THE SHADOW OF THE PAST

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 56, Issue 208, 16 June 1936, Page 7

THE SHADOW OF THE PAST

2; SERIAL STORY ::

(Ben Bolt.) ; : Copyright. 3 =

CHAPTER VIII. In the ballroom Conyngham .found Nora O’Hlagan in conversation with the Duchess, and looking a trifle tired. He glanced at his card and said qulctly: “My dance, Miss O’Hagan.” _ Miss O’Hagan smiled and took hls offered arm, and then the Duchess-m—----terposed. “Nora is tired, chk, though she won’t say so for worlds. Why don’t you persuade her to art 11: out.” Conyngham glanced at his partner. ‘ ‘Shall we, Miss O’Hagan? If you are tired it will be better than dancing.” “If you like,” she replied quietly. “Then we will go into the conservatory. It is cooler there.” He smiled at the Duchess, then piloted his partIner round the room to the conservatory. Entering, as they walked, he looked around him for a seat. He found one overshadowed by a couple of tree ferns, quiet and secluded and made for lovers. He led her towards ‘it 3 but the girl stopped. 3 “Oh, no! not there,” she said iquickly. Conyngham did not ask the reason for this protest. By some subtle .I.:tuition he understood that she had sat there with Prince Murad, and that it would spoil their tete-a-tete if they sat in the same place together. Without a word: he led her forward until they came to a second recess, near which an ornamental fountain played, and there they seated them—selves side by side. He glanced at her, seated in such swaet proximity. There was just the suspicion of a flush in her beautiful face, the long lashes hid the eyes so full of dreams, and a touch of tremulousness showed about the mobile lips. All that he knew of that dark night of two months back flashed vividly to his mind, then the love within him surged up, and brushed the knowledge aside as if it had been a gossamer thread barring his way to Paradise. “Nora!” he said hoarsely. “Nora!” For a brief moment the dark eyes were unveiled, and flashed on him half-questionably ; but in the depths of them he saw that which made his heart beat quickly. The girl said nothing in answer, and after a very slight pause he continued, “I am glad that 'the Duchess suggested that we should sit out the dance, because I wanted to talk to you. . . . I have something to say to you.” Still no word from her, but he saw the colour deepen in her face and marked her bosom’s quicker rise and fall; and continued hopefully: “You will know what a match-maker the Duchess it . . . .” He broke off and gave a short laugh. “It is her great ambition in life to see all her friends safely married to one another.” A fleeting smile crossed the beautiful face by his side, and, smiling himself, he continued, “She has striven her hardest to find me a wife for the last ;three years.” 1 Again the smile flashed in the girl's ‘face, and she spoke for the first time. 1“Yon must be very difficult to :please.”

“I am,” he laughed back. “But at last her patience is rewarded. Two months ago she told me of the latest choice for me, and I was forced again to disappoint her 3 because that day I had made my own choice, as a man should, and I had to tell her that my heart was already engaged." “That was altogether too bad,” said Nora. smilingly. “It was not so bad as it sounds,” he answered. “But I had made up my mind, or it had been made up for me in the only way that it should be. Only that very afternoon I had been seated on the terrace at Ingleby when a gm passed by, and as she passed our eyes met once. I had not been introduced to her, she was altogether unkncwn to me, but in that moment I knew that I. had seen the one woman in this v.O; ld whom I would care to make my wife, because by that one fleeting look love ieaped in my heart. .. . . Do you remember that afternoon, Nora?” The girl bent her head in assent, but did: not speak, and he continued, “Since that afternoon I have been thinking of you every moment, Nora, and waiting for the time whenl could ask you to be my wife.” He leoked at the girl’s averted face, then he ask—ed softly, “Dearest, do I hope for too much?” '

He waited a trifle anxiously for her reply, wondering if he had been too precipitate, and whether it would not have been better to have waited a. little while longer. Her face was still averted, and so much of it as he could see was the index of conflicting emotions. At length the reply came in a. tremu—lous whisper. “I—l do not know.”

“But you know if you love me, Nora? If you do there is no reason why we should: not be happy to—gether; and the Duchess would be delighted, for you were the wife She had chosen for me, you, whom my heart had chosen for itself before even I knew your name. Surely you know if you love me, if—r-J’ “I have no doubt of that!” she whispered as the blood dyed her face. “Then, dearest, there can be no good reason why you should hesitate. Love is the basis of happiness, and it is the one justification of marriage. You and I were born for each other. I felt it in that moment when I first saw you. And if you feel the same, Nora—” He broke off, as he caught the expression on her face. With the affection that was visibly written there, there mingled some other feeling, and, as he watched, perplexity and distress clouded its radiance.

