HEARTS AFIRE.

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 75, 28 March 1924, Page 10

HEARTS AFIRE.

By MAY CHRISTIE

CHAPTER XLVIITj "Welcome, Peter!" ! Peter Armstrong strode through thn woods in a short cut to I'ear Tree Cottage: . The afternoon was amazingly hot, and he -was in a disappointed frame of mind for his quest for certain chemicals essential to an experiment he wished to conduct to-day had proved fruitless. That meant a trip to town tomorrow,' and he hated New York. He could telegraph of course, hut the manufacturers were so stupid that they'd probably misunderstand liis order, ttnd he'd better go himself instead. I Infernal nuisance! All the more so as he'd planned to call on Miss Prudence l'age to-morrow. | lie couldn't call on her to-day bcnuisn I that thesis for the "Scientific Xk'wh" must] be finished and mailed to-night: lie drew his watch out, Nearly live ' o'clock: The last post went at half-past eight: ' j J'he bother was. that he wasn't in a : ■writing mood, | Queer how his peace of mind had been assailed of Intel i When he came' down to this tiny | haven—Pear Tree Coltnpp—liulc did he Imagine it would lip In liny'woman's power , again to enter his heart. Five years itf;o his one and only love affair had ended with a smash. The girl valued money higlu't , than hearts, and ruthlessly had thrown him over, He had been bttdly hit, Forsworn nil ' Vrtmien, fW the future, lliii idealism, he (old himself, had ;;onp for good, And now , , , ', 1 i Udd how the l swectnesH nml imp t<; iieltity of the little lady «it' tlrecn Uhlilch hfld touched him I Nho was just n girl ~.,11 child! Bom.-hoW the failed forth nil his chivalry, his proles- ■ live instinct, \yiicn lie paw liei , at U'inston Towprs, - for' instance, among till (he preentnu pencocks, he wanted to carry lier oil to safety, tiway from all (he w.und of thrli l! laueotis li'.Ughter and their cackling tongues, I A white hutlcrlly flickered across his 1 path ns he enicrgL-d from the woods. Before him the heated air quivered iiln.ve the meadow grass, K.\tru«r«linarily warm for this time, of the year, wasn't. it? lie wouldn't be 11 liit 'surprised if' there were thunder, later. j Arrived at I'ear Tree Cottage, he went] into his laboratory to write. Kueh a struggle'to collect his thoughts I | Prudence—the white butterfly- -the sound jof the wood wren thrilling" joyously in j jthc high beeches, they weie all jumbled i together in liis thollglits. i Prudence—and beauty I Kverything in! nature that was lovely "he connected with' | that pretty maid. | Such a contrast to those women at the! Towers I Why did her mother let her \ Uit there,' a dove among the peacocks 2 Didn't I'mI deuce realise how ready they all were—I these less attractive -.vomen- to tear her jto piecesV ; But no —she was too innocent, too good, to understand lesser nature. ■ I And—here his heart gave an odd little' stab—she trusted that unreliable, slial- ' I low puppy of a Bertram Trayniore, al-' though his character was patent to thu world I I "I brought you a cup of tea. sir,"j i mumbled old Nannie at the door of the. J laboratory, tray in hand. i I I'cter looked up from his papers, absently. "Oh, yes. Very good of yon, I'm sure." I He rose at once and tuok'lhe tray from her, as though she'd been a duchess. I Old Nannie, in her queer way, adored I him. i "I'll lay your supper out, before I go,! sir. In the sitting room." I "Thank you. 1 shan't want anvtliinst till after half-past eight." The old woman stood, hesitating, v i hand on the door-knob. i I .Should she—or should she not—tell him of 'that hussy's advent ? She had taken Virginia's dollar it is j ' true, but, according to her code of ethics, i that involved no special loyalty to the, designing creature. j Her master went on scribbling, untouched tea beside him. Yes, he'd be heaps better with a wife tj look after him, thought the obi woman but never one like that .Miss Virginia Dale, or whatever high-flown nani'j she i called herself. She was no good, not she. Hadn't the third housemaid at the Towers —who was Nannie's grand-daugh-ter and even though a bit flighty, like all ' young gals were nowadays, had good commonsense—hadn't Minnie told her ' grandma that Miss Dale was no real lady, despite her airs?

