THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9019, 4 January 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

CHAPTER I. THE TROUBLING OF THE WATERS. "After your experience of the pomp and {-litter of life in the outer world 1 wonder that you should be content to come back to Hjdaton," said Philip Warren. "After your experiences of the humdium life of iludsion 1 am equally surprised that you should be content to remain in it," retorted Mavjorie .Neyland. "But you are a woman, to whom, being a woman, fashion ; an 3 society are breath and heart's blood. You are, to say the least, out of place here, and in an inn." '"And you, if you were half the man you lock, wou'd refuse to pass the great days of youth poring over musty volumes at a vicarage." "I do nothing of the sort. One has unoccupied hours, of course, which certain of my acquaintances employ more robustly, but there is no man in Hudston who pursues sport with greater zest than myself. Do you believe I should be master of the Ure Valley Otter Hounds if I were the mere bookworm you think me?" "I see," said Marjorie, pretending to be much impressed. "How stupid of me!" "But why 'stupid?' That word surely does not apply, since you have not lived long enough in Hudston." "Sorry," she cried, dropping, her eyes. "I mmte the mistake of imagining that advice suitable for the goose might be reasonably good for the gander." Philip Warren laughed. He caught his pretty companion by the hand to help her over a stile which he had vaulted lightly. "A fair hit, Marjorie," be admitted. "But don't let us quarrel. That ia a rustic form or flirtation, an unpardonable thing." He did not notice the quick smile which lit the girl's face. It was on the tip of her tongue to offer some comment, but she forebore and pressed up the path which rose steeply in front in silence for a few moments. Though she had not known Philip Warren many days, and his character was somewhat of a sealed book to her, a book rarely illuminated and couched in a script at once scholarly and elegant, she had an intuitively accurate glimpse of its nature. He was not as other men. His very appearance held in it a complex suggestion of the study and the veldt. In ten years' time, if unmarried, this stalwart youth might be either a recluse, engaged in collecting first edi? turns, or a leader of some desperate enterprise of commerce or empire in a land as yet unknown. I

Marjorie sighed, and not because of the stress of the bill. In fact, the thougnt occurred to her that Philip Warren ought to choose a career before he chose a wife. When she spoke again, she broached a le?s persona! topic. "You have not yet told me why we are going to Fermell's Tower," she said, glancing at a squat, grey stone tower which crowned the low hill a hundred yard.-} away. "No; how could cne think of antiquity when one saw such a dainty maid approaching? I deemed you the Spirit of the Heather, it seemed to me that the gracious moorland had suddenly transmuted its radiant charm into the form of a girl in a tweed dress and a tam-o-shanter. I suppose your artistic training is responsible for that touch of vivid colour? It reminds rue of Turner's basket of oranges on a Thames b'.rge." "Well, I like that!" cried she, purposely misunderstanding him, though the light which leaped to her eyes when she bent her head showed that her own words were not without a double significance. "I spoke first of the individual, then of the trick," he said severely. "You are frivolous to-day, my lady." ".i pray your pardon, my lord. But: you are to blame. 1 asked you, in all gravity, who was Fennell and why did he have a Tower?" "Fennell was a mere accident, a misanthropic bumpkin who lived there for years, and thus achieved the immortality of the Ordnance Map. The Tower, more correctly known as a broch, was built by the .Romans, or, at any rate, the present structure marks the site of a fortified camp on the old Roman read from Dunsley to York. Its more recent purpose was to house the watchmen who gave warning of a border foray to the dale-dwellers. Its present use will be to serve as a centre whence I can lecture you on the antiquities of the Vale of Ure." Though Marjorie, strange to say, was interested, lectures of that sort are apt to be dull to other people. So more may be learnt of the lives and fortune.-* of thr>se who were destined to play leading parts in the strange drat't'i which the remote Yorkshire villa,-. ■ of Mudston was then preparing fur ...'ie stage of reality, if heed be paid u another conversation held on that same moor a few days later. A man and a woman w?;re standing near a clump of sombre fira on the other side of the valley to that commanded by Fennell's Tower. The n-.aii had the air and resemblance of ar. arhto.'r.-ii;; the woman a'hs a curiously cuiintvitied and coarsened copy, of Marjorie Neyland. She was, in fa?fc, her elder sifter, and in sharp contrast with Marjorie's habitual good-hUmour, Hannah Meyland was in a had temper, which she did not srruple t'< express either in word or manner. And the talk was of her Ki.-'(er,toi. "She ha.-ioiily come here to upset the whol* phcrf," rfiiid she, viciously j stabbing a ho' % e in the turf with her ]

By ROBERT FRASER.

