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BY
ISABEL START ROBSON.
"To lin
THE HONGKONG DAILY PRESS, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 19ru, 1910.
found its fulfilment. It came before he had found the fitting time to speak; he was ill for week:
when he got about again Helen Sum mersen and her mother had laff Himla for Europe.
him, she had given him a new and absorbing interet in life, she had made him a better man but he never read line she wrote or fingered a book with her name on the title page without being reminded of that summer in Bimla, and the voies, the face and the charm of Holen Hammersen.
Ho bad what he tormod with a faint smaili “ a While the tiresome talent for crustacey." memory of that graze beautiful fuos, thone
startike
Üks that volca eyes, sweet
love to
He had wondered irritably as lio took the book ly sought bor. 'Shut up in his Janely house in / delayed first beat hoz visit to Hurtling was
have
of his into his letters, for wrote anacuuC-
He might have written to Helen, and at first he almost made up his mind to do so. He felt that she taunt have exposted a de Like Nature's sickly children in her lap
claration of the love he had made no attempt While sil the stronger brethren are at play." to cononal. Yet how could he offer her, with Basil Wyngste read the lines twice. They her youth and beauty, the maimed fragment stood as a heading to one of the stories in the of life which was all that now remained is bird's, hal power to air his heart with wild slim grey volume which he had taken from the him? He know her well enough to under-passionate longing, he had no right to speak of bor of looks asn! him that hy from the London stand that she would not hesitate, ni tant who wrote On the Threshold," and the Songs to another woman, least of all to the romsn library to which he subscribed,
but of a Lonely Heart." Friendship, however, he suffering he was helpless and The lines caught and hold his attention because count if he had already was her heart. That would but they so exactly described his own part in the prove another claim in her eyes. Yet to ask had the right to offer, and to sea har în his world, Gad ho suppressed his first impulso to toss for her love wuld be the act of a poltroon: home, and be answered her latter with an invita the book away. It was the work of a writer She
ia London Wild satisfactorily
orily settled. admired; he was only one
suitors. absolutely unknown to him, and Wyngale was he was young, barely twenty; she was zich tion to somo to Hurtling as soon as her bearin
many suffers It
Two weeks later he had board that she had api think a
was Bestooly likely a writer whom he did not know He would not write.
walesa
he deliberate rehod Englauil, soulil esarcely have proteusions to distinction. that
tion that they would meet again,
basioan with her publisher, from the box why one so little likely to mit bis Dornetshire, there was soarealy a chance that thon by the coming of friends from India, then, their paths would eross. Ho love her, all he for one reason and another, until Wyngato grow literary tastes should have been sent to him. the
Lauery
He told himself impatient. The title irritated him. On the Threshold could do for her was to stig out of her lifa.costless and
e qua- Tat to-night, feeling how little he had himselfly that she was deliberately patung obstacles and you abort of Life." He recognised the tation as from a pours of Christina Rossetti's, forgotten, Wyngate found himself wondering in the way of their meeting. Something of
crupt but as a tille for a book it was clumsy. Mora- whether Helen ever remembered those golden irritation may ovor it promised nailing which was not possi- hours at Bimis when friendship hovered on the suddenly Michael Heritage mistic and depressing, and his own life was groy
verge of love and nothing
mado them one.
Vyngste monta èrriage to Melchorter to mool her. and monotonous enough without importing floworld to be spokon wig was weating but the ing her arrival later in the day.
naked forward to driving Those who know anything of the invalid and
anythionsty tional ginom into it.
her back to furthing himself, but at the last they cling to strange fancies, one with verve and promptituds the weakest will his disabilities which solitude had excouraged, carry out their odd projects. A second pornsalo him acide to wait her within his own of On the Threshold produced in Wyugate four walb. a growing irritation at ita numerous faults. Hinowe critical faculties were highly developed, and he possessed su exquisite taste, He felt that the book possessed beauties he bad not at first porceived and, above all, truth, but it abonaded in faults of style and distinn. Before the day was over he had made up his mind to write to the author and point out those faults, advising her at the same time how to make good the work they so seriously marred, That the writer was a woman he felt sure, and probably not a young one; he was still more sure that she would not take the criticisms he offered amiss.
