THE CHRISTMAS GIFT.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17223, 14 December 1923, Page 13

THE CHRISTMAS GIFT.

By KATHERINE TYNAN. j» t (All Rights Reserved.) The poor Be«*t sat alone and lonely \ in his castle. At least that was how he * put it in his own thoughts. Very few T people would have thought of calling s the Squire of Branksome a Beast; in deed, no one would. His face wa-> r beautiful where he sat in his wheeled chair. Only, of course, he had been so v terribly smashed up. It would have * been a shame to tie Beauty to such a ( poor helpless Beast. That is what he was saying to himself as he eat in the winter twilight. Before he had been so terribly in iured, in that incredible world where t.ad run and walked and played games and enjoyed the activities of life like other men. he had been in loro with Beauty—Pamela Wynter. Such a brave, honest Beauty 1 No wonder f Terry Rawlinson. his bosom friend. S;‘J i been m love with her too, and she hail laughed at both of them and been kind to both of them and bewildered them t with her charm and frankness and gaiety. , Then, with matters still undecided, j bad come the crash. He was out of th© j active things of life for ever. As soon as he had come out of the headaches and the blinding pain and < the smell of drugs and antiseptics, he had realised what it was going to mean 4 to him beyond the disablement. He and Terry had not loved each , other less for being in love with the ] same girl: they had had a silent un demanding that they would abide by j Pamela's decision. Now that was all , over. He was out of it. He could not hare borne Pamela s pity , he had an , idea that it might carry her to uncom • mon lengths. He was not going to give , up Terry There were things he could do for him to make it easier for him ( to marry Pamela. When he had grown used to the idea, when they were mar- , Tied, he might, see his friend again. He had only just come back to the comfort and quietness of hia own house, to his books, his clogs, his attached servants. He had friends and neighbours They would come to welcome him home. Ho winced as he thought of those eyes averted from the twisted Ihnha in the wheeled chair. He would grow used to it in time. Perhaps in time he jnighi» come to accept Pamela's compassion. She had been in India when the thing happened to him. and she had written. He had the letter still. Since he had come back to doing some things at least for himself, he had carried that i letter in the breast pocket of his coat Tt was in a leather case now to keep it • from crurobliM away. Very often when he was alone ne would take it out and [• read it. It was beginning to go at the ; folds, and it craved careful handling. A dear letter, full of a frank and lov Vang compassion. He had read between the lines. Dear Pamela—she was offering herself to him. ‘‘All she could ► give.’* “ There was nothing she would not do.” “He had but to cable and tehe would come.” Oh, dear Pamela ! Brave Pamela ! .Tier tears were in the letter. He had inot answered it for a long time. "When Ihc had done so, he had steadfastly re •Jfused to see the meanings that glanced at him out of the letter. What- a dolt! i\Vhat a blockhead, she must think him 2 Slut that too generous impulse would have passed. Imagine Beauty chained for life to an invalid couch. It would be Beauty and the Beast,indeed. He feaw himself down a dwindling succes fcion of sickly years. She was so active. Jsh© ran like Atalanta. She danced like fc wavo of the sea. She excelled in -all games of outdoor life. Oh, he would bare been a Beast indeed if he had accepted that loving offer of herself. T/ren the Beast in the story had had inore magnanimity than that. She had not answered the cold letter. Tie could see her dear face falling when fche read it. But there was Terry to Console her. Terry was a aubaltern in *tho regiment commanded by her bro-ther-in-law, Colonel Richards. Bv this •time, before this time, she would be iwith her sister and Terry would be consoling her for whatever hurt he .bad inflicted. He had written to Terry long ago, in There had been an implicit understanding that they were sound together to Pamela—her knights. He remembered Terry’s wistful glances at him when they were together, before Terry was sent out to India. Terry had so little to offer compared with Denys Jeudwine. Denys, remaining behind, had not taken his chance with Pamela ; it was Denys’s way. Thee Pamela had suddenly decided to visit her two sisters in India. Denys had a secret conviction that Pamela went to test her own heart. And then the crash had come, and Denys Jeudwive was out of it. He could only make it possihle for Pamela and Terry to be happy together. That letter, to which he had not had an answer, had cai ried a wonderful message to Terry, who had been talking of resigning hi- commission and getting some employment which would afford him a living wage. He was not going to have :i living wage which would include keeping a wife in the army for many a long day. Deny© had found a solace during those autumn days when happiei men were shooting and riding to iioui.ds—he could hardly endure the sound of the huntsman’s horn and the glimpses of starlet as the hunt filed by between the hedges which his windows overlooked--in his plans for Terry—and tor Pamela. They need not wait now endlessly, as they must have waited but for him. Terrv was not going tc refuse what his brother-in-hlood had dene for him. even though he had not answered the letter. It was very lonely in the big house *>t Christmas-tim * The servants were going to have all the revels this year. Ho had had a thought of opening Branknomc to certain poor and homeless people this Christmas. hut he was not sure that he was equal to it. so be had sent them cheques instead, generous cheques which would make the poor souls happv. He would have no company this Chiidmas beyond the company of th° <logs. Tt wris the company least likelv to hurt him in bis present stat? r.f mindThere was Da»h. the clumber spaniel. stretched out on the hearthrug, turning on him one deep sleepy eye of devotion, as thoi gh he understood his master's thoughts. There was little Lassie. the cairn. sitting in a chair hesjde the fire her eyes also watching him through the tangle of hair. After all. ’t wa* good to have the dogs. They never failed a man- And the doctors bad given him seme hope that his legs might yet recover their grir> sufficiently to og *bout the countryside on a very quiet h**»r«e no more dangerous delights of hunting or riding hard for him But if he could onlv just feel a horse under him. even if it was to he like riding in an arm-chair! He sighed so deeply that Dash with an answering sigh got up. came to him and laid his head on his master's knees, while Lassie jumped up to her place there and licked his face. The dark was gening in the long beautiful room. No one came to replenish the fire, or turn on the light. Ho demanded too little of his servants and thej* neglected bint. He turn'd his chair carefully in the direction of the nr a rest hell. He had pot yet grown sufficiently used to the thine: which -cried him as legs to employ it caret-s?>y. It would be

