PRIZE STORY COMPETITION.

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 237, 6 October 1928, Page 15 (Supplement)

PRIZE STORY COMPETITION.

LOVE'S LAST REWARD

The first place is. given this month to Miss Mary E. Gurney, "Fairfield," Warpukurau, Hawke's Bay, for her story, "Love's Last RewarH."

. . .(By E. MARY GURNEY.) '■■ .It was the same old story—the story bf war, and war's aftermath of penury • find debt; followed by an avalanche of Jbiscuits, or somebody's, patent. something. v ■ ~'■ ~ ; . When it was all over, yet another .of itlie stately homes of England was' in the hands of the Philistines; asid all tha >vas left to Gilray, bf his inheritance, was •—a dog. • •■ "A dog'." you exelaini, in biting tones, »'a dog!"' ' 1. . " ''.' . Some dogs would not be much, I grant you; but there are dogs-and dogs; and ■you have not yet met Hector —son of . Monarch'and Royal Lady—royal in their own rights,'bred from a line of kings— >vho walked the stately .grounds of. Gilray Park long before Norman William saw the light of day. Meet Hector now, as he sits motionless beside . Gilray's chair-, in Doctor Ashineade's 'consulting room, and watches Gilray with limpid Thrown eyes sick with love. > . ■ Those soft .eye?,, overflowing with itumb adoration, and doggy anxiety,are only a shade darker than his tawny gold coat, with its splendid copper red ruff, and plumey, yellow fringed tail; for Hector is a setter—rand a king. He was born on the day that Cosmo Gilray, freezing in the'mud and muck of Flanders, came into his inheritance. And when,'some six Trionths later, Cosmo was invalided honie, with half a lung eaten away by gas, and a longing for l death upon him; it was Hector who mot him at the park gates; Hector who followed, with doggy, worshipping eyes, and slinking, stealthy footsteps, '.into the room where they laid the broken heir of Gilray Park. :: '. ;.„ ..'."'' When they would have driven him away, Cosmo,feebly forbade them; for, though. health was shattered, and hope dead, the-love , of dumb things still lived strong within him; so Hector crept to the bedside, and Cosmo Gilray fell asleep with his' arm flung across the lovely, tawny head. From that day, the two were inseparable; and. when the end came, and America, in a vast, pretentious car, of : char-a-banc .proportions, and check knickerbockers/ descended on , .Gilray Park, Hector wailed nis anguish' to the waning moon, and, puzzled, but uncomplaining, .followed Gilray .into; exile;

Exile in the murky, tumultuous streets of London; where Gilray; unfit for heavier work,' slogged hopelessly and uncomplainingly at a desk; till T.B. «eized on his' injured-lung and death triumpfceHtly stared him in the face.

They lodged miserably in a wretched "apartment" in—God forgive us.— Bloomsbury; , because, in the" better localitiesj.no one wanted Hector. The house of the "apartment" boasted a tiny backyard, and there Hector spent his days, moping till Gilray came home, and took him to Kensington, or the Kow. ..Once Cosmo, cursing his selfishness i keeping Hector, sent him, during the season, to a friend who owned a place on* rolling" Sussex Downs; and for'a week Hector neither slept nor ate, but mourned so silently and terribly, that Cosmo's friend rushed him back to the smoko and grime and -confinement of . Bloomsbury, in a .panic leat Hector should die of very grief. i Once, during a short holiday, they went back to the vicinity of Gilray Park, and America offered Gilray. many dollars for his "red dawg"—silver for the living heart of gold. • .. "He's be 'appy 'ere," affirmed America; and Hector did look happy, racing round.the lawns, investigating the stables and kennels;- and every nook and corner of old; but when Gilray left, Hector followed him, with never a backward look. America watched them go, and desire was in. his eyes. .■■■'. "I'd sure give a whole lot to own that setter, Marian,", he mourned; . and Marian, worldly wise, answered: "Wait.' There's not much money won't buy." '■■,-■'■ ' ■ ' '■ It bought Hector. Which takes us back to the beginning, and Doctor Ashmeade's consulting room. Not for nothing were Hector's golden eyes so pathetically anxious. _Dr. Ashmeade's verdict had been merciless — Switzerland or the'south of France, or a. grave beneath the lime trees in Gilray churchyard. ,■ When Ashmeade said Switzerland, Gilray laughed harshly. "Why. hot the South Pole?" he deanded;;'and thought, almost gratefully, of the limes that overhung the churchyard on the far Sussex hill. ' And then Hector laid his tasselled paw on Gilray's knee, - jLhd the ice went out of Gilray's heart, leaving him bruised and sore— and aching for life. Cosmo Gilray's slim, too-white hand caressed the tawny head, and Ashmeade said: ' ' \ "You could get fifty; for . him anywhere." . '. *•■ - •-": _v . '■■■■• ■

"No!" said Gilray. . "Judas money! I should die of the taint , o'f the gold!" \

v-'He'll lose you, nevertheless," said Ashmeade, mercilessly. v "If you live, you can always get him back-— ~"}t.-

Ashmeade left the sentence unfinished, but Cosmo Gilray finished it in soul. .

