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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1932-05-26, Page 6g mmSMYl MAY 20th, 1933 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE &he Jfouse of breams £1 BY MARGARET PEDLAR CHAPTER I The Waudei’-Fever The great spaces of the hall seem­ ed to Slope away into impenetrable gloom; velvet darkness deepening imperceptibly into sable density of panelled wall; huge, smoke-blacken­ ed beams, stretching wide arms across the roof, showing only as a dim lattice-work of ebony, fretting the shadowy twilight overhead. At the furthermost end, like a giant golden eye winking sleepily through the dark, smouldered a fire of logs, and near this, in the lumin­ ous circle of its warmth, a man and woman were seated at a table lit by tall wax candles in branched candle­ sticks. With its twinkling points of light, and the fire’s red glow quiver­ ing across its shining surface, the table gleamed out like a jewel in a sombre setting—a vivid splash of light in the grey immensity of dusk- enfolded hall. Dinner was evidently just over, for the candlelight shone softly on satin-skinned fruit, wliile wond^j’- ful gold-veined glass flecked the ■dark pool of polished mahogany with delicate lines and ripples of op­ alescent colour. A silence had fallen on the two who had been dining. They had been gay enough together throughout the course of the meal, but, now that the servants had brought coffee and withdrawn, it seemed as though the stillness—that queer, ghostly, mem­ ory haunted stillness which lurks in the dim, disused recesses of a place —had crept out from the four cor­ ners of the hall and were stealing upon them, little by little, as the tide encroaches on the shore,,till it Rad lapped them round in a curious .atmosphere of oppression. The woman acknowledged it by a •restless twist of her slim shoulders. :She was quite young—not more than twenty—and as she glanced half-en- ■quiringly at the man seated oppos­ ite hex’ there was sufficiency of like­ ness between the two to warrant the assumption that they were father and daughter. In each there was the same intel­ ligent, wide brow, the same straight •nose with sensitively cut nostrils— though a smaller and daintier affair in the feminine edition, and barred .across the top by a little string of golden freckles—and, above all, the same determined, pointed chin with the contradictory cleft in it that chai'med away its obstinacy. But here the likeness ended. It was from someone other than the dark-browed man with his dreaming poet’s eyes—■which were neither purple nor grey, but a mixtue of the two—that Jean Peterson had inher­ ited her beesh-leaf brown hair, ting­ ed with warm red where the light glinted .on it, and her vivid hazel eyes—eyes that were sometimes golden ‘like the heart of a topaz and sometimes,clear .and still and brown like the Waters of some quiet pool cradled among the rocks of a moor-, ’ ’••land stream. They were like that now-—clear and wide-open, with a certain pen­ sive, half-humorous questioning in them. “Well?” she said, at last breaking the long silence. “What is 4t?”-> The man looked across at her, smiling a little. “Why should it he—anything?” he demanded. ■She laughed amusedly. “Oh, Glyn dear,”—she never made use of the conventional address of “father.” Glyn Peterson would have disliked it intensely if she had *—“Oh, Glyn dear. I haven’t been your daughter for twenty years with­ out learning to divine when you are cudgeling your brains as to the pret­ tiest way of introducing a disagree­ able topic.” Peterson grinned a little. He tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire and lit a fresh one before replying. “On this occasion,” he observed at last,; slowly, “the topic is not necessarily a disagreeable one. Jehh” —his quizzical glance raked his face suddenly-—‘“how would you like to go to England?” “To England?" Her -tone held the same incredu­ lous excitement that anyone unex­ pectedly invited to week-end at El Dorado might be expected to evince. “England, Glyn, ,do yo.u realiy mean tpr tafce me there at last?” “Y.otiTHlke- to go then?” A keen observer might have- noticed a shade of relief pass over Peterson's face. “Like it? It’s the one thing above all others that I’ve longed for. it seems so ridiepieus. to he an Eng­ lishwoman and yet never once to have set foot in England/’ The man’s eyes clouded, “You’re not—entirely—English/’ he said in a low voice. Jean knew from what memory the quick correction sprang, Her mo­ ther, the beautiful opera singer who had been the one romance of Glyn Peterson’s life, had been of French extraction. “I know,” she returned soberly. “Yet