THE STORYTELLER

Waikato Times, Volume 96, Issue 15864, 8 December 1923, Page 14 (Supplement)

THE STORYTELLER

(Author of "Henry of Navarre," "A Maid of Brittany," etc.)

[All Rig-Ms Reserved.l Gran:

Synopsis of Instalment 1. Returning from a holiday, Hilton Grasleigh, son of the Squire of Rawntree, discovers Peggie Lanyard, one of the family newly arrived at the Grange, protecting Ben Roldane, the village idiot, from the hands of the local loafers. Hilton is fascinated with her, and learns from her that some mystery surrounds her family, the nature of which she is unaware. Arriving at the Manor, Hilton is told his father has but a short, time to live, that the mortgage on the estate, about to fall due, cannot he raised, and that he can save the old home by marrying his rich cousin, Ann Burrington. He reluctantly consents, proposes to and is accepted by Ann, though there is no love on either side. Seeking solitude, he goes for a long moorland walk, and discovers Peggie in imminent danger on the brink of a high waterfall. CHAPTER HI. Peggie's eyes were turned towards the speaker. She had not heard what be said. Here, amidst the thunder of waters, she was deaf to all other sound, but she saw Tony spring towards the slope find begin to climb with a purpose which told its own talc. The girl stood still where she was. Death had seemed inevitable a few seconds ago. Now possible deliverance was at hand. She roused from her slupor of fear and her natural courage came back to her aid. She no longer felt that, she must sink forward into that scethipg torrent. True she had scarcely foothold where she stood, the rock was smooth and slippery, she had discovered that the leap to the next boulder was impossible, and she dared not trust herself to turn back. Rigid she stood, watching the man who climbed regardless of breaking soil or the raining of loose stones and earth upon his head. Peggie felt it was like some gallant knight of old coming to the help of his lady, and her lips parted in a wondering smi'e. Fear had gone, she could trust this friend of hers to save her.

Yet at the very moment when he stood on a level with her she was nearly precipitated into the torrent. The current swirled strongly round her rock, covering it with water, her skirts clung wetly round her ankles. "Steady," reiterated Tony.

She looked towards him and this time it was Tony himself who was In jeopardy! He swung round on the first of the stepping stones and regained his balance. It was a ticklish job.

Peggie saw the danger and her own fear for hirn matched his for her. The paralysis seemed to leave her limbs, she managed to spring lightly back on to the rock she had quitted an hour before. , "No," shouted Tony, "don't risk it. You might—" The thunder of the falls drowned his speech, but there was no need for Peggie to hear. Even as she swayed, heating the air with helpless hands, Tony had her in his arms and bore her swiftly back to the bank. Did he bold her a minute longer than was necessary? If so, what did that minute mean to them both? He held her fast, rescued from a death which even now sounded mockingly in their ears. He held her close and realised what had happened. The little French witch had cast her spell. He loved her. The next minute he remembered Ann, and let Peggie slip gentJy to the ground. She was very pale and clung to a sapling near for support. Tony could not see her red eyes, for the fringe of dark lashes hid them. Did he guess her heart was beating as fast as his own? Did he know that she knew he did? Ann! Yes, Ann and his father. "It was lucky I came along," he said hoarsely, "what in the world made you try to commit suicide like that?" He spoke almost roughly, and Peggie rallied. That one marvellous minute had been a mistake. Suddenly the colour came back with a rush to her cheeks. "Because I was a little idiot, I suppose," she said, with the flimsiest attempt at gaiety, "and you saved my life. Are you always coming to the rescue like this? It is the second time, you know." And she raised her eyes to his. Black pools with smouldering fires. Tony steeled himself against such dire temptation. "I thought you would fall," he said. "You must have a splendid nerve." He spoke with a philosophy he was far from feeling. Peggie gave rather a shaky laugh. "It wasn't that," she said. "I was paralysed just like a bird that sees a snake, that horrible roar and those tumbling, mocking waters; they seemed to have a hundred arms wreathing up and stretching out to grasp me." She talked monotonously to "fill in" those moments of crisis which both were acutely aware of. Some force more powerful than the instinct of newly awakened love held them apart. It would have been natural for Tony to have had his arms still round that trembling little figure, natural for his kisses to rain on the small upturned face, natural for her to cling to him as to the protector she needed. Peggie herself was groping for the answer to a passionate—why not? And in her ignorance had jumped to a wrong conclusion. This man was future Squire of Rawntree — she was a stranger whom the inhabitants of Rawntree found it impossible to know. And Hilton himself was struggling between the temptation of yielding to inclination and the call of duty. He was engaged to Ann. He had brought case and consolation to his dying father by that promise which in this case was as sacred as the marriage bond itself. He had been positively startled to find -what a fire had'been kindled all in a minute by this brief episode. Now he drew back, needing all his strength to do so, yet wondering at himself as men do who have never thought much of love, and experience its force for the first time. "Let us go home," he said abruptly, "your shoes are soaked through and your dress too. You will catch cold." She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't care. I wouldn't care if—if I had pneumonia and died." Her lips trembled. "Don't," said Hilton, "I forbid you to talk such nonsense." They were retracing their steps

