Hillman

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 168, 6 October 1927, Page 13

Hillman

E.PHILLIPS OPPENHELM.

SYNONSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chaptart 1 and 2.—Louise finds that she, hej maid and chaffeur, are stranded on th« Cumberland Hills. The car has broken do'Wi. The Hillman comes to their aid. escorts them to his home. John 3tiangewey introduces Louise to his elder brother, Stephen. The family have a keen dislike to the fair sex, and it is years sinae a woman crossed the threshold. Stephen's welcome is hostile. In the large old-fashioned bedroom Louise notes the fax lily tree. The name Strangewey somd* familiar. At the foot of the stain John meets her in evening dress, unis* adapts herself, and does justice to the formidable meal. Stephen announces that they are haters of her sex, anil enters into some family particulars to justify this attitude. The family portraits are examined. At ten o’clock she ok* them goodnight. Chapters 3 and 4.—Louise finds her maid AUne, on awakening the next morning, on i partakes of an ample breakfast. Aline recollects that the reason why the name or Strangewey seemed familiar was be- *?'**• • farmer of that name in the north ♦ had had a vast fortune left r\ “«n from a relative in Australia. Loise jona John, who shows her the beauties of rm place. They visit the churchyard, th.i. Joins them with the intimation uuu her car is ready. He then walks ntfc’ m and Louise discuss some »u i ®®®P er problems of life, and Louise e<.laresi she has something to say to him. CHAPTER IV. (Continued). Don't you realise the increase of your power as a human being?” she replied. y°u realise the larger possibilities 1 the life that is open to you? You jn move, if you will, in the society you h* oo **;’ meet interesting people who ‘ ve done things, learn everything that m everything that is worth doYou can travel to the reuote countries of the globe. You can & politician, a philanthropist, or t JPortaman. You can follow your *4tea wherever they lead you, and— Perhaps this is the most important thing ~,a“ —yon can do everything upon a ■Plendid scale.” f*®' *miled down at her. .yoat all sounds very nice,” he ad- “ 'ted; “but supposing that I have no •stein any of the directions you have •jnttoned? Supposing my life here "lanes mo? Supposing I find Jill that •wjpect to find in life here on my own my own hills? What not possible.” she exclaimed, that you can mean it!” h But w hy not?” he protested. ”1 •'« not the tortuous brain of the '"tern politician. I hate cities —the tk i» °* them, the atmosphere of them, 'a , i* * n them. The desire for travel !>niy half born in me. That may come r;. cannot tell. I love the daily work '■®: lam fond of horses and dogs. I now every yard of land we own, ancl I m>ow what It will produce. It interests jSJJ to try experiments—new crops, a distribution of crops, new machj. < : ry ®ometimes, new methods of fertiI love to watch the seasons *»* reign and pass. I love to mV lhe wind an< i the sun, and even the a J* these things have become a °i a PP®tite to me. lam afraid,” he £<>und up a little lamely, ‘‘that this is tMN#w y hadly expressed, but the whole n . Jtb of it is, you see, that I am a S* simple and inlierited tastes. I that my life is here, and I live it I love it. Why should I go out ** * 'Don Quixote' and search for dventures?” fJecause you are a man!” she answiftly. “You have a brain and nc»\il ’.oo big for your life here. You j | a ®d drink, and physically you flourin* ’ k ' PS-rt of you sleeps because it thi awa V from the world of real v Don't you sometimes feel it in tn if ' ,ear t that life, as we were meant 't» can only be lived among our T*jjjjr-men?” v'kftl tlie ouixj who tjrjes jtp live inor©:

