The Marriage of Celia

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20276, 10 April 1934, Page 14

The Marriage of Celia

Author of “Joan Falrlle's Cross-roads,” “The Blark Bretrayal,” “Love’s Tangle,” etc.

CHAPTER IV. It instances the irony of life that while Airs. Conor watched for him on the road Robert should be in his room. He had gone thither with the cardtable batch, which included Sanna and Major Joicey, and had not switched his light on. Had lie done so, Mrs. Conor would not have kept vigil, and probably nay, almost certainly—there would be no story to tell. Our ignorances, the veriest trifles of mischance, are the tools Destiny uses to shape our ends. In semi-gloom Robert meditated upon the morning’s ordeal, feeling that he could confront a firing squad more heroically than he could Celia’s mother. She would demand reasons, and his reason was not for her to' hear. Let her think what ahe pleased, revile him as lie apparently deserved to be reviled, he must release Celia, whom lie loved, to part from whom required an effort of will verging on the superhuman. “I do it for her sake,” lie muttered, his lips ashen. “It is my duty as I sec it.” Yet he had no fault to find with her, and none of the excuses common to such cases fitted him. His past was clean; no woman had a prior claim upon him. Physically and mentally he was sound, his family record untainted. Xor had he committed a crime or suffered a reverse of fortune. He wished his reason were any of these instead of the fantastic thing it was—a thing to provoke Mrs. Conor to bitter merrinjent and the taunt that he had strained liU inventive powers. He was confident that lie had won Ce.ia’s love and been accepted for himself, not for his money and position. He believed he was going to inflict great pain on Celia, but for her sake he must be stoical, seem callous. Some other man would help her to forget. She was so young and blithe, so radiant, he had no right to spoil her springtime. “I should have thought of that sooner,” he said, big hands clenched tightly on his knees, eyes staring at the blotter on the table. “I was carried away, swept off my feet on a flood-tide of happiness which made the world different, made me different. I’ve been a boy with Celia, back to the old years when life was glorious, when it was joy only to live and breathe. I’ve tasted sweetness incredible, and with the taste strong on my lips this comes again to mock me. It’s been here since this morning—in my room—in me. God! What will the end be?” Sweat oozed on his face. He leant over one of the window sills, craving air. “I’ve been walking for hours,” he went on in the same flat-toned, low voice, apeaking to himself because he felt the need of speech. “It’s good to walk by the sea and get the salt wind of it into one, purifying every corner. I’m dogtired, but better, fresh inside as a cleansed leper. I could kiss Celia now and not be afraid of con tain ina ting her. There’s a contamination outlie spirit I’d be afraid of—for her. She’s sensitive to atmosphere. She’d feel mine at a time like this, droop in it. wither. Why didn’t I think before I spoke to her of love? Who am I to love Celia?” His mind reverted to the letter he had written. Ay a t me,” he ruminated. Alac wdi blame me and say I behaved selfishly. It wasn't selfishness just forgetting to remember, as he’d phrase, it. His reply will be straight hitting from the shoulder, but when he’s done pommelling me he’ll pour balm into mv wounds. And life’ll suggest a wav to compensate Mrs. Conor for her injury, quite delicately, not to ruffle her Irish pride, poor, dear woman. She’s a pluckv soul. She'd endure anything to spare Celia one pang, but who wouldn't who loved Celia? Oh, my darling girl. Robert Lennox would give you his life if that could benefit you, and all he can do is to gi-ve you your freedom without settine tongues wagging, and make life casieTfor your mother and you, if you’ll permit him. r He gripped his chin and vowed the Beverley crowd should get no inkling of the rupture. Tile Conors Were nearin'the termination of their holiday. Their departure would occasion no gossip, and he would leave immediately after, to join Mac at Bed Craigs and'arrange his Lq i*V* < ! ourße * l ,e Highland estate must be left m charge ot caretakers. He would never make it his home. Home was wherever a man’s wife and children weie, and for him the future was barren of domestic ties. _. T, he ™ eanes , t cottar on liis lands, blest vl and child, was richer than lie. As he drew his head in and flexed liiseuff muscles the tower clock chimed the hour °f midnight, and he heard the lilt on road a,n the - vouths Their flamboyant gaiety, more affecting than a dirge, weakened his selfcontrol His firm mouth sagged, quivered. He had to pull himself together sternly. “Robert,” he muttered, “don’t be a d d f ° ol till you’ve plavcd the scoundrel to a trusting girl and taught r her to hate von. Then vou’ll have abundant leisure to dree your weird.” He flicked the electric switch, put his boots Oil the mat, and went to bed, but, m spite of weariness, he slept badjv, dreaming and tossing, awaking to lie in a half stupor pierced with impinging i egrets that he had taken Mac’s prescription of a seaside sojourn to banish depression. Jumping up, he mixed a sedative, also of Mac’s prescribing. It composed him, wafted him soothingly into dreamless regions, but not for long. Early in the, morning a subdued, continuous knocking/ roused him. His door was the objective of the assault. He opened to the hotel manager, standing in the passage, fullv dressed and in a state of extreme agitation. J Sorry to disturb you. Air, Lennox,” Glover whispered. “The police below, and I want you to come down as quietly as possible. Alajur Joicey isn’t far off. and I’d rather he wasn't fussing around, talking and hampering us.” “The police! What’s amiss?” i “A peck of trouble, in the height of, | the season, too, with chronic grumi biers amongst us aching for fault to find. It’s a deplorable affair. I wish you’d hurry.” “I’ll be down in a jiffy,” said Robert, surmising that a burglary had occurred. “Thank you, Mr. Lennox. I won’t, linger, or we’ll have the Alajor astir.” i Glover retreated on tintoe, and Robert speedily followed him. At the stair-foot a police . officer saluted and conducted Lennox to a cloak room, where another officer and a couple of civilian strangers were with the manager. “This is the gentleman to*