across the moor. The girl looked up askance, into the man's face and smiled. No —after all she did not want to die.

The walk home was a silent, one, at the Grange gates Peggie hailed. "Have I said 'thank you'?" she asked. "I forget. If you had not gone to Arisford Vails to-day I should have been drowned. Do you believe in predestination?" "No," said Tony shortly, "make haste and change your shoes. You are not to catch cold." He had hated to hoar her speak so recklessly of death. Bui as she ran up the drive and long after she was out of sight it seemed that she still stood looking up at him with those great black eyes so full of wistful pleading, and saying. "Do you believe in predestination? Do you believe in predestination?" ]f he had sad "Yes." would she have answered, "Then why did we meet?" He asked the same question himself, "Why did we meet?" He walked home glum and grim, not knowing that his mother had seen the parting at the Orange, gates. Mrs Grasleigh, however, had seen and suspected. Tony had said nothing of ever having mot the girl of the. Grange. Yet he had stood there holding both hor hands, and Tony's mother had passed near enough to nolice that ttie girl was exceedingly pretty.

Elinor Grasleigh was a proud an.i ambitious woman. Her nature was, cold as her life was blameless. And, if a fault could be laid to her account, it was the very common one of prefer-: ring her own way to anyone else's. She liked to manage for people, and, her kindly husband had given her wide scope in,this. She was as fond audi proud of the Manor as he, and poverty galled her. She very much wished! her son to marry Ann Burrington Well, he was going io do so. But) nme'knew better than Mrs Grasleigh] that the match was not a love one.j She also knew what, straws men be-| come when the passion of love's tide is high. That girl at the Grange was a dangerous type. Tony's mother went home, but, when her son appeared she showed no curiosity as to where he had been and asked no questions. Nor did Hilton give any information. But that evening at dessert the conversalion drifted round to the Grange. "I can't, think," said Mrs Grasleigh quietly, "why Mr Bornall let the place) to such undesirable tenants. It isj not fair on his neighbours." Tony flushed but said nothing, he did not wish to enter upon a discus- j sion about, the Grange folk! But Ann took Up the ball. Why not?" she asked. "I mean why are thev undesirable?" Mrs Grasleigh sipped her claret. "There is some mystery about them," she said, "I believe the girl's mother was a French woman of verydoubtful reputation, and the girl herself is an extraordinary little creature, not at all the sort of person that we should wish you to associate with, This was too much. Hilton pushed back his chair. "If I could get hold of one of these village scandalmongers who start such reports," said he, "I'd summons her for libel for the sake of example. \nn laughed mildly. "Why her? she asked, "I have known quite as many men gossips." "In this case," retorted Tony, who. was boiling with suppressed rage, "the object of the libel is a very pretty and; charming girl, fit to be the associate, of any one. Let's go out in the garden, it's quite hot in here." Elinor Grasleigh did not, accompany them, she was annoyed at a speech which had certainly put her in the wTong besides confirming her suspicions. , , . The little black eyed stranger had Hilton in the toils, and with supreme conviction as to the obtuseness and folly of a young man in love, Mrs Grasleigh told herself that it was time; for her to interfere if she did not wish her son to ruin himself with some adventuress. Tony was to marry Ann; common sense, business-like Ann, who would take care of Tony as she had taken care of his father and saved him from the fatal results or too much sfntiment and prodigality for which Graslcighs had always been famous. Esther—now the solitary maid at the mvsterious Grange—was so taken aback next day by the appearance of a lady visitor asking to see "Miss" Lanyard that she admitted her before beins able to frame an excuse. ""My lady