And it was plain to see, the way she chased young Mr. Armstrong, and he so unsuspecting. . . He looked up now, smiling abstractedly at her. "Well, what is it, Nannie? Anything you want to sayf "Nothing sir, except that this morning a lady culled to see you. I told her as I didn't know rightly when you'd be back." "Who was she';" For a foolish moment he hoped it might be Prudence! "The lady from the Towers, sir. The one with the grand clothes and perfume." Disapproval was in every lino of Nannie's old nut-cracker face. Peter could scarcely keep a smile back. "That's ull right, Nannie. You needn't \vait." He nodded her away. "And don't admit any callers, pleu.se." The visitor had heon Virginia Dale without a doubt. Odd how the pirl sought out his company! Then he forgot the incident in complete immersion in his task.

It was after eight o'clock when he had finished, and he just caught the last mail at the local post office, dropping his bulky envelope in the postman's sack.

He took a long walk after that, and it was almost half past nine before he returned to his abode. A light was burning in the sitting room. Ivow that was odd, as old Xannie never stayed later than eight o'clock. Peter let himself in by latch-key, and— to his amazement —heard a woman's voice gaily greet him with a: — "Welcome, Peter!"

CHAPTER XUX. Unconventional. "To what," said Peter Armstrong j cooly, one hand on the door-knob of the j little sittingroom of Pear-Treee Cottage, I and a flash of steel in his usually calm t eyes, "to what am I indebted for the j unexpected pleasure of this visit?" I The fact that Virginia Dale —her i beauty enhanced by candlelight—was at her loveliest at that moment, and that j most men would have found her irresist- j ible, weighed with him not one jot. He despised her for the huntress that,' she was, ana some of the scorn showed clearly on his clean-cut, manly face. j Virginia, who had risen to her feet at the head of the little table, she herself had arranged so artistically for their I

