The Summons

t of Harr

take yo

ter all, Hillyard was the great man of the evening, and that he should c

an wit, like the rest of Hardiman's guests, but the gaiety was apt to the occasion. She had the gift of a clear and musical laugh, and her small delicate face would wrinkle and pout into grimaces which gave

in for a mome

led him into a room bright with flowers and pictures. Curtains of purple brocade were drawn across the win

re alone?" H

es

towards him as he

e. Our marriage did not go smoothly. After three years I ran away-oh, not with any one I cared for; he happened to be there, that was all. After a

nd poured out for Hill

he said. "I did not mean that y

rred you

red," Hilly

bt about the success of "The Dark Tower." Stella Croyle sat very quietly, with the firelight playing upon her face and her delicate dress. Her vivacity had dropped

ubt," he said, reluct

"It is pleasant be

I did not know until I came into this room with how

oals glimpses of the long tale of days when endeavour was fruitless and

looked at hi

o you, since you wante

time?" exclai

me for

broke int

all wrought upon him. "I don't know," he repeated slowly. "I am waiting. But out of my queer life something more has got to come-something more and somethin

strange as he imagined it to be. He looked back upon it with too intense an interest to be its impartial judge. Certainl

, to a house in a garden of trees in another. The boy had been sent to a brand new day-school of excessive size, which gathered its pupils into its class-rooms at nine o'clock in the morning and dispersed them to their homes at f

e was little sympathy and understanding. He saw them at meals, an

iles to pick one of them up. My people would find the books lying about the house, and couldn't make head or tail of why I wanted to read them. There were two red-letter days: one when I first bought the two volumes of Herrick, the second when I tumbled upon De Quincey. That's the author to b

from the fireplace, and was

exclaimed, in a kin

shook h

k about half an ounce and threw the r

turned again

said rather

t even dreaming, simply waiting for the day to break. It seemed to him soft and wrong that a man should take his clothes off and lie comfortably between sheets. And then came another twist. When all the house was quiet, he would slip out of a ground-floor window and roam for hou

especially on moonlit nights, and compose poems and thoughts-you know-great, short thoughts." Hillyard laughed. "I was going to be a poet, you understand-a clear, full voice such as had seldom been heard

ver London. In summer that was wonderful! The Houses of Parliament. St Paul's like a silver bubble rising out of the mist, then, a

n a peak of

dn't kill yourse

y did," answe

ur parents

s, too, and we were all of passionate tempers. Besides, with all this reading, I didn't do particularly well at school. How could I when day after day I would march off from the house, leaving a smooth bed behind me in my room? We were thorny people. Quarrels were frequent. My mother had a phra

rld did you do?

ia in Spain. And I believe that saved my life.

, to be their spokesman on a deputation to the captain. Martin Hillyard went aft with the men and put their case for bett

hich laid hold upon her. It was curious to her to realise that this man talking to her here in the Ba

at place-Alican

of the

der why he was frightened lest you too

s h

table as you, so you wouldn't have noticed. B

d was p

o importance. I can't remember that I ever came across

intervened in the family feud. His pare

with a thous

you do w

t to O

hose years of

one passionate d

ey spires and towers, caught from the windows of a train, had long ago set the craving in his heart. Oxford had grown di

joyed it?"

alised that I couldn't write poetry. After that I cut my hair and joined the Wine Club. I stroked

he door of a treasure-house of memories. She was challenged. Very well. It was her humour to take the challenge up just to prove to h

of your

not-traditions. From his small old brown manor-house in a western county to his very ch

is his

im any more. She was staring into the fire, and her bod

e. "I don't know what has become of him. You see, I had ninety po

w. You will resume your friend

going away in

r l

t mon

d f

er

rry," sa

a great wandering amongst wide spaces. The journey had been long since planned,

nster, writing and writing and writing, but when I thought of this journey to be, cert

Year reviving

l soul to sol

llyard, lost in the anticipation of his journ

re you going

he Su

d into the fire without moving, seeking to piece together a picture in

at the interest which Mrs. Croyle was taking in his itinerary. She was clearly a superior person. "F

unate," Stella int

d. It looked as if nothing wou

to be going i

ou

for a mantelshelf in a

her voice s

p her hand to check him, and turned her face still f

" she explained. "He is stationed somewhere in that co

yard watching her wistful face and the droop of her shoulders understood at last the tru

he mastery of her voice. It was important to her that her next words shoul

ld like him to have news of me. I should like him also-oh, not

ll the vicissitudes of his life seemed now quite trivial and small. Here were tears falling and Hillyard was unused to tears. Nor had he ever heard so poignant a longing in any

on't f

her hands toget

re of that, Mrs. Croyle! If I meet

nk y

the tears from her

cried, and she helped Hillyard on with his coat. She went to t

was written on her heart. And one phrase had kindled a tiny spark of hope. She had put it aside by itself, wanting more knowledge about

d to join the army. Wha

rd hes

t tell you

N

d and the recollection of Stella Croyle's t

see how I can," he

ent that he should refuse her so small a thing. Then her manner changed.

ible to practical people like women-thus Stella Croyle's thoughts ran-but to be taken note of very carefully. High-flown motives from a world of white angels, where no doubt

be one of those impracticable notions which had whipped Harry Luttrell up to the rupture of t

shifting from one foot to the other. "The week after the eights. We

dense men could be to be sure! What in the worl

at really you could see little but the line of sky above the trees, and the flash of the water at the end of the stroke. I doubt if Luttrell

Stella penitently. "I w

hat Harry Luttrell had left her for some reason quite outside themselv

layford Regiment. It was his home regiment and the tradition of the family binding

Harry--" Stella int

up. "Much more! The Clayfords ran in the South African War, and ran badly. T

rned the problem

was rather doubtful. Then she looked at t

in the next war. It was an obligation of honour on Harry to

t I? Harry Luttrell was

ken. He feared to become the slovenly soldier if he idled longer in England. It was not because he was tired of her, that the separation had come. Thus she reasoned, and she reasoned just in one little respect wrong. She had the real secret without a doubt, that

stood aside now from the door. "It was kind of you t

was unchanged at Stockholm, it might not be so now. Hillyard rang her up on the telephone the next morning and warm in his sympathy asked her to lunch with him. But it was a pitiful little voice which replied to him. S

sailed for Port Said and questioned him about Stella Croyle discreetly. "She runs to