than one life fails in both. There is a little cycle of life here, among our thirty or forty souls, which revolves around my brother and myself. You would think it stupid and humdrum, because the people are peasants; but J am not sure that you are right. The elementary things, you know, are the greatest, and those we have. Our people fall in love and marry. The .ioy of birth comes to our mothers. and the ti-agedy of death looms over us all. Some go out into tile world, some choose to remain here. A passer-by may glance upward from the road at our little hamlet, and wonder what can ever happen in such an out-of-the-way corner. I think the answer is just what I have told you. Love and marriage, birth and death happen. These things make life.” Her curiosity now had become merged in an immense interest. She laid her fingers lightly upon his arm. "You speak for your people,” she said. "That is well. I can understand their simple lives being as absorbing to them as ours are to us. I can imagine how. here among your hills, you can watch as a spectator a cycle of life which contains, as you have pointed out, every element of tragedy and happiness. But you yourself?” “X am onti of them." he answered, “a necessary part of them.” “How you deceive yourself! I am sure you are honest, I am sure you believe what you say, but will you remember what lam going to tell you? The time will come, before very long, when you will feel doubts.” “Doubts about what?” She smiled enigmatically. “Oh, they will assert themselves,” she assured him, "and you will recognise them when they come. Something will whisper to you in your heart that, after all, you nrei not of the same clay as these simple folk —that there is a different mission in the world for a man like you than to play the part of feudal lord over a few peasants. Sooner or later you will come out into the world; and the sooner the better, I think, Mr. John StrangewEy, or you will grow like your brother here among your granite hills.” He moved a little uneasily. All the time she was watching him. It aeeraecl to her that she could read the thoughts which were stirring in his brain. "You would like to say, wouldn’t you.’ she w;nt on, "that your brother’s is a useful and an upright life? So it may be, but it is not wide enough or great enough. No one should be content with the things which he can reach. He should climb a little higher, and pluck (he riper fruit. Some day you will fee the desire to climb. Something will come to you—in the night, perhaps, or on the bosom of that wind you love so much. It may be a call of music, or it may be a more martial note. Promise me, will you, that when you feel the impulse you won’t use all that obstinate will power of yours to crush it? You will destroy the best part of yourself if you do. You will give it a chance? Promise.” She held out her hand with a little impulsive gesture. He took it in his own. and held it steadfastly. “I will remember,” he promised. Along the narrow streak of road, from the southward, they both watched the rapid approach of a large motorcar. Thorn were two servants upon the front seat, and one passenger, a man. inside. It swung into the level stretch beneath them, a fantasy of grey and silver in the reflected sunshine. • Louise had been leaning forward, her head supported upon her hands. As the car slackened speed she rose very slowly to her feet. "The chariot of deliverance!” she murmured. ”i| is X&J S.ejrre”” ,Johe

remarked, gazing down with a. slight frown upon his forehead. She nodded. They had started the descent, and she was walking in very leisurely fashion. “The prince is a great friend of mine,” she said. “I had promised to spend last night, or at any rate some portion of the evening, at Raynham Castle on my way to London.’ He summoned up courage to ask her the question which had been on his lips more than once. “As your stay with us is so nearly over, won’t you abandon your incognito ?” "In the absence of your brother,” she answered, “I will risk it. My name is Louise Maurel.” “Louise Maurel, the actress?” he repeated wonderingly. “I am she,” Louise confessed. ‘ Would your brother,” she added with a little grimace, “feel that he had given me a night's lodging under false pretences?” John made no immediate reply. The world had turned topsy-turvy with him. Louise Maurel, and a great friend of the Prince of Seyre! He walked on mechanically until she turned and looked at him. “Well?” "I am sorry," he declared bluntly. “Why?” she asked, a little startled at his candour. “I am sorry, first of all, that you are a friend of the Prince of Seyre.” “And again why?” “Because of his reputation in these parts.” “What does that mean?” she asked. "I am not a scandalmonger.” John replied dryly. “I speak only of what. I know. His estates near here are systematically neglected. He is the worst landlord in the country, and the most unscrupulous. His tenants, both here and in Westmoreland, have to work themselves to death to provide him with the means of living a disreputable life.’’ “Big man of the hills,” she said, “when you come down from your frozen heights to look for the flowers, I shall try to make you see things differently.” The prince, who had just been joined by Stephen, had descended jfrom his car, and was waiting in the road when Louise and John approached. He came a few paces forward to meet her, and held out both his hands. “My dear wandering guest,” he exclaimed, “so I have found you at last!

What shall I say to this mishap which has robbed me of so many hours of your visit? Jam too happy, though, to know that you have suffered no personal inconvenience.** CHAPTER V. “Thanks to the great kindness of my hosts,” Louise replied, smiling a little mockingly at Stephen, “I have been completely spoiled here, prince, and I can only regard ray accident as a delightful little interlude.” The prince bowed, and half held out his hand to Stephen. The latter, however, appeared not to notice the movement. “I shall always remember with gratitude,” the prince declared, “the kindness of Mr. Strangewey and his brother to my lost guest. I fear,” he went on regretfully, “that I do not seem very neighbourly. I am not often at Raynham Castle, except in August and September. I find your northern airs somewhat too severe for me.” “Your tenants, prince,” Stephen remarked, calmly, “would like to see a little more of you.** The prince shrugged his shoulders. He was a man of medium height, slen - der, with a long and almost colourless face. He carried himself with the good-humoured air of the man of the world among strange surroundings to - ward which he desired to express his toleration. His clothes and voice were perfectly English, although the latter was unusually slow and soft. “Now, dear lady,” said the prince, turning to Louise, “I am loath to lose another minute of my promised visit. I have taken the liberty of telling your maid to place your wraps in my car. W e can reach Raynham in time for a late lunch. Your own car can follow us and bring your maid.’* For a moment Louise did not reply. The prince had moved a few steps away to give some directions to hij> chauffeur, and he saw nothing of the strange look of indecision that had suddenly crept into her face. Her eyebrows were contracted. She had turned, and was gazing up the precipitous strip of moorland toward the grey walled church. Then she glanced at John Strangewey, and her eyes seemed filled with the questioning of a child. It was as if she had abandoned the role of mentor, as if she herself were seeking for guidance or help. To be continued.