The Hillman

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 173, 12 October 1927, Page 18

The Hillman

By

E.PHILLIPS OPPENHELA

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS'CHAPTERS Chapters 1 and 2.—Louise finds that she, her maid and chaffeur, are stranded on :he Cumberland Hills. The car has broken down. The Hillman comes to their aid. He escorts them to his home. John Strangewey introduces Louise to Ills elder brother, Stephen. The family have a keen dislike to the fair sex, and it is years since a woman crossed the threshold Stephen's welcome is hostile. In the large old-fashioned bedroom Louise notes the family tree. The name Strangewey sounds familiar. At the foot of the stairs John meets her In evening dress. Louise adapts herself, and does justice i:o the formidable meal. Stephen announces that they are haters of her sex, and enters into some family particulars to justify this attitude. The family portraits are examined. At ten o’clock she bids them goodnight. Chapters 3 and 4.—Louise* finds her maid Aline, cn awakening the next morning. She partakes of an ample breakfast Aline recollects that the reason why the name of Strangewey seemed familiar was because a farmer of that name in the north of England had had a vast fortune left to him from a relative in Australia Louise joins John, who shows her the beauties of the place They visit the churchyard Stephen joins them with the intimation that her car is ready. He then walks f.way. John and Louise discuss some of the deeper problems of life, and Louise declares she has something to say to him

Chapters 4 (continued), 5 and (s.—John and Louise discuss the laws of life, and she tries to make him s;ee her viewpoint. She finds he is the Stangewey who has inherited that large fortune. He promises her that, if the call to a wider life comes, he will obey it. The Prince of Seyre arrives in his car, seeking Louise. She regrets that she cannot accompany him, as Henri Graillot earnestly demands her presence in London. The Ih-ince gives John Strangewey a courteous invitation to the shooting. The party lea\*es for Kendal to catch the express foi London. Three months later John is confronted by Stephen, who asks Us brother whether he is thinking of that woman yet. He points out that she is an actress in doubtful plays. John denies that there is anything wrong, and hurls back the insults that Stephen hea.us upon Louise.

Chapters 6 (continued), 7 ancl B.—in anger John leaves his brother, and, seeking solitude, reviews his position. He drives into Market Ketton. puts his trap into ’the hands of a man to take back to Peak Hall. Then he flings himself into a train and goes straight to London There Is an undress rehearsal in progress on the stage. Graillot and his English friends disagree as to what, is best suited to an English audience. They go through the first act, and then proceed to the third. Louise notices a figure. It is John Strangewey. She Introduces him to the company. Miles Faraday takes him to a seat at the back of the stage, and the play proceeds. Afterwards the Prince of Seyre converses with Strangewey. Louise takes John to the Carlton. She says she In glad he has come to London. He says that he has come to be near her. Strangewey is not impressed by the people he sees at the Carlton.

Chapter X. (Continued) He blew through his lips a little cloud of smoke f.rom the cigarette which he had just lit. “I do not fancy,” he replied, “that I should be much of a success as a fourth in your little expedition.” “But it is silly of you not to visit Bohemia occasionally,” she declared, ignoring the meaning that lay beneath his words. “It is refreshing to rub shoulders with people who feel, and who show freely what they feel; to eat their food, drink their wine, even join in their pleasures.” The prince shook his head. “I am not of the people,” he said, ‘and I have no sympathy with them. I detest the bourgeoisie of every country in the world—my own more particularly.”

“What an unsympathetic person you can be, Eugene!” “And for that very reason,” he re- ' plied, “I can b€s sympathetic. Because I hate some people, I have the power of loving others. It pleases me to deal severely with my enemies, it gives me joy to deal generously with my friends. That is my conception of life. May I wish you a pleasant evening * T "You are going now?” she asked, a little surprised. He smiled faintly as he raised her fingers to his lips. She had made a little movement: toward him, but he took no advantage of it. “I am going :now.” “When shall I see you again?” she inquired, as s;he came back from ringing the bell. “A telephone-message from your maid, a line written with your own fingers,” he said, “will bring me to you within a few minutes. If I hear nothing I may come uninvited, but it will be when the fancy takes me. Once more, Louise, a plesant evening!” He passed ou : of the door, which the parlour-maid was holding open for him. Crossing to the window, Louise watched him leave the house and enter his waiting automobile. He gave no sign of haste or disappointment. He lit another cigarette deliberately upon the pavement and grave his orders to the chauffeur with some care. CHAPTER XI. The little room was gaudily decorated and redolent with the lingering odours of many dinners. Yet Louise, who had dined on the preceding evening at the Ritz and been bored, whose taste in food and environment was almost hypercritical, was perfectly happy. She found the cuisine and the Chianti excellent.

