THE OLD HERO

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LI, Issue 330, 23 January 1909, Page 4

THE OLD HERO

(By Katharine Tynan.) ft was about live o'clock of a winter afternoon, and old Major Lacy was sitting with his feet in a pail of hot water and mustard before the dreary lodginghouse lire. Outside it was dark, except [or tho Sis-lamps that flared in the wind along the deserted sea-front." The Lacys took their change to the sea iu winter when no one. else wanted the lodgings and thev were cheap. In summer they 'staved in town lor the same reason. 'the lodgings were draughty iu winter, and the 11111 jor had taken cold. Selina. his eldest 'daughter, to whom her father was 1110011 and sun, had grown alarmed about him. and had insisted on liis "(ling to bed early after the preliminary foot-bath. A little kettle was singing'oil the. lire. The major was to havi. a imt drink to assist his cure; 1 bottle of rum, sugar, a lemon, and a glass stood 011 a shabby little tray on the table. Selina was kneeling ill front of her father, a bath-towel across her extended hands, rcadv to wrap the foot in when thev should emerge from, the pail. She. had a reverential air as though the foot were something sacred. Since she was a girl—a woman, rather —who had the need to adore something, it was as well she had such a father as old Hugh Lacv to lavish her heart's worship on. Despite the foot-bath, despite the shabby, stained dressing-gown, despite the unlovely lodging-house siirroundin"s, to the person of discrimination [lu«h Ucv would have given assurance Of the hero he was. His white hair fell in leonine, fashion about 'his red, sun'burnt old face; his eyes, yet blue and kindly, and innocent in their normal expression, could at moments have the low lustre and flash of steel; his voice yet could ring coimnundingly when occasion required it. ' Into the mean room, lit by tlie dim lamp which Selina had toiled in vam .to make more ollicient, there came suddenly a magnilii t young gentleman. The'stupid little lodging-house servant ushered him ill with a 'horrible travesty of his name. Then, as though discovering her blunder, she retired prccipi■tately. , , , Fur a moment I here was absolute •ilonce i-,i the room. Then the young aentleman. who was clad in the garnients nS Suvilc How. advanced, blushing deeply and holding out Ins hand. -My father, Sir Valentino Duinarosq,' ]„. said, "asked me to call, sir, and prosent his kind remembrances to yon. I am stalioned at Hie Seat'ord Barracks with my regiment, the -tl. Hussars, and onlv discovered yesterday where to find you. .My father had some trouble to discover your address.'' I The old soldier's face had lit up dnr- ' in" the speech. 'He had forgotten the slight awkwardness he had felt at the strange young man's intrusion on his private moments. lie took Captain .Dumarosq's hand and shopk.it heartily. "I am very glad to welcome a sou of Sir Valentine," he said. "A kind, handsome, generous follow, and a fine soldier. To think he should have remembered me over all these years. Sit down, sit down, Captain Dumaresq. Selina. my girl—my eldest daughter; Selina, Captain Duinaresq—take away all this rubbish. You are too young a man and too old to know how the women coddle one. You forget one end

of vour life and have not yet arrived at, the. other. Dear me, and how is Sir .Valentine? And how did lie know that J. was at SoafonV: J thought he had lost sight of me long ago; il is not easy to lose sight of him. What, will you •take. Captain IJnimirosq? I was about to have some hot rum for my cold. You ■won't join mo'.' A cup of ten, then? Ah. we never drank lea when I was a young fellow." i" Leonard Duinurcsq looked down at Selina's bent bond, as she dried her father's feet with tho bath-towel, curiously.