horrible if it turned over and pinned / him underneath it. | It was terrible this helplessness, that he could not even put coal on the fire without calling a servant. Ho had seen manv doctors urd they had bidden him be patient. With patience and treatment the atrophied muscles might regain something of life. The servant who came in answer to his call sent him a compassionate glance. He weif i\ good laa, new to th* place and apt to forget his duties now and then in the rich life of the servants* hall. “ Sorry, Sir!” Tie srfid- “I didn t notice the dark \uis falling.” “ Never mind. James. T didn't want the light sooner,” Denys Jeudwine replied. The new footman blinked a little. “1 am sure I am ac.rry to see you. air,” he said, ceasing for a moment to be the machine. “It do seem sad to see you aittin’ there patient, day in and day out.” “ Thank you. James,” Denys Jeudwine Raid. “ It is very"kind of you.” The tall young man, red to the ears with the effort of speaking, turned on the light, put a log on the fire and drew the curtains. He came hack from the door with a fresh thought. “ I might wheel vour chair a little nearer the paper-table sir.” he said. “ You’ll be wanting to read, maybe.” Deny* Jeudwine did not want to read, but lie let the boy have his way. It was not in him to repel kindness. He thought., with a half-hitter recognition of the fact, that his own footman pitied him. They all pitied him. Old Simon Bates, one of the oldest farmers on the estate, who had coni'* to see him earlier in the day, had wished him awkwardlv a Merry Christmas, and had immediately discovered his mistake. “ We do miss you on huntin’ mornin’s, Squire,” he had said, as he went out. Denys remembered the wish as he sat in the wheeled chair in the beautiful room which was one of the glories of Branksome. at the gilding and tooling of the hooks shining out of all the dark recesses; at the pictures.j the busts above the bookcases; th© gilt and painted ceiling. The luxury of the room stifled him. It was built for silence and repose. Thick walls, de©p. soft carpet*, heavy curtains. The wind sighed in the chimney. It was going to snow it had been very cold all He had heard Saladin whining in the stall that morning when he was being lifted like a log into the carriage for his daily jog-trot. when, despite, the rugs, he felt the icy cold through the dead weight of his legs. Saladin had been brought from the stable, and had run to him like a child, nuzzling th© lqpg, beautiful head into his breast. What mornings they had had when he and had gone, riding together! He saw himself down the vista of the years, growing heavy and old, because all day he must lie or sit like a log. He had no great belief in th© doctors’ hopes fm him. They had been pulling him about so much and he had been carried over so many leagues of land and sea to s«© this or that specialist. He could wish he was done with it. What good was all this to him. The great house and the possessions and the beautiful rooms, he who was going to be wifeless and childless. Terry and Pamela ought to have it. How well thev would look in this dim, rich room; he so tall and fair, she mignonne, brown-haired and violeteyed, with a skin like milk and a slen-der-young body. He was torturing himself, pressing his heart on the thorn as the night ingale is supposed to do. Terry and Pamela would have met by now. If it had hot been for the accursed accident he would have been with the battalion in India. They had been so gay-yhe and Terry and Pamela together. They l ad never allowed lov© to come tween their happy relations. He could hear Pamela laugh He covered his face with his hands. He was the Beast. He could see himself growing sallower and more fretted every day. And Terrv was so debonair. Terrr had not written. Perhaps he was ashamed of having Pamela for his own when poor Denys was out of it. He was sorry now that the lights were all on. There was a glare that hurt his eyes. Presently James would be bringing him tea, the tea which he would hardly touch. They were such creatures for routine, servants. Everyday there came up the same array of sandwiches and toast and hot cakes, as though he did not always send them avrav untouched. * V He said to himself suddenly that he was leading too solitary a life. The neighbours would come if he encouraged them. He had not encouraged them, dreading the pitv in their eyes, and they had been kind ; they had understood and kept away, showing their sympathy bv small attentions of one kind or another without intruding He must face it ; he was too solitary. He threw hack his head with a sudden motion that forgot tlie back of the chair and that- he was an invalid and should he careful of sudden jerks. He was growing stronger, he felt it with that jerk .though it hurt him. He was not a Beast o r a god to he solitary. He had better let his friends come as they were kindly willing to do. Tt > had not been so had when his thoughts were blurred, before the pain had just become a dullness. He wondered if the Vicar and Mrs Norton would dine with him on Christmas Day! He liked Airs Norton, a flattering. pretty, girlish creature. They might; and there was Peter Chapman, a solitary too. but a wise, friendly one. He could not sit down w itli ghosts when Christmas came and it wanted but two days to Christmas. Mrs Norton had looked on at the old companionship of three, at him and . Pamela and Terry, with laughing eves She and Pamela had been fond of each : other. He wondered if Mrs Norton had heard from Pamela. ; She was pretty sure to have heard. ’ Wasn’t Carrots, the youngest hut one • at the Vic*rage, aged three. Pamela's godchild,? He began to manoeuvre his I rhair towards the writing table. He , would write to Airs Norton at once ami 1 down a messenger with the note. They would surely take pitv on him Suddenly lie heard the hall-door hell. James must have left the door of the f library opeu for the sound to come in s 80 clearly. There was an impatience ? m the sound, he thought. a S tbougn r someone rariie * ‘ with some strange. z wonderful news to tell.” He rememr bered that occurring in a poem he had r read. There w*s the noise of an arri--8 val downstairs, the doors opening and 8 I putting, feet ascending the stairs. could be coining op this cold, dark afternoon? Someone for tea! Well. r for once the good tea would not be a wasted. Someone must have rememr bered him and taken pity on his solitude. h He looked expectantly towards the a door which opened slowly. Who came in. but—oh ! he must be dreaming! e hut Pamela Pamela whom li© had thought to be half a world away! g She cam© in a though with a sud- >- den rush, like a wind. In her furs she was warm and glowing as a rose. It ** was as though heaven 11ad opened ! She came straight to him with an air as though she had rushed over lands and 1 seas. There was a little snow on her * coat, her hair. e * She was so beautiful that she dazzled

