“UNDYING MUSIC.”

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17035, 8 May 1923, Page 10

“UNDYING MUSIC.”

(My L. G. MOBERLY)

NBW SBRIAL.

(Chapter XV.,, continued.) “My life-work? Oh, *O. I have always wanted to write, and I thought 1 was going to settle into a peel time of grinding at it this summer. But ” —she hesitated—“but I could not settle to that or to anything in my old home. I had to get out. I den t think it was cowardly,” she added rathe*- wistfully. And a* they turned into the Cloisters Allerton put hie hand on her arm. “ Not cowardly, certainly net. I am sure you were never a coward, but” —he looked out into the centre of the Ctftwsters, where the level sunbeam* turned the graes to living emerald—you must not mark time too long. Sometimes there is a danger of dropping jnto a paasive state, into a comfortable groove, out of which it is very hard to climb; I drifted myself, after 1 buried all that really mattered in life—there." He pointed to a cross clo.se under the Cloisters wall by which they stood, and Gladys, leaning forward. read upon it the words: “ Leonora, Wife of Maurice Allerton, Aged 28 years. I>eo«noia. their Child. Aged 3 veers.” l thank God upon every remembrance of you.” ‘Oh. I am sorry!” Gladys said softly after a few seconds of silence. “ I didn’t kuow ” “How 7 should you know?” His voice was very gentle. " l think nobody here—excepting Mrs Chalmers—remembers now 7 that .1 once bad a wife and child. They look upon me as an eccentric old bachelor. Those two —his glance turned again towards the cross— went away so long ago. Hie child would have been as old as .you are by now.” And the smile that so wonderfully illuminated his face lit it up now. “ But you are not <>W enough to be my father!” Gladys exclaimed. •• Very nearly, if not quate. 1 am forty-five, and I married very yowng, ami my married life—my short married life—was like an idyll. They left me. within a week they had both gone. The little one caught diphtheria, and her mother nursed her, and in one short week the whole of my happiness was swept away.” “ And ' yet you talk of compensations ?'’ Gladys aaid wonderingly. “ And yet I am sure there are compensations,” came the firm response. “ For a time—for much too long a time—l drifted. But gradually l began to see that we must stand up to life, not crawl into furrows and stay chere. And peace has come.” His eyes dreamily watched the sunshine slip from the grass, and gleam for a moment on a corner of the Cloisters. before the light faded and a uniform greyness fell upon the whole quiet spot. “ Now 1 am going to make a suggestion to you.” Allerton began briskly. as they walked on out of the Cloisters and skirted the moat round the Bishop’s Palace. “T have been .vskeel to write a book about mediaeval Danchester. and as I already have a good deal of work on hand, I find it very hard to give all the time T would like to research. It suddenly occured to me that you might possibly like to help me with this, if by chance you are a Latin scholar?” “ A scholar -no !” Gladys laughed. “ But mv brother insisted that T should be educated like a boy, and so my education was more or leas on cl as •deal lines. I have an average knowledge of Ij«.tin, and know a certain amount of Greek. And if I really could help you with research work it would be a. most tremendous interest. If Mrs Chalmers can spare me—T must add that, because she has been so very good to me.” “The fact that she is so very good to you will make her spare you.” Alleiton said cheerily. “ And you won’t find research work is any hindrance to you in whatever further literary work you undertake; on the contrary, it will all help.” Not only did Afrs Chalmers put no obstacles in Gladys’s way, she warmly tvelconied A Her ton's suggestion, saying it was exactly like him to make it. “ He has hie own original methods of .solving problems and facing difficulties, his or other people's.” the old iady said shrewdly. “ Maurice Allercon is a good friend.” Gladys was able to echo that sentiment. and her research work for the scholar soon began to bring her a. very real, if tempered enjoyment. The atmosphere of the big library wa.s soothing, there was enough hardness in the work itself to give it a zest, and Allerton’s warm commendation when she pleased him was most stimulating. It was on an afternoon, a week or so before Christinas, as she sat absorbed in a MS. in Monkish. Latin, difficult to decipher, that. Allerton came into the library followed by a man many years younger than himself and singularly handsome. “ f have brought Mr Dalkeith to work at that capitulary wp dealt- with last week,” he said. “Miss Burnaby is most kindly helping me with ray work,” he added, introducing the two young people. “ And she is getting quite a grip of some of these obscure documents.” In the stranger’s dark eyes, as they looked at Gladys, there was a gleam of s< mething which she could not quite define. Was it amusement or scorn—or merely a reflection, of the bitterness which was written in every line of his handsome features? “ Miss Burnaby is clever indeed if she gets a grip of some of these things in Monkish Latin,” Dalkeith answered, and Gladys thought she could deteat a faint contempt in hia tones. “Mediaeval documents hardly seem to come within a young lady’s province.” The half-contemptuous words brought a flush to Gladys’s face, and her eyes flashed. ** The province of the modern young woman covers a good many acres,” she retorted. “ We are not limited to embroidery frames and still rooms. I believe you were going to answer ‘ more’s the pity.’ ” she added, with an irrepressible laugh. “You would like to keep us within bounds.” “ Perhaps I should.” he said grimly. “ I have no wee ” But here Allerton intervened. *• My dear boy, I didn’t bring you up here to give us your views on modern womanhood, instructive though they may be. 1 think this old friend of mine, Hugh Dalkeith, will be able to help us both.” He turned to Gladys. “He has just come back from Paris, where he has been diving into MSS. of a like description.” (To be ooni in tied!.