: It' was a world ho luul never entered liefni'e. this dreary, ugly world in which nlil soldiers look fool-hatlis liy the | sitting-room fire and wen- waited o-n liy plain-looking daughters. Slie: was very I plain; dark, lumpish features: too inneh I hair for the size of her head. Her hands in the lamplight -howed thin and discolored: her ill-litti.njt sown of rough, grey tweed made her dull complexion more undecided. 'Her eyes were hidden i from him. And she was not young—'thirty, or perhaps older. T\\< .looked! away from her to the old, leonine face. "My father has often said to me." lie said, with a, shyness that hecame him:, .'"Leonaril, my lad, if you arc i/ithia

ri'iisojiulile distance of my old comrade, Hugh Lacy, il must "be your pruud privilege to sec mid know 'him. lie is the (finest soldier i have known.'"

i "Bless 1110, did Sir Valentino say that?" the old hero exclaimed dcigltlcll,y. "I'm sure the Queen lost a very line soldier when your father gave up soldiering. He was bound to shine wherever he was. Look at liinii now, n ■Minister of the Queen, when others of Us are laid on the shelf, lit for nothing hut to fret our 'hearts out."

A good many things concerning tho old man wore passing through Leonard Dumaresq's mind. it was true that. Hugh Lacy was a man who had made history. By sheer magnificent dash and courage and resource lie had risen from a humble position to be major in a crack regiment. He had a, drab little wife, supposed by his brother officers to have been a sewing-maid or the dressmaker of the village wlicre lie had been born. As a matter of fact she wan neither, but tho daughter of a poor parson. But no one was interested enough to find that out except one of the subalterns who looked up to "uld Lacy," with- far more discerning eyes than the rest. -Mrs. Lacy had always lived in some shabby-genteel street of the town where the regiment happened to be stationed, and novir emerged save when she oo.ild not help it. If she had been the sewingmaid or the village dressmaker she could not have been sliver of the mngnilicnit i.'iit.eiilies who'were the feminine, friends and belongings of the major's brother officers. When Sir \ aleutine most unwillingly had given up his sword for the eountryI gentleman'* plough-share, lie had acI quired a suck ol unsatisfied longings laud ambition-, which pirlinps in time lie had trail-milled to his sou. Anyhow, Leonard l)nmaresi| was so devoted to his soldiering, so much in love with the hard work of it, that he excited an amusement that was almost contempt in the minds of the gilded youth of the regiment. He was so much ill love with it that presently he forgot the dingincss of his surroundings, the shabbiness of the old major, the oily fumes of the rum punch, in iislining to and looking at tho finest soldier his father had ever known. Selina had brought bin* his tea; she had taken I'he little tray and disan- • poured, and when she brought it again it had been spread with it certain dainti- . j ness which was at war with its sttr-

rounding*. Captain Duinaresq hardly noticed. He was absorbed in listening to the old man. Hut unconsciously lie drank several cups of ten and accounted for a whole plateful of thin brown bread-and-butter, which was a tribute to Selina's housekeeping. Presently Selina's younger sisters,

Maud and' Betty, came, in. 'i'hey had been forewarned:'at the threshold by the little servant of the grand visitor who had fallen upon the humble domicile like a creature, from another sphere. So they had put on 'their best to do honor to the occasion.

They were, rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed girls. 'Captain Duniarosq had an uncomfortable feeling of having seen them about on the esplanade and ill tho streets of the town, laughing and chattering rather more than was desirable with various heedless young subalterns from the garrison town across the bay from Scaford. If he had thought of