“We are out-staying every one else,” she declared: “and I don't even mind

their awful legacy of tobacco-smoke. Do you see that the waiter has brought you the bill, Mr. Strangewey? Prepare for a shock. It is fortunate that you are a millionaire!”

John laughed as he paid the bill and ludicrously overtipped the waiter. “London must be a paradise to the poor man!” he exclaimed. “I have never dined better.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Sophy begged. “I can only judge by results,” John insisted. “I have dined, and I am happy; therefore, the dinner must have been go'od.” “You are so convincing!*’ Sophy 'murmured. “There is: such a finality about your statements that I would not venture to dispute them. But remember that your future entertainment ia. in the hands of two women, one of whom is a deserving but struggling young artist without the means of gratifying her expensive tastes. There are heaps of places we are going to take you to which even Louise pretends she cannot afford. It is so fortunate, Mr. Strangewey, that you are rich!”

“I believe you would be just as nice to me if I weren’t!” John ventured. “I am so susceptible!” Sophy sighed, looking into her empty coffee-cup; “much more susceptible than Louise.” “My children,” said Louise, rising, “we must remember that we are going to the Palace. It is quite time we started.”

They made their way down two flights of narrow stairs into the street. The commissionaire raised his whistle to his lips, but Louise stopped him.

“We will walk,” she suggested. “This way, Mr. Strangewey.” They passed down the long, narrow street, with its dingy foreign cafes and shops, scarcely one of which seemed to be English. The people who thronged the pavements were of a new race to John, swarthy, a little furtive, a class of foreigner seldom seen except in alien lands. Men an«l women in all stages of deshabille were leaning out of the windows or standing on the doorsteps. The girls whom they met occasionally—young women of all ages, walking arm in arm, with shawls on their heads in place of hats—laughed openly in John’s face. ‘Conquests everywhere he goes!” Louise sighed. “We shall neve.r keep him, Sophy!” ‘We have him for this evening at any rate,” Sophy replied contentedly; “and he hasn’t spent all his fortune yet. I am not at all sure that I shall not hint at supper when we come out of the Palace.”

“No hint will be necessary,” John promised. “I feel the gnawings of hunger already.” “A millionaire’s firs:: night in London!” Sophy exclaimed. “I think I shall write it up for the ‘Daily Mail.’ ” “A pity he fell into bad hands, so quickly,” Louise laughed. “Here we are! Stalls, please, Mr. Millionaire. I wouldn’t be seen to-night in the seats of the mighty.” John risked a reproof, however, and was fortunate enough to find a disengaged box. “The tone of the evening,” Louise grumbled as she settled herself down comfortably, “is lost. This is the most expensive box in the place.” “You could restore it by eating an orange,” Sophy suggested. “Or even chocolates,” John ventured, sweeping most of the contents of an attendant’s tray on to the ledge of the box.

“After this,” Sophy declared, falling upon them, “supper will be a farce.” ‘ Make you thirsty,” John reminded her.

They devoted their attention to the show; Louise and Sophy at first with only a moderate amount of interest, John with the real enthusiasm of one to whom everything is new. His laughter was so hearty, his appreciation so sincere, that his companions found it infectious, and began to applaud everything. “What children we are!” Louise exclaimed. “Fancy shrieking with laughter at a ventriloquist whom I have seen at every music-hall I have been to during the last five or six years! ” “He was wonderfully clever, all the same,” John insisted.