don't see company," she grumbled, as she led the way to the. disused drawing-room, "but here's Miss Peggie. A lady to see you, Miss Peggie, on business." Mrs Grasleigh smiled conventionally as* she went forward to shake hands with the girl who had been seated on a huge pile of cushions strumming a guitar. "Not business," she explained, as the door closed sharply on old Esther, "just a neighbourly call to explain things." Peggie, momentarily embarrassed, laughed. She was in what Esther called one of her "wild cat" moods, and wanted badly to shock somebody. She knew Mrs Grasleigh by sight, and had her own opinion of that lady. "I was pretendirtg I was hi a harem," she said gaily, "just to see if eating Turkish delight and strumming all day could feel duller than this life of mine. I don't beieve it could! Do you like Turkish delight?" Mrs Grasleigh was taken aback. Was this "young lady of doubtful reputation" nothing more than a child? She looked thoughtfully at Peggie, and read defiance in the black eyes. "I'm afraid not," she replied, "I'm too old for sweets. I am sorry you are so dull. Of course, Rawntree is not gay at the best of times. You have lived abroad a great deal have you not?" "We have lived everywhere," declared Peggie flippantly, "but this is the dullest of all. People think we have the plague, but we don't mind. There is the garden." "I should have called," lied Mrs Grasleigh conventionally, "but my i husband is too ill to allow me to attend to social duties. Will you explain to Mrs Lanyard?" Peggie nodded. "Oh, yes," she replied, "please don't worry. Grannie hates visitors." "And of course," added Mrs Grasleigh, "my son being only just en-'

gaged to be married, finds his time much taken up by his fiancee." She was delighted to find she had hit the mark. The girl's piquant face suddenly paled and involuntarily she clasped her hands. "Engaged to be married?" she faltered. CHAPTER IV. "Yes." said Mrs Grasleigh; —apparently noticing nothing, "to his cousin. Of course, it was no surprise to us. They have known and cared for each other for years. Have you found any companions of your own age about hern, Miss Lanyard?" "No," replied Peggie, "I don't want to I like men best —they are not cats—but I don't trouble about, any one. Ah, here comes Grannie." Mrs Grasleigh, having fulfilled her mission, would far rather have escaped the second interview, but there was nc help for it, and she had to confess to herself that she was surprised to find in Mrs Lanyard quite as great a "grande dame" as herself. But, though Mrs Lanyard was perfectly polite and impervious to patronage, she made it quite clear that visitors were superfluous. "We shall not remain long at the Grange," she told Mrs Grasleigh with a frankness which she managed to rob of rudeness, "and at my time of life it is difficult to make new friends."

After this the Squire's wife found il easier to withdraw, beaming upon Peggie who had lapsed into grave silence after her grandmother's appearance.

"Tony ought to have told her himself of his engagement," thought Mrs Grasleigh, "I am very glad I called." But she did not mention the visit at home.

Hilton was now almost constantly in his father's room. He had a threefold reason for it. First his longing to be with one so dear till the end, also to escape from Ann and Peggie. Ann —and Peggie.

He had been furious at his mother's insinuations about the latter. The very idea of these miserable gossips blackening the character of that innocent child! He brooded over the calumny till, alas! all his good resolutions fizzled out of his finger ends, lie must go to the Grange again. Peggie might be hearing of these rumours and be made unhappy by them. As a matter of fact he made out a dozen excuses for going, not one of which was true. He simply went because he could not, keep away. Peggie was "not, at home," and Hilton would have gone off without seeing her had he not caught a glimpse of a red linen skirt amongst the shrubberies. He went in search and found her seated on a bank patiently teaching a pug dog to balance sugar on its nose.