them at all then it was to suppose that thev were shop-girls or dressmakers' assistants. Ho felt a vague annoyance now to find that they were Hugh Lacy's daughters. They |iut Selina more ill Hie shade than ' ever. Their gaily • beribhoiiod blouses with a deal of transparency at tho neck, bought for throe and elevenpence three farthings in llayswater, their cheap pearls and amber, their bangles and Mizpah rings, showed festive by comparison with Selina's colorless garments. They had fair hair llull'cd out over obvious wire frames. Thev joined in the conversation freely, and'were plainly exhilarated by Leonard 'Dumaresq's presence. Hitherto their acquaintance had at its tinest been restricted to young ollicers of tho line. Their coming spoilt the afternoon for the visitor. He had. been forgetting the dingincss of the surroundings in listening" to the hero. Now the magic had fallen from his eyes and once more he was conscious of the sickly fumes of the rum, the smell of the cheap oil lamp, the wet ring which the pail had left on the dusty hearthrug, the peeling American cloth table-cover, the stain of grease on tho old hero's dress-ing-gown. He stood up to <g°- He was nn nml ' able person, and had not boon aware till this moment of any unusual fastidiousness. Now tho, girls irritated him. good-natured, simple creatures m whom it was evident the old hero found nothiiia amiss. Nor would he have if Ihov iiinl hern (is lie supposed them, dressmakers or shop-girls; only—they were as discordant with Hugh Ijley as was the lodging-house parlor. Poverty had no repulsion for l)u----inaro.-q: imt it ought to be clean, simple, austere p-nvertv. 'Tim menage in which he had fiiiiml his father's hero, the hero of his own bovhood. jarred mi him like some horrible'discord'.

As he walked away along the wet esplanade; and took a boat to row him across to tne other side whore his barracks lay. he had no definite intention of returning. Indeed, he had a very definite intention not to return. He did not waul to see those beiilihoiied girls, to hear their Cockney accents again. But oddly enough, in the days that followed, the memory of the girls and thfl thiiip that had 'annoyed him faded away, and the face of the old soldier emerged from the obscurity of the dim lodging-house parlor, with that light of ■valor Tu it which drew him as the musician is drawn by immortal music, the poet by groat poetry. Xot'ii we* had gone, by till onee again he found himself walking down the wet esplanade to the dingy lodginghouse. Indeed, he was conscious of a great expectation as he walked up the steps anil rang the tinkling bell. The blind was down over the parlor window, but he. could see on it the shadow of the old soldier's head. It was the head of a lion. There was something incongruous in seeing it there so quiet iu the lamplight. When he. was ushered in ho found he, had iiiturrupled a reading. Selina was sitting on the other side of the lamp. She had au old, calf-covered, broken-hacked volume in her hand; an account of the campaigns of the Duke of Marlborough lie discovered it to be. Later lie knew a. good deal of the contents of the hook.

'He had interrupted them at a stirring bit. Selina kept her linger between the pages while she shook hands with him. "Finish, my girl," said Major Lacy. "Captain Dumaresq will excuse us." Selina road on to the end of the page. I'nlike. her'sisters her accent was pure. She read .the stirring, quaintly-worded narrative with simple effect. She was not a great soldier's daughter, and at ouei in everything with him, to read "Marlborough's Campaign-," with quiet pulses. A little color en me in her cheeks as she read. A good girl. Captain Dumitresi) thought to himself. What a blessing II Id father had her to minister to him! And she was not likely fo ; leave him. How plain she was! If was not fair that women should be so plain. He. was a quixotic person, and it gave him a little stall to see a woman, so plain, and so resigned to her plainness. He had known women as plain, plainer; but thou the kind Kates had atoned to them •bv making them satisfied with their looks. A woman who could read like that ought to bo better-looking. I When she had finished her reading she drew a basket to her side containing' grev worsted stockings, and finding one with a great hole, began to dam it while the men lalked. If she heard, what thev talked of she made no sign. After a time she went quietly from the, room, and presently reappeared followed by tho tea-fray.' She poured out the tea-'aml' placed Captain Diiiuarosq's eup at his elbow. Then she brought her fathers and arranged it mi a little table. Her movements were quiet and quick. Captain Duinaresi| was glad she was so void of oll'ence. Sitting there with her iinliistrous, dark head in the lamplight, darning innumerable stocking, she was as if she had not been.

' He had paid his first visit in the second week of November. By Christmas il was a settled thing that ho spent a couple of afternoons a week with the old soldier. ]h' usual'ly found him and Selina- by themselves. The livelier daughters had apparently made many friends ilnd were much in request.