“The bioscope,” Louise decided firmly, “I refuse to have anything to do with. You have had all the entertainment you are going to have this evening, Mr. Countryman.”

“Now for supper, then,” he proposed.

Sophy sighed as she collected the half-empty chocolate-boxes. “What a pity I’ve eaten so many! They’d have saved me a luncheon tomorrow.”

“Greedy child,” Louise laughed, “sighing for want of an appetite! I think we’ll insist upon a taxi this time. I don’t like overcrowded streets. Where shall we take him to, Sophy?

You know the supper places better than I do.”

“Luigi’s,” Sophy declared firmly. “The only place in London.” They drove toward the Strand. John looked around him with interest as they entered the restaurant. Luigi, who had come forward to welcome Sophy, escorted them to one of the best tables.

“You must be very nice to this gentleman, Luigi,” she said. “He is a very great friend of mine, just arrived in London. He has come up on purpose to see me, and we shall probably decide to make this our favourite restaurant.”

“I shall be vairy happy,” Luigi declared, with a bow.

“I am beginning to regret, Mr. Strangewey, that I ever introduced you to Sophy,” Louise remarked, as she sank back into her chair. “You won’t believe that all my friends are as frivolous as this, will you?” “They aren’t,” Sophy proclaimed confidently. “I am the one person who succeeds in keeping Louise with her feet upon, the earth. She has never had supper here before. Dry biscuits, hot milk and a volume of poems are her relaxation after the theatre. She takes herself too seriously.” “I wonder if I do!” Louise mur-

mured, as she helped herself to caviare.

She was suddenly pensive. Her eyes seemed to be looking out of the restaurant. Sophy was exchanging amenities with a little party of friends at the next table. “One must sometimes be serious,” John remarked, “or life would have no poise at all.” “I have a friend who scolds me,” she confided. “Sometimes he almost loses patience with me. He declares that my attitude towards life is too analytical. When happiness comes my way, I shrink back. I keep my emotions in the background, while my brain works, dissecting, wondering, speculating. Perhaps what he says is true. I believe that if one gets into the habit of analysing too much, one loses all elasticity of emotion, the capacity to recognise and embrace the great things when they come.” “I think you have been right,” John declared earnestly. “If the great things come as they should come, they are overwhelming, they will carry you off your feet. You will forget to specula.te and to analyse. Therefore, I think you have been wise and right to wait. You have run no risk of having to put up with the lesser things.” She leaned toward him across the rose-shaded table. For those few seconds they seemed to have been brought into a wonderfully intimate communion of thought. A wave of her hair almost touched his forehead. His hand boldly rested upon her fingers. “You talk,” she whispered, “as if we were back upon your hill-tops once more!” He turned his head toward the little orchestra, which was playing a low and tremulous waltz tune. “I want to believe,” he said, “that you can listen to the music here and yet live upon the hill-tops.” “You believe that it is possible?” “I do indeed,” he assured her. “Although my heart was almost sick with loneliness, I do not think that I should be Here if I did not believe it. I have not come for anything else, for any lesser things, but to find ” For once his courage failed him. For once, too, he failed to understand her expression. She had drawn back a little, her lips were quivering. Sophy broke suddenly in upon that moment of suspended speech. “I knew how it would be!” she exclaimed. “I leave you both alone for less than a minute, and there you sit, as grave as. two owls. I ask you, now, is this the place to wander off into the clouds? When two people sit looking at each other as you were doing a minute ago, here in Luigi’s at midnight with champagne in their glasses, and a supper, ordered regardless of expense, on the "table before them, they are either without the least sense of the fitness of things, or else ” “Or else what?” Louise asked. “Or else they are head over heels in love with each other!” Sophy concluded. “Then we will just talk nonsense.” Louise suggested. “I am not very good at it,” John sighed; “and there is so much I want to say that isn’t nonsense.” “You ought to be thankful all your life that you have met me and that I am disposed to take an interest in you,” Sophy remarked, as she moved a chair a little nearer to John’s. “I am quite sure that in a very short time you would have become—well, almost a prig. Providence has selected me to work out your salvation.” The lights were lowered a few minutes later, and John paid the bill. (To be continued.)