I think I’m mostly conscious of being English. I believe it’s just the very fact that I know Paris— Rome—-Vienna—so well, and noth­ ing at all about England, that makes me feel more absolutey Engish than anything else/’ A spark of amusement lit itself in Peterson’s eyes. “How truly feminine!” he com­ mented drily, Jean nodded. “I’m afraid it’s rather illogical of me.” Her father blew a thin stream of smoke into the air. “iThank God for it!” he replied lightly. “It’s the cussed contradic­ toriness of your sex that makes it If women were log-so enchanting. ical the world would be as obvious and boring as the average man. He relapsed into a dreaming sil­ ence. Jean broke it rather .hesi­ tantly. You’ve never suggested taking me to England before.” His face darkened suddenly, was an extraordinarily face—expressive as a ing every shade of changes of mood. “There’s no sense about England,” he “It’s a dull corner of the world— bristling with the proprieties.” Jean realized how very complete­ ly, from his own point of view, he had answered her. Romance, beauty, the sheer from the breath of son. It expressive child’s reflect- his constant of adventure said shortly. delight of utter freedom conventions were as .the his nostrils to Glyn Peter- iBorn to the purple, as it were, of an old English county family, he had stifled in the conventional atmos­ phere of his upbringing. There had been moments of wild rebellion, bit­ ter outbursts against the established order of things, but these had been sedulously checked and discouraged by his father, a man of iron will, who took himself and his position intensely serous. - Ultimately, Glyn had come to ac­ cept with more or less philosophy the fact of his heirship to old estates and old traditions, with their inev­ itable responsibilities and claims, and he was just preparing to fulfil his parents’ wishes by marrying, ■suitably and conventionally, when Jacqueline Mavory,' the beautiful half-French opera singer, had ed into his horizon. In a moment the world was formed. Artist soul called to soul; the romantic vein in the man, ■so long checked and thwarted, sud­ denly asserted itself irresistibly, and the very day before that appointed for his wedding, he and Jacqueline ran away together in search of hap­ piness. . And they had found “County” had been shocked; father, unbending descendant old Scottish Convenators, his creed outraged, had broken the blow; but the runaway had found what they sought. At Beirnfels, a beautiful schloss on the eastern border of stria, remote from the world surrounded by forest-clad hills, Glyn Peterson and Jacqueline had lived in a romantically happy existence, roaming the world whenever the wander-fever seized them, hut al­ ways returning to Schloss Beirnfels, where Peterson had contrived a backgronud of almost exotic richness for the adored woman who had flung her career to the winds in order to become his The birth of Jean, their marriage, had regarded by both of convience. It interrupted their idyll. There were so essentially lovers that no third—not even a third born of love’s consummation-— could be other than superfluous. They had proceeded to shift the new responsibility with characteris­ tic lightheartedness. A small army of nursemaids arid governesses were engaged, and later, when Jean was old enough, she whs despatched to ope of the best Continental schools, whist her parents continued their custdmary happy-go-lucky existence uninterruptedly, * During the holi­ days she shared their wanderings, and Egypt and the southern coast of Europe became familiar places to her. At the age of seventeen, jean came home to live at Beirnfels, [’thenceforth regarding her unprae- | deal parents with a species of kindly flash- trans­ artist it. The 'Glyn’s of the whole under lovers old Au- an d wife. two years after been frankly them as an in- interr-upted tolerance and amusement. The three of them had lived quite happily to­ gether, though Jean always the odd man had accepted the fact humorous philosophy it of half its sting. Then, two years later, Jacqueline had developed rapid consumption, and though Glyn hurried her away to M'ontavap, in the Swiss Alps, there had peen no combating the disease, and tlxe romance of a great love had closed down suddenly into the grey shadows of death. Peterson pad been like a man de­ mented. For a time he had disap­ peared, and no one ever knew, either then or later, how he had first faced the grim tragedy which had over­ taken him. Jean had patiently awaited his re­ turn to Beirnfels. When at last he came, he told her that it was the most beautiful thing which could have happened—that Jacqueline should have died in the