After the first they were not greatly interested in <*a]itiiiii Dmnarcsq. He was a faultless'and dazzling iii-rson, to lio sure; lint a liit of a stick, no fun in liim. for tlipin at least. For tile same reason which :uailc them ni'efer (lie gimmick shops of tin- linrlinsrton Arcade to the dazzle of Slivetnr's or Hancock'.-:, namely, that they were interested in the thins* within their reacli, they preferred the pink-chocked infantry suhalterns to the Captain of Hussars. He had licon vaguely conscious of some gradual mitigation of the lodging-

j house ugliness. At lii'st it was a new lump. Again his eye missed with relief the horrible little white and scarlet shotted lines of the American elutli talili'-eover—its (dace had been taken by a aiumi'i! of dull green serge. There was a clean strip of matting now instead of the greasy hearthrug. One afternoon his nostrils were sensible of a grateful odour. There was a. hunch of lilies of the. valley in. a cheap vase on the table. lie looked across at Sclina, woadvriug how she had come by the llowers. lilies of the valley were not cheap just then, lie was a person of a, simple, unspcenlativc mind, and it was not aj all like him to think of the cost of the llowers and! to couple it with the obvious poverty of the Lucys. He wondered if someone had given them to her. He was sure no one had given them .to Jland or Hetty. Lilies of the valley were, incongruous with tlfose blooming damsels. ...'/ He felt himself vaguely displeased with the idea, tluit Selina ■uVboen the recipient of the llowers, and ascribed t to jealousy on the old man's account. Of course she ■must never leave him now. It would ho cruel, wicked, when she had liecome so necessary to him. Fortunately, she seemed) entirely satisliid with her father, not like those mixes, her sisters. It was fortunate that she Was so plain. lie -never laid a doubt of her plainness till he met her one evening, hurrying along in Hie darkness to a chemist's shop to get a prescription made up for her father's cough. Me stopped and spoke, to her under a street-lamp.

"He is not worse?" he asked, with a shock of alarm. He had been coming to love the old hero better each time they mot, as the simple and heroic soul revealed itself more freely. "No, he is no worse."

She lifted, her eves to him, and the light of the flaring street-lamp was in her face. He recognised, with wonder

at his own dulness, that the eyes were lieuutiful, beautiful enough of themselves to redeem even a plainer face than hers. They were grey—no they ■were black or dark brown; the iris .lightened and darkened, a. soul spoke •through, the eyes, a beautiful soul. All, ■now he was sure they were grey, but iwith suoh dark lashes, and the pupils so dee]) audi lustrous. "He is no worse," she said quietly. He. started at the sound of her voice. It seemed to him that he had been looking through her eyes into her heart and soul for a lirng. long time. "But, Oaptnin Dumaresq," she went on, '"he is not any hotter. Don't you .see what is the matter with him! They have, laid him away on the shelf hccau.se he has no friend in high, places to remember him. He wants work, to work for his country. He is sixty-five, but he is twenty years younger in everything but years. He lias no friends in high places, therefore he is laid aside while tho incompetents get the work to do." • "No friends in high places!" Dumaresq echoed. "But—my father! What has my father been about! I think we shall have need of him soon. I do not believe that our next war is going to ho such an easy matter. Thirty years or so of peaco or comparative peace have let the incompetents have, it all their own way." She kept her eyes steadily on his face, and he heard her breath come quickly. • "Could you boar it," he asked, "if he ■were sent on active service once again!" "Oh, yes, I could bear it," she said almost joyfully. "You see, I know how ho has fretted."