how
Be ind
He had opened the book at mađom, and his the solitary know harboured by them, and the babit of the rocks, that sensitiveness. to
yes had fallen on the quotation from Fitzgerald's translation of Calderon's "Mibly Magician." It was now to bim, though he was an admirer and student of Fitzgerald. Thlinen stood at the head of the shortest of the dozen stories which tunda up the book, and be read on idly; at the end of an hour he was still reading, nor did he lay down the volume until the last page had been turned. Then he threw it from him with a nervous gösturo, more moved than he carod to own.
bad
-
It was not powerful book, though It hold him, no reader of fiction, for three broken hours. The work was “amateurish in the extreme; it was manifestly a first book and scarcely showed that amount of talent which leals the critic to prophecy futura noroes. Nor was it likely that any other reader would be moved by it in the way Wyngate had besu. For him its interest lay mainly in the fact that it was owo story which was transcribed in its pages, his own life, related with tutorenslandpoint. sympathy and flis disappointment, his unhappiness, his resent- ment, lived and throbbed there. For the first time in his life he had met a mind which chimed
his vxactly with ora and say from his own outlook,
And that outlook, it must be confessed, was a droure one, though. Wyngate would have de- clared himself
imself portently satisfiest with it,
his misfortunes
Eight yours before something and luppened which but not only changed his whole life, bat chapel his mind and altered his mentut view. He came of a family whose sons and always been soldiers, and when he left Oxford Basil also had chosen that profession. His heart was in bis work, and those who watched bin sareer predicted
At the very outset he met with an
of her book,
►
It was such a day as he would have obesen for her coming. Spring was abroad through all the land with a warmth which was a forstaate Even the dilapidated old house of summer. on the Doros looked les grin and grey The perfume of a lilao bash a then ustal fow feat from Wygate's window was mingled with the fainter edar of mine and lonely stocks The twilight had fallen over the lungi ed garden, and the young crescent of the moon was just rising chose the shoulder of the hill. Wyngai sat listening for the sound of carriazo wheels which were bringing the visitor, renthese, almost apprehensive. Throughout the day ho had worried himself into a state of gorvos which culminated in something like a ra ret that he had so far deviated from habit an to send that invitation.
The day WAY OTE: NOW; any moment the carriage might turn in at the white gate Trice he got up to meet it, and then went baok to his chair. There was something appropriate "Mishad Heritare, frst in the
ܐferend
distiretion for him before many years had TDR and by no means lenient eriti face which tells Oy of nornfllad days, Sha
clapred ich blighted the high hopes he aut
sincere
his friends had entertained. A fell from his horse, at first disregarded. developed a serious Jameneas which made further military servicu impossible and condemned him while yet a young mou to a life of inactivity.
friends complained that he took Wyarata's his-trouble in the most uncomfortable fashion. Ho was immensely popular and sympathy, and unmersured, flowed in as soon as it doalt was known what a hard blew had been him. He rejected all sympathy and condolence. simply by refusing to talk of what had happened. He was not the firss by hundreds who bud be enlled to boor like misfortune. He would not whine
noither would ho protund tearesignation he did not feel. It was a bad thing he had bean o lled to bear; he would bear it in his own way and in silence.
He sent in his papers and disappeared from Bhula without taking love of anyone. Daly n few knew where he lind hidden himself during the past eight years,
wear read the story, and sout the 10-
He posted his latter and waited the reply with an impatience which was certainly at variance with the attitude of aloofness he had prided him
ng sels sels maintaining hitherto towards everything not strictly porconul. Some daya passed before the reply reached Hurtling. Wyngate had ad dressed the anther at her publisher's; this was dated from Manich. He was annoyed to fint it typewritten, A
privato woman who lettors laskod surely that fustidious delicacymaint dusky roots whore he had opened that which ho demanded in her sex. The substance little book which had proved a link between
them. Like may of the letter did not disappoint him. There way
auctor salitary student, the pleasure that he should find her bank so well appropri to and congruous had tavoin almost a worth attention as to have allowed him to fetish to Wyngate."
