “ Yes. we pride ourselves on our hedges.’f Sherringborne said. “They were planted in the reign of Elizabeth, mostly bv Sir Walter Raleigh, I believe ' They have been useful for purposes of defence more than once. Nothing could get through them. The> arc impregnable.” “It would certainly be a matter of time ” Saltburn observed. “ I think I could manage it if J wanted to. It would b© a matter of breaking one branch after another just as John Halifax suggested when the question was put to him by Phineas Fletcher. JX> you remember tho incident, Lady Edna ?” Lady Edna looked up from her peach languidly. “ T recall it,” she said. “ But I never cared much for that class of literature. In spito of his many virtues. John Halifax was essentially a middle-class man. The story of his successful career might have appealed to Samuel Smiles, but it certainly does not to mo.” “ Thor© you are wrong,” Saltburn said. “It is astonishing what little interest people in your position take in thy middle classes. You ought really to read more good English literature. It is clearly a duty that you owe us.” Lady Edna smiled faintly. Real!}’, Philip Saltburn was an amusing young man. A little la .ter on, perhaps, she would he able to show him that there was another point of view. “ T am sorry you think my education has been neglected,” she said. “And you do, don’t you?” “I am perfectly certain of it,” Saltbarn said ill a tone that had no possible suggestion of offence in it “It is not good tor anyone to lead an aloof life in these days. Of course, yours is an ideal existence here, but non© of us ever know what change time msv bring. For instance, it wcmld n“er have occurred to you a month ago that you would bo entertaining tho son of a man who started life scaring crows from an English wbeatfield ” This was so true such a thrust ill: the chink of her cold armour that Lady Edna rose and swept from tho room as nearly on the verge of rudenoss as ever she had been "in her life, ha It burn. watched her with a strange gleam in his eyes. T hen Sherringborne roso somewhat wearily from the table. I will get you to excuse me for an hour or two,” he said. “I have to see a friend on a little matter of business. A 7 ou can finish your duel with Lady Edna meanwhile.” (To bo continued.)