Evening Star Newspaper, October 12, 1930, Page 98

e The Strtjnge Discovery of a Long- Buried Romance Is the Subject of This Unusual Story by a Master of Fiction. Galsworthy Is the Author of *““The Forsyte Saga,” a History of an English Family. ILLUSTRATED BY HUGH HUTTON. N 1920 Soames Forsyte, on the death of his uncle Timothy, proved that will which, but for the law against ac- cumulations, would in course of time have produced such astounding re- sults. He had been at pains to explain to Timothy how, owing to that law, what Timothy intended would not come about; but Timothy had merely stared at him very hard and said: “Rubbage! Make it so!” And Soames had mace it. In any case the legal limit of accumulation would be reached, and that was as near to what the old chap wanted as could be. When, as executor, he came to the exami- nation of the papers left behind by Timothy, he had fresh confirmation of his uncle’s life- long passion for safety. Practically nothing %iad been destroyed. Seventy years and more of receipted bills and check books with the paid-out check forms carefully returned to them in order of date were found, and—since Timothy had been spoon-fed and incapable of paying a bill since before the war—burned out of hand. There was a mass of papers refer- ring to the publishing business, which he had abandone¢: for consols in 1879, and which had died, very fortunately for Soames, a natural death not long after. All these were commit- ted to the fire. But then—a far more serious matter—there were whole drawers full of private letters and odds and ends, not only Timothy’s, but of the three sisters who ha¢ made house with him since their father’s death, in 1850. And with that conscientiousness which ever distinguished him in an unconscientious world, Soames had decided to go through them first and destroy them afterward. It was no mean task. He sneezed his way through it doggedly, reading the spidery calligraphy of the Victorian era, in bundle after dirty bundle of yellowed letters. THE, fifteenth evening of his perusal, for he had had the lot conveyed by motor lorry down to Mapledurham, he came on the letter which forms the starting point of this narra- tion. It was inclosed in a yellow envelope bearing the address, “Miss Hatty Beecher,” was in Timothy’s handwriting, bore the date, “May the twenty-seventh, 1851,” and had obviously never been posted. Hatty Beecher! Why, that had been the maiden name of Hatty Chessman, the lively, elderly, somewhat raddled widow and friend of the family in his youth. He remembered her death in the Spring of 1899. She had left his aunts Juley and Hester £500 apiece. Soames began to read the letter with an sshamed curiosity, though it was nearly 70 years old and everybody dead; he continued to read it with a sort of emotion, as of one coming on blood in the tissue of a mummy. “My dear Hatty,” it began. “I hope it will not surprise you to receive from me” (“Obviously she never did,” thought Soames) “this missive which has caused me much anxiety, for I am not one of those light- hearted gentry who take the gravest steps in life without due consideration. Only the con- viction that my best interests, indeed my hap- piness, and, I trust, your happiness, are in- volved, have caused me to write this letter. “I have not, I hope, obtruded my attentions wpon you, but you will not, I equally hope, have failed to notice that the charms of your per- son and your character have made a great smpression upon me and that I seek your com- pany with an ever growing ardor. I cannot, then, think that it will be in the nature of a shock to you when, with all the gravity born of long consideration and many heart search- ings, I ask for the honor of your hand. “ff I am s0 fortunate as to meet with your spproval as a suitor, it will be my earnest en- deavor to provide for you a happy and pros- perous home, to sursound_you with every at- tention and to make you a good husband. As you know, I think, I am 31 years old, and my business is increasing. I am, indeed, slowly, I ° am happy to say, becoming a warm man; so that in material matters you will have all the comfort and, indeed, luxury with which I feel you should be surrounded. In the words of, I think, the Marquis of Montrose: “He either fears his fate too much Or his deserts are small ; Who dares not put it to the touch To win or lose it all.” . “As I say, I have not taken this step lightly, and if, my dear Hatty, it pleases you to crown my aspirations with success, I think you may rely on me to make you happy. I shall be on tenter-hooks until I have your reply, whick I hope will not be delayed beyond the morrow. I express to you my devoted admiration sad am, my dear Hatty, “Your faithful and-attached suitor, “TIMOTHY FORSYTE" WITH a faint grin Soames dropped the yel- lowed letter—six years older than himself —on his knee and sat brooding. Poor old Tim- othy! And he had never sent it. Why not? Never “put it to the touch” after all. If he remembered Hatty Chessman, the old boy had been well out of it. Bit of a dasher, Hatty Chessman, in her time, from all that he had heard! Still! There was the letter! Irrefutable evi- dence that Timothy had been human once upon a time. Eighteen fifty-one? The year of the Great Exhibition! Yes, they had been in the Bayswater road by then, Timothy and the girls, Ann, Juley, Hester! Fancy a thing ike that letttr coming out of the blue at this time of day! What had Hatty done that he didn’t send the letter? Or what had Timothy done? Eaten something that disagreed with him—he shouldn’t wonder—had a scare of some sort. The envelop had just Hatty’s name, but no address; was she, then, staying with them at the time or what?