“I do feel the same,” she said, “and yet different. I feel as if there were some reason why I ought not to agree with you; something that I have forgotten . . . I cannot tell what Tt is,” she added desperately. “I cannot remember.”

For one moment fear lest she should recall the events of that night at Ingle,by held him dumb. If she did-—— He ibroke in hastily. 1 “Do not try, dearest. Ido not want you to remember anything that might come between us. I want you only to remember that we love each other, that you have the right to be happy-LI” “But have I?” she illterjected. Her eyes were full. of trouble; he feared that the remembrance he dread—ed was about to break upon her, and he answer-ed quickly and fervently. “Of course, you have, dearest, and you must take it, we must take it together as man and woman have done since the beginning of the world.’ ’ He gave a hasty glance round. The music of the waltz came from the ballroom, and from the maze of green the other side of the fountain sounded the quick laughter of a woman—a, woman who was glad. To all intents and purposes they were alone. He slipped his arm round her, and drew her gently towards him. “Together, Nora!” he whispered passionately. “You and I must take it together.” She thrilled at his touch, the per—plexity died out of her eyes, and only love shone in them. “Yes, together, Dick,” she whispered back. Ten minutes later they were back in the ballroom looking tor the Duchess. She was dancing with the Portugese Ambassador, and enjoying herself amazingly, for her partner knew how to waltz; but she broke her pleasure in half, ruthlessly. “Excuse me, Senior Itodreigo. There are two people there waiting to tell me news which I am dying to hear.” “Your Grace must not die—~in my arms,” laughed the ambassador; “rather must you live to waltz an—other day.” \Vithdrawing from the dance, he gave her his arm, and led her towards the place she indicated; then, being a discerning man, he left her. The Duchess looked at her two friends with searching eyes. There was a look of‘ demure happiness about the girl that she had never seen before, and Conyngham’s smiling eyes told her that he had. put his fortune to the proof. “Duchess,” he said, gaily, “allow me to present you to my wife that-is-to—be.” Nora looked at her and smiled. “I hope you will not mind.” “Mind! Why, my dear, I feel like that man in Kipling—~a German, wasn’t he? who said, ‘Und I work miracles, und dey come off !’ The worst of miracles is that they 'do not always do so, and: you can’t rely upon the things. But this one has, as I hoped it would and I am not half astonished as that old German was, because I knew you two were bound to fall in love with each other, and you have just shown your good sense by doing so.” “Thank you, Duchess,” replied Conyngham, his eyes twinkling with merriment, “it is good to have the opinion of an‘expert that we have not quite lost our heads, that our good sense is yet—:2 ““79 shall have to arrange a date for the wedding broke in the Duchess “and there will be ever so much to talk over. Nora, if you have had sufficient of this,” she waved a hand comprehensively round the room, “I think we might desert the rest of our partners. They can console themselves at the buffet; I hear the champagne is quite good. And at home we can have a nice, quiet talk to-night, w‘hilst tomorrow I have a score of engagements.” ~

“Are you going to settle the matter out of hand, to—niglit Duchess?” inquired Conyngham, at the same time flashing a quizzing glance at Nora. “If so, I will go down to Doctors’ Commons in the morning and get a special license. I’m afraid it is too late tonight.” At the suggestion of his words, Nora blushed divinely, whilst the Duchess retorted, “I shall punish you for that, Dick, by not allowing you to come back with us!”

“I hear the champagne is quite good,” he quoted smilingly. The Duchess. ]aughed=. “You can come round in the morning—«if your head is not too bad. Come, Nora, there’s Matthewson hovering round in the background, and I am sure you do not want to dance with him any more.”

“I may accompany you to the street, at least, Duchess,” said Conyngham. “As a. special favour, you may. I daresay it will help to drive Matthewson away.” “I have always longed to be of some use in life,” laughed Conyngllam. “Now my ambition is satisfied, and I rejoice to feel that I am a nuisance to another man.”

He waited in the wide corridor until they emerged from the cloakroom, then waving the footman aside, ho accom—panied them down the steps to the waiting electric brougham. As he stood by the door he held Nora’s hand for a. moment. -

“Till to-morrow, dearest,” he whispered. The Duchess caught the words and smile-d, but for once refrained from speech, then the brougham moved away leaving him standing bare—headed in the street, for that hour the happiest man in London.