zenith of ther love. “We never knew the downward swing of the pendulum,” he explain­ ed. “And when we meet again it Will b& as young lovers who have never grown tired. I shall always remember Jasque'line as still perfect­ ly beautiful—never insulted by old age. And when she thinks of me— well; I’m still a ‘personable* fellow, as they say------” “My dear Glyn, you’re still a boy! You've grown up,” Jean made ans­ wer. To her he seemed a sort of Peter Pan among men. She had been amazed—although in a sense relieved—to find how swiftly he had rallied. It seemed almost as though his intense loath­ ing of the onset of old age and de­ cay, of that slow cooling of passion and gradual decline of faculties which age brings, had served reconcile him to the loss of the man he had worshipped whilst there had peen no dimming of physical perfection, no blunting of the fine edge of their love. It was easily comprehensible that to two such temperamental, joy­ loving beings as Glyn and Jacqueline England, with her neutral-tinte'd* skies and strictness of convention, had made litt'le appeal, and Jean could with difficulty harmonize the suddenly projected visit to England with her knowledge of her father’s idiosyncrasies. • • It was just possible of course, since all which had meant happiness to him lay in a little mountain ceme­ tery in Switzerland, that it no longer mattered to Peterson where he so­ journed. One place might be as bad—as another. Rather diffidently Jean voiced doubts, ‘recalling him from the erie into which he had fallen. “I go to England?” he exclaimed. “God forbid! No, you would go with­ out me.” “Without you?” Peterson sprang up and began pacing the floor. “Yes, without me. I’m going away. I—I can’t stay here any long­ er. I’ve tried, Jean, for your sake” —-he looked across at her with a kind of appeal in his eyes—“but I can’t stand it. I must move on—get away somewhere by myself. Beira fels—without her”— He broke off abruptly and stood still, staring down into the heart of the fire. ‘Then he added in a wrung voice: “It will be year ago . . . to-mor­ row.” Jean was silent. Never before had he let her see the raw wound in his soul. Latterly she had divined a growing restlessness in him, sensed the return of the wander-fever which sometimes obsessed him, but she had not realised that it was pain—sheer, intolerable pain-—which was this time driving him forth from the place that had held his happiness. He had appeared so little changed after Jacqueline’s death, so much tile wayward, essentially lovable and un­ practical creature of former times, able to find supreme delight in a sunset, oi’ an exquisite picture, or a wild ride across the purple hills, that jean had sometimes marvelled how easily he seemed able to forget. And, after all, he had not forgot­ ten—had never been able to forget. 1 The gay, debonair side which lie had shown the world1—that same rather selfish, beauty-loving, charm­ ing personality she had always known—had been only a shell, a husk hiding a hurt that had never healed—that never would find heal­ ing in this world. Jean felt herself submerged be­ neath' a wave of self-reproach that she cduld have thus crudely accept*- ed'Glyn’s attitude at its face value. But it whs Useless to give expres- faad remained out; hut she with a certain which robbed Sion to her penitence, She could find no words which might not wound, and while she was still dully trying to readjust her mind to this new aspect of things, hex’ father’s voice broke across her thoughts so smooth, fjolished, ytfith just its usual inflection of whimsical amusement, rather as though the world were a good sort of joke iu which he found himself constrained to take part. ’Tve made the most paternal ar­ rangements for your welfare in my absence, jean. I want to discuss them with you. You see, I couldn’t take you with nie—I don’t know’ in the least where I’m going or where I shall fetch up. That's the charm of it”-—his face kindling, “And it wouldn't be right or proper for me to drag a young woman of your age —and attractions—half ovex* the world with me.” , By which Jean, not in the least deceived by his air of conscious rec­ titude, comprehended that he didn’t want to be bothered with was bidding for freedom, njelled by any petticoats. “So I’ve written .to my QHje Ixeter Established 187/3 and 1887 Published every Thursday mornfiB at Exeter, Ontario to wo- yet her her rev- old pal, Lady Anne Brennan,” pursued Pet­ erson, “asking if you may stay with her for a little, delightful time. most charming woman I knew in­ England.” “That must be rather more than twenty years ago,” observed Jean drily. “She may have altered a lot since