—she had been a great friend, he knew, of Juley and Hester! He put the letter back into its yellowed envelop with Timothy’s cypher in an oval medallion on the flap, dropped it into a tray, and went on with his task of conning over his uncle’s remains, Hallo! What were these? ‘Three thin red notebooks held together by a bit of dingy rainbqw-colored ribbon tied in a bow. Whose writing? Aunt Ann’s undoubted- ly, more upright, more distinct than any other in the family. A diary, by George, and pretty old! Yes, begun when they went to “the Nook,” November, 1850, and going on to 1855, the year that old Aunt Juley married Sep- timus Small. It would be old-fashioned twaddle! But suddenly Soames’ eye lighted again on the yellowed letter in the tray, and taking up the second volume of the diary, he turned its pages till he came to April, 1851: “April 3: We are all agog about the great exhibition that is to be opened in Hyde Park. They are making a great to-do and the park does not look itself at all. It has quite upset dear Timothy. He is afraid that it will at- tract many rogues and foreigners and that our house will be burgled.” Saomes’ eyes scanned on over the thin, pre- cise pages till he came to this: “May §: Hatty Beecher” (ah! here it was!) “came on April 13 to spend a month with us. She is a fine figure of a girl and has become buxom. We all went to the opening of the exhibition. It was such a crowd, and the dear little queeen was 30 becomingly dressed. It was an occasion I shall never forget. How the people cheered! “Timothy attended us; he seems quite taken with Hatty, he can hardly look at her. I hope she is really nice. Hester and Juley are al- ready full of her praises. They all want to walk in the park today, and look at the crowd going into the exhibition, though there was a windy drizzle; but as our dear father used to say, it was only ‘pride of the morning,’ for it soon cleared, and the sun shone. . . . “May 7: We all went to the opera. Dear Jolyon sent us his box—he put it so drolly. “Take care Timothy doesn’t lose his heart to Taglioni—sbe wouldn’t make him a good wife.” I must say it is really wonderful how she sup- ports herself on one toe, but Timothy seemed quite preoccupied. He was staring at Hatty's back all through the ballet. “We had great difficulty coming away. It rained and our crinolines got wet, the stupid coachman took some one else for Timothy and we missed our turn and had to walk outside the portico. But Hatty was in such spirits that it did not seem to matter. She is such a rattle. I wonder whether it is quite wise for dear Tim- othy to see s0 much of her. I am sure she is very well intentioned, but I feel her evening dresses are lower than is quite nice. I have given her my Brussels fichu. uMAY 13: Today we went to the Zoo. Hatty had never seen it. In some ways she is quite provincial, but she picks things up very fast. Dear Timothy came all the way from his office to meet us. I fear it was Hatty's beaux yeux rather than the animals which brought him. I confess that the Zoo does not give me much pleasure; it is very common. “Hatty insisted on mounting the elephant and, of course, Timothy was obliged to be her squire of dames, but I am sure he did not really enjoy it, and, indeed, he looked so grave bobbing be- hind her in the howdah that I could not help smiling and Hester laughed so that I thought she would burst her bonnet strings. I was obliged to check her, for fear dear Timothy should see. “May 17: James came to tea. He told us that Swithin has bought a new pair of grays, very spirited, and that he doesn’t know what will happen. He advised Hatty not to venture if Swithin -asked her to go driving. But Hatty - said, ‘I should adore it’ She certainly has a great deal of ‘courage, indeed, she is inclined to THE SUNDAY STAR, WASH] I saw a hansom cab stopping at our door. A man in an opera cloak got ot be rash. I was not sorry that Timothy should have the opportunity of seeing that she is so venturesome, for I feel more and more that he is attracted by her. “I do not remember when he has behaved quite as he has this last fortnight. And though in some ways she is attractive, I do not really think she would make him a good wife. I can- not disguise from myself, too, that it would cause a great disturbance in all our lives; but I tell myself constantly that I ought not to be selfish, and if it were for dear Timothy’s good, I hope I should not ‘care a brass farden,’ as Nicholas would put it in his droll way. “The girls are very fond of her and they do not see the little things that I see and which make me uneasy. I must hope for the best. I spoke to my dear Jolyon about it yesterday; he is the head of the family now that our dear father is gone, and he has good judgment. He said I was not to worry, Timothy would never ‘come up to the scratch.’ I thought it such a peculiar expression. “May 20: A Mr. Chessman has been to call. He came with Swithin. Juley thought he was elegantly dressed, but for my part I do not care for these large shepherd's plaid checks which seem to be all the rage now for gentlemen. “Hester and Hatty came in while we were still at tea, and Mr. Chessman was very attentive to Hatty. I hope I am not being unjust to her when I say that she made eyes at him in & way that I thought very forward. I was quite glad dear Timothy was not there. At least, to be honest, I am nat sure that it would not have been for the best if he could have seen her. “Swithin says that Mr. Chessman has to do with stocks and shares and is very clever in his profession, I must say that he seems to me much better suited to Hatty than Timothy could ever be. So perhaps it is providential that he came. “Swithin has asked her and Hester to make four at the Royal Toxophilite Society’s meeting on Saturday. He pooh-poohed James about the new horses and said that he was an old woman, I shall not tell James, it would only put him about. “In the evening after dinner I read Cowper aloud to the girls and Timothy. I chose his celebrated poem, ‘The Task,’ which begins with that daring line, ‘I sing the sofa.’ I did not read very long because Timothy seemed so sleepy; he works too hard all day in his stuffy office. I must say Hatty did not behave at all nicely. She made faces behind my back, which I could see perfectly well in the mirror; but, of course, I took no notice, because she is our guest. “MAY 23: We have quite a to-do, and I am not at all sure where my duty lies. This moming, after Timothy had gone to the office, I went to his study to dust the books which he bought with dear James when we came to live here. Who should I find there but Hatty, sit- ting in Timothy’s own srmchair, reading a book which I at once recognized as one of the little calf-bound volumes of Lord Byron. “She was so absorbed that she did not see me till I was close to her. I received quite a shock when I apprehended that the book was that dreadful ‘Don Juan’ that one has heard so much about. She did not even try to hide it, but said in a flippant way: “*Who'd have thought Timothy would have this book!” I am afraid I forgot myself, and spoke sharply. “‘I think, my dear Hatty,’ I said, ‘it is hardly genteel to come into a gentleman’s room and - assisting Hatty to alight. sit in his own armchair and read a book lik that. I am surprised at you.' She took m up quite rudely. “‘Why? Have you read it?” : “ ‘Of course I-have not read it,’ I replied. ““Then,’ she said pertly, ‘what do you kno about it?’ “‘It is common knowledge,’ I answered ‘that it is not a book for ladies.’ “She tossed her head with a very high color; but I continued to stand there looking at her, and she got up and put the book back whenc she had taken it. It was in my mind to im prove the occasion, but I remembered in time that she has no mother, and is our guest, so I only said: ‘You know, dear Hatty, Timoth does not like his books touched.” She laughed and said flippantly: ‘No, the don’t look as if they were meant to be read. “I could have shaken her, but I controlled myself. After all, she is young and high spirited, and I daresay it is rather quiet fo her in our little house. She flung out of the,) room and I have not seen her since. “I cannot make up my mind whether to tell| Timothy or not. I feel sure that he is seriously| epris. He looks at her so much when he thinks| nobody sees him, and he has been biting <his| fingers, and has not answered any question for some days; indeed, he does not seem to hear| us when we speak to him. I should tell him at once if I only knew how he would take it; buf men are so funny and I am not quite sure that it might not inflame his feelings rather than allay them. “I feel more and more, however, that Hatty would not prove the ideal mate for him. I think I must just wait and see, as our dear father used to say so often . . “May 25: Swithin sent his brougham this eve- ning for Hester and Hatty and they dined with him to meet Mr. Chessman and Mr. and Mrs. Traquair. Timothy looked very blue; all the evening he sat as glum as glum; and I noticed that when the girls came back in the highest spirits he was in such a fluster that he gave Hatty his own negus by mistake. When she was going to bed she left her shawl on the back of her chair, and whéen Timothy took it up to restore it to her, I saw him put it to his nose. “I have a feeling that Mr. Chessman is provi- dential. I questioned Hester closely about him and, from what she says, he and Hatty get on together like a house on fire. I do not suppose from what Swithin told us that he is so warm a man as dear Timothy, who has always been of a saving disposition and is doing so very well | now with his primers, and I am sure he cannot be so safe a man, but to do Hatty justice, I do not think she is of a mercenary turn of mind. It is very agitating, and I can only pray that all will turn out for the best . . .” uMAY 28: Timothy sent a message to me this morning that he was going to Brighton for some sea air and would not be back for a fortnight. You cannot imagine what a relief it was to me, for, after what happened last night, I was dreading having to do my duty. I cannot but think he knows what I had to tell him snd that it is all over for the best. He took a cab and caught the early train without saying goodbye or indeed seeing any of us. I must put it all down as clearly as I can.. “Yesterday evening Mr. and Mrs. called for Hatty to take her to dine and to their box at the opera afterwards. We four had a cosy little dinner at home just to ourselves, the first time since Hatty came. Cook had made some mince pies specially, and the pull-bread