[Published By Special Aruangement.] [All Rights Reserved.]

umbrella-tip. "She might have stayed where she was in London, studying her' Art,' and not been missed, I'm sure! But from the day she put her foot back in Hudston, everybody seems to have taken leave of their senses " "Did you ever happen to hear of a certain Helen of Troy?" asked James Courthope, fingering the end of his blonde beard. "I've heard the name, I think," answered the frowning Hannah. "Who was she?" "A young lady with a classic nose, Hannah, and no doubt a naughty little fire in the corner of her eye; and because of these, a city was sacked, and many souls of heroes were sent down to —you know where. It isn't an unusual thing. But we don't want that going on at Hudston on the Yorkshire moors, do we? Why the deuce couldn't your aunt leave Miss Marjorie to pursue her bright career in the wilds of Bayswater, without bringing her j here upon us all in this way?" "Well, Marjorie is my sister," pouted Hannah, ready to quarrel on any pretext. "I don't want to say anything against her, seeing that I'm five years older than she " ■ "How many years?" asked James Courthope, bending towards her with a smile. "Five or six," said Hannah. "Something like that; she is just twenty-one." "Ah, I thought it couldn't be eight," purred the man. "Yet your mother toldme eight." "Mother did. . . . ? Mother has far too much to say, if you ask me. But that's neither here nor there. I only meant that lam Marjorie's sister, and don't want to go against her, though she'd put mischief into a saint with her airs and graces. I'm not a bad sort. I call anybody to witness that J was glad to see her when she arrived, though I hadn't seen her for so long that I could hardly be expected to have quite a sister's feelings; but I was prepared to make the best of my fine lady, till I found out that the Greyhound Hotel isn't good enough for her. And her sister isn't good enough, her father and mother, and even Aunt Margaret, who's done all for her, are no equals of hers. Look here!—but I won't say any more." "You will presently," said Courthope, with his soft voice and irritating smile. "That is one of the reasons why I admire you, Hannah, because you do say things." "Admire me, is it?" was the retort. ■ "That is what you tell me, but people are saying now that it isn't only the other two who are crazy in love with Marjorie, but you as well. It is all the talk in the village that on Wednesday, when she went out for her early morning walk, you followed her half a mile down Hewersfield Lane and over the moor, for Mike Malcolm saw you, and kept an eye on you, and now everybody is saying " "You are not to believe any such, nonsense, Hannah," her companion broke in with a sudden sharpness. "You know that it is a case of you first with me. Why, you are quite as nice as Marjorie, in your way! I am sure the little parcel must envy that fine figure of yours, and though you may be two or three years the elder, take you feature by feature, i and you are her image—you dark, , of course, and she fair—but the I , same fine profile, the same sweet mouth, showing all the pretty teeth ' when you laugh, the same dimpled ■ chin " "Hark at this!" laughed Hannah, ( though pleased enough for the instant, "he wants to make out now ' that lam a beauty like Marjorie. ■ la that it?" i "Feature for feature," said Court- I hope; "of course, your sister is ex- , ceedingly elegant——" "Is she? Can't see it myself," murmured Hannah. ' "Well, a bit stylish-certainly—-from the male point of view, as either Philip Warren or my good cousin Robert would tell you; 'but, for my taste, give me the dark type! Hannah is the girl for my money." (( "Oh, as for you," said Hannah, "one never knows whether you are mocking or in earnest." "Wait until lam Squire Courthope, and see whether Hannah, the innkeeper's daughter, does not become a great lady." (To be continued).