him. Tie put out his hands as though to keep her away. ‘‘You don’t know ” he said. “I am just the remnant of a man. Oh ! my angel. ’ ’ She was down on her knees beside him, taking his head into her arms, pillow ing it on her young, warm breast. ‘ Oh. my dear!” she said. “ I have come a-s quickly as T could I would have come before and hung round waiting for permission to see you. only they would not let me Aladge and Nell kept me.; and even Terry thought 1 might do harm if too soon. But I had to come for Christmas. T could not wait any longer. I arrived at the Vicarage half an hour ago, and Edith drove me over here at once. I could not wait a second longer. ’ “ But.” he said, in a voice of amazed felicitv. “ you know 1 am broken up all to pieces, my dear, not fit for you. And there is Terry ! It is wonderful to see vou. but you must not mistake compassion for love. You must go hack to and be happy with him.”

[ “Terry.” she repeated after him. I “ but there never was Terrv in that | way. Of course 1 love Terry,' but there never was anyone, only you. Terry I knows. He sent you the most loving i Denys Jeudwine looked round the j room in happy bewilderment. Was ■ this the same room in which he had i been desolate such a little while ago j too! Praying that he might not live to grow middle-aged and old in this place. Seeing in it not himself, but Terry and Pamela and their children. It was too wonderful ! Pamela was holding him in her arms. The satin of her cheek was against his. He smelt the fragrance of her hair. “ You won’t send rue a wav Denvs,” she was whispering. - Don’t ‘you know that I have come to you over lands and seas. I never had any doubt. Only one who was quite sure could have done it.” •• Semi you away!” he repeated after her. “Why, I should he shutting the door of Paradise. And so Terry has

sent you to me. Good bless Terry. Only, my dear love and lady it is monstrous that T should let you stay. So beautiful a thing as you chained to my wheeled chair. I ought to tell you to go. It is the tale of Beauty and the Beast.” She closed his lips with her kisses. “ Why you are beautiful," she said. Don't you know you are beautiful—and beloved. As for those poor legs, they will get well. There are such won ! derful cures. We will leave nothing untried. “ The doctors thought the muscles might recover,' he conceded. “ Now with vour coming I feel the dead awake in me. I may yet be a little like other men. If I am not. . . “ If you are not you will still be the only man for me. Oh. Denys, you should have known. Terry knew. Evervone knew but vou. It was too chill of vou, Denvs" -Yes, I know it was,” he said, laughing at her complaining voice. " Only you see, how could I think it

[ was me when Terry was in love with you too. And I thought my Christmas was going to be so lonelv.” You see I was your Christmas gift," she said. “ Y'opr Christmas gift—corning over the seas and lands through the night, and the ran and the wind." He hid his face in her hair. He felt the strength, the virtue of her young body passing into his. With sudden energy he lifted her head from where it lay. " Aly Christmas gift.” he repeated. " I feel as if I could throw this old chair away and run with the soundest. That will come, my dear. Oh, my dear! God has sent me the best Christmas gift that ever came to man since the .. .