She looked "different" somehow. The child had gone ,and rather worldweary little woman had taken its place. She showed no pleasure at Tony's appearance though she changed colour.

Hilton himself was in a curious mood. As he had walked to the Grange he had felt like "love against the world.'' Peggie made such a forlorn' little picture amongst a horde of back-biters, and even his father's ardent wish, the late of the Mario:', his own future, seemed HI tie compared with the longing to be Peggie's champion. He was rather non-plussed at sight of this bored young woman teaching a pug to beg- ' "I came to see you," he said. "You have not been to any of your old haunts lately." She had just balanced a lump of snow-white sugar on a wrinkled black nose. "Trust," she said, holding up her flfnger. The pug tumbled to all fours and defiantly ate his sugar. Peggie laughed and turned to Tony. "How do you know?" she asked. "Because," he said, "I have been to see." A note of mischief danced in her eyes. "Really?" she asked. "Did you spare all that time from your cousin? 7 ' He Hushed like any girl. "My cousin?" he queried. "Your fiancee. Why didn't you tell me you were engaged?" She was not the least conventional^ "I suppose," floundered Tony, "I did not think you would be interested." "No more I am. Not a bit. Engaged people are always dull. I suppose that's why you arc dull." "I didn't know I was." "You arc indeed. I ought to have guessed you were in love." "I'm not—," he began, then checked. He was indeed in love now—but not with Ann. Black eyes watched him narrowly. Peggie was as perplexed as he, but one fact remained. He had not denied his engagement. It was true. The faint hope with which she had buoyed herself faded. Ester had been right when once she had told Peggie long ago that all men were deceivers and the best of them not to be trusted. Tony Grasleigh had had such honest eyes—even now they looked honest when they were telling the biggest lie in creation. For. they said "I love you"—and he did not. "I shall never fall in love," she said irrelevantly, "it seems to be a stupid game. I would rather be a nice old maid and Drig here will be the fattest and wheeziest of pugs. Goodbye. I've got to go in and read to Grannie who is in bed. She's not really ill, but —no, I don't want to talk particularly to-day. It's awfully hot. I suppose you are shocked at the slang?" She talked very fast, bright spots of colour burning on her cheeks. Hilton was perplexed. He had hoped—but no, he was vexed that she should have learned of his engagement second hand, yet of course fchere was no secret about it—and she was not very interested. "Why should I be shocked?" he asked resentfully. Peggie was pulling flowers to pieces. "I don't know," she replied, "your mother is easily shocked, I am sure. She was shocked at me when she called the other day—l don't suppose she had ever met a girl like me bef/ore. She —she does not understand." "Nor do I," replied Hilton slowly, "do you mean my mother called at the Grange to see Mrs Lanyard?" "No, not to see Grannie. To see me. I quite understand. She—," Peggie forced herself to look at her companion, "wanted to teill me of your engagement. It was—quite unnecessary." Tony's eyes had a dangerous gleam in them. Gossip, he supposed, had been busy again. How he hated these women with their spiteful tongues. No—he did not include his mother. He could imagine her, proudly disdainful, coming to nip the hopes of the "little adventuress." He could not trust himself to speak. "I must be going home," 'he said, "but. I shall call at the Grange tomorrow. We are friends." "Are we?" said Peggie indifferently.