He was ton hear love not to have drain n discuss its faulte, and thanks that he hold
montal picture. DĚ
the Michal Heritage.” have done her the justics to beliese that she desired nothing so much us to mend them grave-eyed woman of sick-room experiences, Bho onclosed aunther story, and asked his opin af tender understanding of the subtle troubles ion upon it. The latter was sigrudichast of life of armpathy with what the world
Ufl reprchen Heritage," the marae which stood on the title would term motlid faucy
sible weakness.
certainly not
the the blushrose bloom of
enland youth
• cism of it, though to keep his fagers out would possibly have no pretension to beauty.
affairn
the though she mast have the charm of roodness of other's
part of
Io wished he had asked and intellectual poor. ole he had drawn up for his own cuaduct, Yot he had not foresworn kindness. Ho pietural her for a photograph. Io would not then have her poor, struggling to gain a fooling in the felt that uncomfortable souse of facing one who
something of u hardest and most precarions of all professions, must
a stranger despite the gifted, and yet with gifts which were never likes clpeo correspondence of twelve months ly to
to win her
her popular favour, for thes
public
All at one the door opened and someone cares little for ils minor singers.
ime softly over the carpet, a ball woninn. Three wosks Inter came another letter from wearing a long gray travelling cloak suž a Wynguto her kat. ission to send a volume of voil pashod back from Musich asking
At hor. dumbly. His fancy had not poems. It was the once which made that Hammer
the pou looked
the picture her like this, but at the sight of winter which followed different from any amali oral face, the grey long-lasked eyes, the Without firm mouth, he droppo book into his chair, Wyngate has spent nt Hurtline. foregoing the babits of the solitary life he was ripping the areas and cursing the weakness which robbed him for the moment of that ferging an interest in the outside world which
remusat of strength which was still lia To war daily growing in strength.
show hirasell to her at that hour of mesting, for what he was, a cripple, staver again to be as other men, that was his fate.
thor a
WAR
Little by little he learned a great deal about the woman whose literary advisor he had constituted himself. She was younger than he had thought. barely
сале
Frem kis mother he inherited & gray, dilapi wealthy, though like himsel-twoaty, and, Dorsetshire hills, a place remote from other himself, that drew them this, he told halsou his.
dated old house, built in a hollow of the
д
set about with ragged artross and ddlings, stretch of tangled garden, and within sight and souad of Um tumbling rea. For twenty years it had stood empty save for the two old sorvants who had charge of fit, and hero Wyngate settled hiraself, neither seeking nor desiring intercoures with the outside world. Frinds would have sought him area here, but Wyngate di
to tudi Garage visita. He made no new career, though there was much left which he simply stepped out of might have doge
all the battle of life, for the arena, gave up
To avery "yrs of his, a sters "no" hwi been said. Well, henceforth he would be merely a spectator of the great game men called life, not player, he told himself, forgottin: that, whatever a man's disabilities, caly with life can he cease to owe some debt of love and service to his fellow
For oi men
ho had lived at Hurting, and
Foara
One
of
kud even
& life, if not not aally happy. It fortunate that, that, though a soldier by
aud
a student and training, he was busk-lover. Those who knew him at Eton and
without near ties of home Kindrad.It was
together; both know what it was to suffer, to be alone,
Helan! You! You cannot en... She dropped on her knees by his side, her
Was it wrong to play such a trick upon you?" she asked, laughing tremulously. "I he looked at her with wonder in his eyes.
will understand She was surprisingly young still. She looked the merest slip of a girl as she koolt there, her head thrown bark, the lamplight on her lovely,
nobile face.
There wore for sabjects they did not dia. cuss in this strange correspondence. The frot that they might have met in a crowd and not recognised each other, Wyngate thought, gave freedom to their pons. At first he had resolved to tell her nothing of his own history or clrenta-
"How can it be wrong when we have learned stances. He lid not wish to disturb any iden ปล might have formed of him as of a man old, to know one author as we could never have scholarly, a safe repository for confidances; still done in any other way ?" she asked witfully, "You would never fare allowed us to meet at loss did he wish to reveal anything which might
make him an objrot of compassion.
Basil Wyngaty; from the first, when you There came a time, however, when to keep i did not write, I felt that you ment our lives to silence concerning the reasons for his delib drift grate withdrawal from the world seemel to be an act of injustice to himself. His sensi tive wind read between the lines of the letters which now came with regularity from Munich a faint wonder that he should be doing nothing in the world of art and literaturo, that
all,
tupart. "You ared? You remembered ?" he asked hoarsely. It didn't seem right to join your youth and beauty to my spoilt life."
"Yos, I oared, ant only the more that your life was, as you thought, utterly spoilt. I never understood until your letters told me why you
with his personaled himself that he was content he swuld he helding entirely aloof from the went away without a word. It was a mistake,
life of much of his own rank and intelligence, but of inixtaken wa, if we will, may wears a bles
we have been learning to vague reproach that he should |ba to be sing. All this year we
know each other as for lovers over do. Ona can a mere watcher of the work of others.