The winter passed and the spring came and the Laoys wore hack again at llayswater. But things were different with the old soldier. He was not going to be forgotten for ever. He had hnil a message from Sir Valentino Duinaresq. The friends and comrades of many years ago had met. The old soldier had braced himself up and got out his dross

suit—it was well the moth wasn't In it—and had dined with his old friend, lie had met various groat people, and they had made handsome, speeches to him. lie had been thinking of himself as forgotten, worn out, thrown away as worthless these five years back; yet his exploits seemed to have reached the oars and even kept in the memories -of these people. The world held au un-dreamt-of hope, after all. Whenever Captain Duinaresq was at liberty to run up to town, and that seemed to be pretty often, he was sure to find his way to the Bayswuter torrace, with the scrubhy little square at the back, whore Major Lacy had pitched his camp for his declining years. Often now, since the old hero had been recog-

nisod by the world, ho found no one iu but Selina. She was still working at the grey worsted stockings. < treat things hail happened to everyone but Selina during that last winter at Seat'ord. Both her sisters had come tack engaged to subalterns of. the line. Of course they could not hope, to marry ',' or years aim years; but meanwhile Mic.v wore exuberantly happy with their 'little new diamond rings, and their ilnilv lovi-lolioi-s, and their endless chatter luf their lovers and themselves. Less in request with her father, Selina seemed Mioi-e pushed into a grey corner of life 'than over.

One afternoon of autumn Captain iDumarcsq had called and found only fSelina. They sat. together in the big •window overlooking the tiny scrap of 'garden and the square, beyond. Captain Dumai-csq had taken the 'most comfortable- chair in the room and twas lying at full length in it. The room 'was ,1. guueruek one, but it contained lone or two chairs ill which a very tall ( inan could stretch himself, lie was looking at Selina with a certain lazy (content. She was still darning stoelclings. Though nothing good had happened to 'her, yet she looked better. Her cheeks 'had filled out, and had a faint color. She was plumper, or perhaps one only (imagined such things because a little ■air of felicity lay about her lips. Her ■dress, of yellowish Indian muslin became her. She had bought the material for about, five shillings and had made it iherself with an austerity that pleased Captain Dumarosq's eyes. Plain! Yes, she was plain still. She 'never would be anything but plain. But ■all of a . sudden he realised that her 'plainness meant the beauty of all the woj-ld to him.

"I think war will be declared soon," lin said, "and your father will get a command."

She started and looked at him, the quietly-happy air fading from off her lips. "\ou will he very lonelv," lie wont on. ■'Very,' she said'. "But I can boar il. i I shan't be the only woman. Poor } Maudie and Bel! Thev live in anguish lost Bertie and Cecil should be sent out."

"What would von do if you had a lover as well as a father at the war?" He. had drawn himself up iu the chair und was looking steadily at her. "I have never had a lover," she said in a bewildered wav. "How can I imagine what I would do?"

•■Vim have never had a lover! Have people no eyes iu their heads?"

A wounded Hush came info her cheeks. She took up the slocking she hail dropped and bent her eyes over it for a second. Then she looked at him, brave and patient. "I have never thought of lovers," she said. "Lovers are not for—for—plain women like ,me. .I had my father."

"Had they no eyes in their heads?" ho repealed, with a voice and manner she had never seen in him, never hoard. "Perhaps you are plain. Indeed, I think I thought you plain at first. Now I think you exquisite, adorable. My darling, love me, for I cannot do without you. "You are my home, my everything a woman can he to a man. fait your lovely 'eyes to ,me and tell me that you love me."

He carried her off her feet. She protested, while, ho silenced her with his kisses, that she. was plain, no longer young, undesirable, that ho would know it all when his madness passed. 'That madness will last for ever,'' ho said. "Why. you were never plain. You are bountiful', were always beautiful, will always he beautiful to me. Our hearts met liiM over your father, met never to part. I have never loved a woman before. How long will yon keep me before you tell me that you love lie held her face away from him, the better lo see it. Whv. she was beautiful. It was only that the scales had fallen from his eyes. She had been always beautiful.

"I don't deserve you." he said htimblv. ••but I love you. I have loved you all the time."

-And I love you." she said, with her ecstatic air of bewilderment.