then.” Peterson frowned. He hated to have objections raised to any plan that particularly appealed to him. , “Rubbish! Why should she change? Anne was not the sort of woman to change.” Jean was perfectly aware that her father hadn’t the least wish to “dis­ cuss” his pi’oposals with her, as he had said. What he really wanted was to tell her about them arid for her to approve and endorse them with enthusiasm—which is more or less what a man usually wants when he suggests discussing plans with liis womankind. So now, recognizing that he had all his arrangements cut and dried, Jean philosophically accepted the fact and prepared to fall in with them. “And has Lady Anne signified her readiness to 'take me in for an in­ definite period?” she inquired. “I haven’t had her answer yet. But I have no doubt at all what form it will take. It will be a splendid opportunity for you, altogether. You know, Jean”—'pictorially >—| “you ought really to see the '.stately homes of England.’ Why, they’re—they’re your birthright!” (Continued next week). I You would have a She was quite the slats’ diary Friday—well ant Enxmys doctor mebby isent mutch good hut he is pritty slick enuy wjatys. Yesterday Ant Emmy went to him on account of she has got sumthing wrong with her stum- miclc and Re told her to drink more milk and she re- lyecj and sed she has been drink­ ing milk, evry day (for over twenty 7 years and he sed well if that is a case why you better cut it out altogether mebby. Saerday—-Ma was in a Picket to^ nite, she had ben envited to a shour for a Bride and she forgot to by sumpthing so she sent pa down town to by sunaphting she cud take and pa went down and when he cum hoxne he had brought a box of Aspern for the Bride. Sunday—Wile we «ras getting ready for chirch this morning Joe Hix cum by and sed he had to go doan town to buy a Gesket and Ant Emmy got all Xcited bequz she thot snxn 1 must be ded which he was hying a Gasket for., Munday—-As Jake and me cum home from Scout meating tonite we herd Lizzy Ricks fella coaxing for a kiss out in the HamiCk arid she sed No and he sed. Yure crazy and she sed why and he becuz you seam to think them lips of yures are just made to eat and whistle with. Teusday—‘Unkel Ben has bot self a Silencer for his gun so wher he goe out and Shutes a bit why the pool* little fellow wont helf to listen to the turible Xploshin of the shot Gun. Wensday—Ma has ben havaing a lot of hed akes here of lately and today she went to see the dr. and he Xamined her and finely told her she had bad eyes and shud ought to go to a Optimist and get Fitted for a pair of glasses. , Thirsday—'Mrs. Gillern made Mr Gillem by hisself a ottomatick tipe writer this weak and Mr. Gillem diddent like it so well. I guess it all started when Mr. Gillem made her put up with a lecterick re frig- gerator. his- now rab- z 78-POUND STURGEON last and. STRUCK' BY LIGHTNING During the elecf^gtfitOTrii ’of week lightning struck the barn fire broke out at Mr. Israel Hurl­ bert’s, Mitchell. The'’gire^ brig'nSe were summoned and ■ were able' & extinguish the flames before much damage had been done. When the firemen arrived Mr. Hurlbert was lying on the couch in the house not knowing the barn was on fire. It was only when he heard the truck and the men that' he went to the door to inquire what was wrong. Louis McLeod, commercial fisher­ man, of Bayfield, captured a 78-lb. sturgeon last week. ‘The fish got tangled up in the ne^s and when Mr. McLeod raised his nets the big fish came up like a log but was still alive. The nets were at a point between Grand Bend and-Kettle Point. Stur­ geon ^catches^wer^ common in these fishing waters thirty or forty years ago but it is on very rare occasions that -onecis mow^eamght.- ■ > I .. FALLS DOWN STAIRS On Thursday of last week Mr.s. John Roger, Sr., of Mitchell, while descending the stairs at her home tripped and fell to the bottom. Dr. Smith was called and found she was suffering principally from shock, al­ though receiving a cut on the head. Our “End Depression” Prices a Genuine Goodrich Tire 26% better "End Depression” is no joke, either. There's no depression around „ here since we priced genuine Goodrich Tires, made by the oldest and most experienced tire manufacturer, down as low as $0.00! 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(po&t, who has had many books of WTse- ptiblished addressed the stu­ dents and staff of Mie Clinton Coil- egthto Institute, arid Othe^d who had. been invited inv in the Collegiate auditorium- Mi*. McDonald is a pleasing speaker .and also read a number of. .his poems cqm^mWrig on them arid mehtiQnirtg interesting cir­ cumstances "Wicii they hail been written. -