Mippcr, tetp-a-tete, contrived to keep the coy smile on her lips, although uncomfortable qualms assailed her heart. "I came to keep you company, you hermit!" She tilted up her head provocatively. "And I'm beginning to think you're not exactly pleased to see mc!" Tlio titter which "followed this challenging remark as good as stated that it was madness to doubt for a moment ! the fact that all men must be pleased to • sec her! But Peter's stern face did not relax t a jot. "Might T inquire how you got in?" "Through the back door." "A-ah!" He drew the monosyllable . °"t, significantly, and his unexpected > visitor Hushed at his intonation. "You aren't very cordial, I must say.' , ■ She tossed her head. "And I brought ' I Wednesday—take one I yon such a lovely supper. Caviare— I I've, made the toast, and pate-de-foie i ffraa sandwiches, and cold salmon i , coaxed from the cook, and a bottlo of I "!).S claret " I Peter's lip curled. "If on charitable mission, why- not 1 take tho food to a more deserving cause? '. As for myself, it's wasted on mc. I like ! plain fare and Nannie has already preI parod my supper." J Virginia very nearly lost her temper. Cut, struggling for dignity, fehc con- ' j trived to say:— j "I'm sorry if I've intruded where I'm so obviously not wanted, and that my little 'surprise party' has failed. I'll po at once." Then, with a Hudden brain-wave, and realising that coyness as a weapon with this man had forever failed, she added: — "1 only came because I wanted your ' advice on an important matter. I'd never have come for myself. It's for someone else, who's in great trouble. I You know the Page girl who liveg at Urcen Ciables?" All! that shot went home. A quick concern, a vivid interest, replaced the cool scorn in his eyes. , "Nothing happened to her?" For the i life of him, he couldn't keep the eageriwks out of his voice. "You say she i& in trouble?" j "Yes. Will your majesty condescend to sit down at the table, for I'm hungry? 111 tell \Dii nil about it, then." ! l'cter KPi.t-.nl himself reluctantly. The whole proceedings were highly unconMMitional, lint he must get at the bottom of liit irvptir utterances anent the oni' trill in the world who mattered. ' "You can jrive mc a cup of coffee, please. 1 don't want anything else." I Virginia saw his perturbation, and I slii' remembered Mrs. Yansittsrt'a words lof warning. She must tread warily ' here. j "Of course you understand that I don't in the least believe her guilty," I hh- begun.' , assuming a timid deprecia- • tiny miinner quite foreijin to her usual j self-assurance. "But the whole affair j was most unfortunate. And then, on the tup of it, her running away from [ home " I "(iroat heavens! What do you mean?*' Peter half rose to his feet. "Speak out, can't youY" j So Virginia, immensely chagrined over this proof of his deep interest in the I "Pago chit." told her tale —and told it ■cleverly, she was "frightfully sorry," : for the girl. They wpre all "down" on ! her. and of course circumstances did look I rut In , r oild . . . but she —Virginia—had stood by Prudence Page, and always ! would. (>to. and etc. j "And between you all. you've driven :th<- child -that innocent child—out of her home/" half shouted Peter, not caring in (he slightest what Virginia thought of him. [ "Not I. Peter dear." Virginia took advantage of his agitation to lean over and clasp bis hand in her own perI fumed, highly-manicured fingers. With n wary eye on the (tee* ing moj ments she kept him on the subject of Prudcncf-s downfall. "She'll hfi home tomorrow, nuro as i sure." (She tried to reassuro her vie-a-vis. It was nearly half-past ton o'clock when Peter, seeing the time, said hurriedly:— "Say. you'll have to go or all the tongui's in the neighbourhood will 1)0 wagging! I—l appreciate your coming, now that I know your motive.—"—he got that out somehow, and meant it, too—"l'm going to do what I can to help the Pages find their daughter, and —and clear her—though, of course, it'e absurd to think—to suspect '• .lust then there was a Hash of lightning, and a terrific peal of thunder shook the frail old cottage. Virginia, she hated storms, and whom thunder and lightning literally prostrated, screamed, and hid her face. "Oh! Oh! We'll be killed! We'll be killed!" «

"It's all right."' Peter reassured hie shaking guest. He was worried that he couldn't pot her away at once, for fear of Mrs. Grundy—but he couldn't turn her out into the storm, especially as the rain was coming clown in buckets-full. "It will pass soon.' . It didn't pass, however. It grew worse. It seemed as though the very heavens had opened. Virginia , * fears were not assumed. She clung to Peter as though he were her one hope of safety, begging him not to leave her for an instant, forcing him to promise she could stay until the storm had ended. After nearly an hour had passed, and the thunder a.nd lightning and rain showed no signs of abating, he offered to run to another house and call up Mrs. Vansittart, reassuring her of Virginia's safety. At that, even in the midst of her terror, a sly, calculating look showed for a moment in Virginia's eyes had Peter only seen it. 'Tin often as late as this. Don't leave mc. I couldn't bear to be here, all by myself ... I couldn't." She clung to him. and he could see her bosom rise and fall in uncontrollable agitation. "Conventions must be ignored, then." He tried to reassure her, but he felt uncomfortable, and pursed this inconvenient .storm that detained her in his cottage to this hour. Time passed. The storm did not abate, but only seemed to grow the fiercer. A tree was struck by lightning in a neighbouring field and once Peter thought the cottage itself had been hit. it rocked so drunkenly. To make matter worse, too, Virginia herself collapsed, and lay moaning on the sofa clinging for dear life to his arm. It was after 3 a.m. before a lull came, and he contrived to get her started back to Winston Towers. (To be continued daily.)