So Hector went back (to Gilray Park, and Gilray went to the South of France.

'Now;'Ashmeade was a clever man, but there yreie two things he did not know. He knew that Gilray was very ill— fatally ill, in fact, unless the South of France should perform a miracle; but he-did not know how ill Gilray was mentally, nor did he even remotely gauge the depths of a dog's love for a man. ■ . ,

Gilray went to the -South of France, and knew 1 in a month that he was doomed; cursed the'blood money that had placed the, sea between him and his love; prayed ceaselessly and unbelievingly, that Hector would" forget. And at home, in Gilray Park, 1 Hector mourned his irretrievable loss. Mourned with, fasting, and in silence; save when the moon rose full, when he sobbed and sobbed, till American , Marian laid her head on America's shoulder, and wept for ve:y sympathy.

They were made of gold, these two; gold' purchased with, the lives of men; and yet, deep down, the pathos of life, of humanity, still lived in their hearts.

They- lavished a wealth of love and care on the heart-broken Hector, but nothing they could do could assuage in the smallest degree the passion of his grief. . ■ A. week after Gilray went, America took Hector shooting, and Hector, off the leash, bounded away as if. birds were not, searching, searching for Gilray.

It was a fortnight before they got him ,back —from Bloomsbury—gaunt, l famished, a heart-broken wraith of the Hector Gilray knew .and' loved. And that was the night he mourned till American Marian wept; and America said gruffly, blowing a trumpet blast on

his plebeian nose: "I'd sure givea'whole lot and then some to get that dawg back where he belongs! Wonder where young Gilray is?" . ' .- '.

He- went to London the next day with the express purpose of finding out.

"He's in Mentone," Ashmeade : told him, and to America's further inquiries: dying."

'.. "So's the dawg," said America, and all the way back in the train he kept thinking. "I got his place an' his dawg. I might 'ave left 'im 'is da.wg. I could 'are lent 'im fifty—some-'ow. I could : ave —if I 'attn't wanted 'is dawg!" Presently his feelings got .too much for him, and he said, "Oh, damn!" so loudly and explosively that, the only 'other* occupant .of the carriage, a toomaidenly: lady, gave a piercing little scream. America- apologised profusely. "You see," lie explained obscurely, "lie said he was Judas; and 1 sure guess I'm Cain." .- ■ ■ She thought he was mad, and was quite relieved to find'herself-still alive when he got out at- Gilray. Marian , was.fidgeting in the hall when lie alighted from the fast car.' "Her—he's dying, Jos," she said. "Dying—and we'ean't do anything!" "So's the ' boy," * answered America. '"Dyin , —in a foreign country—while we go plutocratin' 'round in 'is 'ome." She began to cry, helplessly, saying between-her sobs, :.■-.;.; . ■'■ "I—l've always wanted to see, the Fouth of France, Jos." America rang for his Bradshaw. ' Money can do anything. ■- : • - •-»■■ ■ ■ ..«.. ' t is

. Thqy had moved Cosmo Gilray from his quarters to the big airy hospital that overlooked the bay.

"When America and his Marian arrived there with Hector, there .wae death in the setter's filmed, lustreless eyes —in the slow drag of his gait.

He bore everything uncomplainingly, even, to swallowing the capsules prescribed by England's most famous vet.

. "Give me something that'll keep him going for a few more days," begged .America; and because money can. buy anything, America got them. So Hector existed till they arrived at Mentone.

He could hardly stand, and every hone in his gaunt b'ody showed through his dull,' lustreless coat, like, the .bones of a skeleton.

At the hospital they refused at first to let Hector in; but- money. So they went down endless corridors, to a little white room. When the door opened, Cosmo Gilray turned his head listlessly, and stared at America with eyes as lustreless as Hector's.

, There was no recognition in them, and for some unaccountable reason America's own grew dim; so he said, helplessly: "Old man—l—we've . brought '.your da wg— "

"Mγ dog?" cried Gilray; and at the sound of his voice, Hector, drooping in the corridor; gave , a cry that was human in its'intensity. And then, straining feebly at the leash held tenderly by Marian, ]. : crept through the doorway, and across to the bedside.

Gilray raised himself, and stretched put a gaunt, bony hand. "Hector!" he cried. "Hector!" And then, terribly, '"My God—what have they done to you?"

"He—wanted you," explained America. "He's dyin'" •:

The tears were- running unchecked down America's cheeks—for he was very sentimental, beneath the gold veneer. "Lift him up," gasped Gilray. So they lifted Wm up beside Gilray, on the immaculate hospital bed. "Hector!" whispered Gilray, again. "Hector—old pal!" •■'■?. Feebly Hector strove, and his damp tongue softly caressed Gilray's unshaven chin. Then Hector sighed an' immense, doggy sigh, and dropped his proud head against his idol's shoulder.

.: They went away then, America and his wife; • but presently, when an orderly wentto remove the dog, he found Gilray, too, was sleeping, his arm about Hector's neck; and Gilray's hand was icy cold, in spite of the warm carers of the afternoon sun that fell across the bed, striking dull gleams from the tawny coat of Hector of the Faithful Heart."