There was one letter in which she wrote with say so mach on paper that lips never dare to atter. Fall sorts of fault with my poor little
choice
also
Oxford sad to say that the army had robbed [ wisini tenderness of the dett every masu and When your first letter cams, that do diz?, "On.)
the world of letters
of letters of one who would have gone woman, whatever his or her woskuses and fail
turaed | for far. It was to books Wyngale
coming owes to humanity, the debt of love and days. panionship in these lonely, manterious
servico, merely In harmony with his resalve to be a spectator of life" he had promptly suppressed any inclination towards authorship, but he read much and widely There was scarcely a book of any importance which did not find its way to Hurtling; not a question of social interest political or scientific, which he did not pondor and settle in his own mind.
ev
the Threshold," I was very lonely. My had been dead just a ye
a year. hare many
I Wyanta read the letter again and again. friends, but no ous who claim kinship with
of you, be som me. This templation to h Michael Heritage" had given an unecio- fortable jolt to his faith in his own philosa. how in touch with you, was not to be resisted. sora hoart, missing phy. Was she, after all, wiser then he when I wrote that book out of she said that a man has no right to declare all my mother, and longing for you. There was a is over for him because his privato ambitions thought of you in every line, Basil, but I little are frustrated?
guessed that it would ever bridge the silencu which had fallen hatween us
He wrote then and told her the sorry story leaving out nothing, not even that love-dream
"What wonder that in some intangible way
And, he told himself contempinously, he of his past which was never anything more than it always spoke to me of you!" said Wyngate.
a dream, and he described for her frankly the life he had lived during the last eight years, Her reply was an intimation that She expected to be in England early in the spring, and that to his she desired to see him.
Lying on his coach in the firelight on the March
which this letter cams evening on
had neglected, on this partienisr ovenfug, boxful of such books for the slim volume of stories which, were ho a conscientions re
he would viewer,
But recoinmond to any read. Ho applied a dozen ancomplimentary ad-
carried it to jectives
to the book, yet he bedroom that night and stretched out his hand for it who he awoke in the morning. His would out own be in of why it honnie. hia, and yet deep down bis Something in the odd, half-foreign ps ing, the tender, wistful imagery, the unex pected turn of a sentence, brought back to lim as nothing else had over dous, the mem ory # woman he ones had known, with whose memory was bound tip the one ro -Dance of his
life youg As he lay in the grey light of the March morning staring throu. the surtained win dow, it all canis book to bim, with tela
our which, all life long, clings to one's first carly dream of love.
of
mour E
em
It was that with kopt a loyal to you deur, even when I most wanted to love "Michael Heritage,"
He drew her to bin. There was now no rivalry between the old love and the now. The mac's lonely, dwarfed life was over and the future no longer stretched before him" a fire grond by bred to sin fis, the hand which the women he loved was
of
be
Wyngste mai concious that there walio hot
he desired more than to see
had already draw him from his selfisk aloofness Heritage. His thoughts went back over the year since she came into his life, that empty life from life and its duties. Together they wald which she had no surprisingly filled. He was actieve much, together find h ppiness. Ther only just realising that she was not only filling were" On the Threshold," but lile was to it but shaping and woulding it into something bright and purposeful, though one of them must new and
and more hamun. She had made him still lie in Nataro's lap," ashamed of the slam philosophy of which he had once been secretly prond; she had taught him that there was work he might do and which he would at his peril leave undone.
To own so auch na this was to be near loving the woman who had worked the miracle, and He had been quartered at Simla, and the staring into the cheerfal wood fire, he told station bad as dom been more gay than it was himself that but for the fact of his disabled b that summer. Looking back, life there seemed and for that love dream of long ago, he would like that of another planot Happiness! How keenly be bad felt it, how confidently begged this woman who was as lonely as
himself to come and share his home,
PRINTING
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Le had hoped for it! And he had had every In some strange entan.ried way it was reason to hope; he was no sure of thational Heritage" herself who stood in the now as he had ever been. Bat for that divas way when he tried to put her before the girl ho trous sccident his dream might to easily have had loved years ago in Slimis. She interested turn out the Best Printing at Ronsonable Prics |
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