"I suppose so, but —to be candid — you didn't quite play the game, did you?" He knew what she meant. He had had no right to hold her as he had done for the extra minute in his arms, that day when he had saved her from drowning. He had had no right, for, though neither had spoken, each in the secret recesses of his and her heart knew the truth. They acted according to convention, they hid the secret knowledge—but it was there. Did they know it by its true name? Peggie was bitterly resentful—Tony was utterly miserable. That was the outcome of diverse upbringings. She had never known conventionalities, he had been born and bred so strongly in them that, nature could not burst the bands and win through, trampling on all that kept him from his desire. His father, his heritage, his promise to Ann, would drive him away, unconfessed, his lips sealed though his heart burned and ached. Re deceived himself as he said (with all a man's egotism), "She shall never know I love her," not realising as he should that she suffered because she both loved him and knew as a woman must know that her love was returned. "You don't understand," was his one sweeping assertion, and Peggie was forced to leave it at that, though she knew she did understand—better than he. Hilton returned to the Manor resolved not, to go near the Grange again. He had said he would call to-morrow, but he would not. He must remember his honour, his engagement. Nor did he forget the part his mother had played. Had she had the right? What would have happened had she not interfered? Whither would he and his little, bright-eyed syren have drifted? Ann, ruffled for once out of her perpetual calm, met him at the gates of the Manor. "Oh, Tony," she reproached, "where have you been? We thought you would never be in time." "My father?" he whispered. "Yes —hemorrhage; he is dying." Hilton would have set off at a run, but Ann restrained him. "The vicar has just come. The doctor is there. You won't be able to sec him for an hour. It—it is not likely to be quite immediate. Aunt Elinor wants to speak to you first." He had been working himself up into fierce resentment against his mother. Even now he felt he had a grievance which must, however, be thrust into the background. Mrs Grasleigh met them in the hall. "Gome into the library, Tony," she said, and Ann drew back. Mother and son faced each other alone.

People had the way of calling Elinor Grasleigh a wonderful woman. Perhaps thev were right. It was curious how" much more her niece by marriage resembled her than her own son. She was not the least emotional and no one would have supposed at this moment she was experiencing a great sorrow. "You have your special marriage license?" she asked. Tony stared. It was of death he expected to speak—not marriage. Last week his father had insisted on the getting of that license, and his sun had complied, wishing to humour

him. Now he was startled enough to hear the subject alluded tQ. "Yes," he said, "but —" •Your father is dying," said Mrs Grasleigh, "the cancer has eaten into his lung. He—he will not live many hours. No, Tony don't attempt to comfort, me. I can't bear it. I don't want to break down, and sentimentality jars. It will be more practicable if you consent to your father's dying wish." "And that?" "To marry Ann at once. The vicar is here, you have the license. The ceremony can be repeated later on in church, but this is your father's wish. To see you married to your cousin. Tony's face was set. '•Did he express the wish?" he asked, "or was it suggested to him?" -Both. I asked him if there was auvthing he wanted done. 1 asked him'if he would like you and Ann to l,e married by his deathbed. He said 'Yes,' he seemed pleased. He kept repeating your name." "Mother," cried Hilton passionately, "I can't do this. it is too hard. Do you realise what my father's death is to me'.'" „ She turned away. "You forget, she replied, "he is my husband." Hilton was silenced but not convinced His mother had been the ruler of that household, her word had been law, but he and his father had been together in their love, there had been a certain fear, a barrier of reserve between them and her—she had been the one apart. "Anything but this," cried Tony, I could "not face it now. 1 can think of nothing hut my loss." And in mockery, the tragic childface of Peggie Lanyard rose before him. ~ . . "It is his own desire/' said his mother, "you know how he loves you, Tony you know how he loves the Manor—the home of generations of your race. You are a man and you recognise the situation. Besides, after all, you are engaged to Ann." Tony stood still, his hands clenched, but the bands of old laws, old conventionalities, seemed to be slipping irom him. Never was there more unwilling bridegroom. After all, you are engaged to Ann. That was true. He had pledged his word It was too late to draw back. It seemed as if he were being hurled forward on the crest of some gigantic wave of fate. You arc engaged to Ann. And he loved Peggie. How curiously gnarled is a man's code of honour- he will stick to it at unexpected moments, regardless of the sacrifice to other lives. It was too late to draw back, and upstairs lay his dying father waiting to bestow his blessing on the bond he had so coveted to see knit. "Very well," he said, "for my father's sake. If Ann consents I will marry her now." "Ann has consented,'' replied his mother. (To be continued next Saturday).