By

MADGE BARLOW.

whom the lady's daughter is engaged,” said Glover, introducing him. Leading Robert to a divan on which was stretched a figure shrouded in a grey gauze scarf, he drew the scan from the face. “Airs. Conor, sir. Discovered by the roadside, a stone’s throw from the gates, not ten minutes ago.” “111?” queried Robert, in his first shocked surprise. “Dead,” replied Glover.* “Here’s the doctor,” said one of the strangers. The doctor’s examination was brief. “She has been dead several hours,*’ he pronounced. “There’ll have to be an inquest?” the manager inquired. “Yes, naturally. Had she been ailing?” “Only yesterday, when she complained of heat headache.” “I had four cases of heat prostration in town yesterday. It often has fatal results where there is cardiac weakness or disease. She shouldn’t have been alone.” “Our hall porter saw no sign of her when he locked up for the night, and the doors were looked this morning as lie left them,” said Glover, his perturbation increasing. “She must have gone out before we shut the hotel, and if she’d knocked to be let in the porter would have heard her, for he sleeps convenient. Aliss Conor couldn’t have known. Aliss Conor’s room is on the attic flat.” “The coroner will elicit all particulars,” answered the doctor. Into the centre of the group came Sanna Pereirale. Her eyes glanced at the shell of Airs. Conor, and were instantly averted. Her hair hung in a thick plait to her waist, and she wore an intriguing Japanese kimono and bedroom slippers edged with ewansdown. Going close to Robert, she addressed the group collectively. “I heard voices, and knew something was wrong. This is a very dreadful thing. Air. Lennox and I. and Alajor Joicey and others went upstairs between ten and eleven last niglit, and Airs. Conor must have been in her room then, for her lights were on and her door slightly ajar. I went direct to the attic flat to bid Celia good-night, and she was in bed; said her mother felt poorly and was retiring. I stayed about a quarter of an hour, and on returning to my own bedroom, near Airs. Conor’s, saw that the lights were extinguished and the door shut. She must have gone out while I was with Celia.” “Who will tell Celia?” Robert groaned. “I will,” said Sanna, her cool fingers grasping his. He looked his gratitude. “I am your friend and hers,” she murmured. That sent Robert’s thoughts flying to Alac, most invaluable of true and tried friends, and the instant the post office opened he dispatched a telegram to Colin McHaffie at Red Crags. (To be - continued daily,),