When the Duchess reached home she seated herself in a cosy chair before the fire in her charming houdoir, waved Nora. to another, then said cheerfully: “And now, my dear, tell me also all about it.”

Nora smiled, and told just as much as she wanted, and, when she had finished, her Grace nodded her head approvingly. “I am very glad. You are both in love, and people who are going to be married are no worse for that. I have no patience with those who sneer at a marriage based on alleetion. It is, after all, the only true marriage, and any other ground for marriage is a mockery of a very sacred thing. You will be very happy, dear. I know Dick, have known him since he first went to Eton, and if I had a daughter I could wish her no greater happiness than to be the wife of Dick Conyn-g—----ham. You will he married from my house, and we will get i‘szolVille to give you away. It is his duty.” Nora laughed happily. “Isn’t it rather early to talk' of that, yet? I have been engaged; exactly forty minutes, and—n”

“Nonsense, Nora. That old saw about marrying in haste is just rubbish, and the man who made. it ought to have been hung. \Vhen two people are in

love there is no need for them to waste time. A long engagement is usually a very undesirable thing, and serves no really useful purpose.” “Well, a little will depend on Dick, iffl’)

The DucheSs’s laughter checked her. “If it depends on Dick, you will be married the day after to-morrow at the latest. You heard what he said about going to Doctors’ Commons in the morning, and he is quite capable of doing it. You must make up your mind. He is sure to be here before lunch time in the morning, and I daresay he is already hunting up your uncle Melville at his club. . . But I think I must not keep you longer now. You must be tired, and I don’t want to have to tell Dick in the morning that I let you over-tire yourself, and that you can’t see him. He wouldn’t be grateful to me at all.” Obedient to the hint, Nora. rose. “1 am very happy, dear,”‘she said, as she kissed her friend good night, “so happy that I don’t think I shall sleep a wink.” _

The Duchess shook her head, as she said smilingly, “.You must, Nora, and you must dream happy dreams, that is the proper thing for you to do, and you will, I know.”

But there her Grace was wromg. Nora O’Hagan did dream, but her dreams were not entirely happy ones. (Something clouded the brightness which should Have belonged to them; vague, intangible shapes seemed to snatch at the happiness which had come to her, and once she woke with a cry of fear on her lips. The dawn- was just breaking, and the room was full of shadows. But outside the sparrows were chirping, and she caught the merry whistle of a boy on his way to the labour of the day. Then she smiled at the formless fears which had assailed her, and turning fell into a. dreamless slumber.

\Vhen she awoke again it was broad day, and her maid Stringer had entered the r-ooili with the morning tea and her letters. She looked at the latter and found two which especially interested her, because the handwriting of both was strange to her. She chose one of them and opened it, taking out a, single sheet. Then her eyes filled with pleasure as she read : “Sweetheart, I kiss you good morning, Dick.” That was all, but it was the first love—letter she had ever received; and simple as it was it filled her heart with happiness. She read it through thrice, and when iStringer’s back was turned raised it to her lips. _

Then she turned to the second, a, registered packet which, being opened, revealed a, flat jewel case. She opened the catch and found inside a string of rare pearls, of a sheen and lustre which declared them to be priceless. The maid catching sight of them cried admiringly. “Oh, Miss Nora, how beautiful !”

They were beautiful, with 'a surpassing beauty, .h-ut Nora- O’Hagan’s- eyes were blind to the fascination of them. With a, little frown gathering on her face she took up the half-sheet of foreign notepapei' which lay folded in small compass between the pearls, and opening it she readzd “Dear Miss O’Haga.n,——l am greatly disturbed to think I should have offended you by my hasty proposal last night. Please forgive me; and remember that it was my deep love for you that be—trayed me into the mistake. But I live in hope, and I shall not live in vain.”———“M.”

Not a word beyond that, not a single reference to the pearls worth a king’s ransom. The frown on her face deepened and a flush of shame and anger came on the beautiful face. After a moment, she folded the note, put it back among the pearlsJ closed the ease and snapped it, “Stringer,” she said, “find me a. large envelope, one that will hold this case—also a stick of sealing wax and a. pen.” 4 The maid departed and presently returned with the envelope and wax re—quired. Her mistress put the pearls into the envelope, sealed it and then addressed it,

“Prince Murad, The Hotel Cecil.”

“See that is sent off at once, by special messenger,” she said. The maid glanced at the address and a flash of comlm‘ehension came into. her eyes. “Yes, Miss Nora, I will see to the matter at once.”

She left the room taking the packet with her, and the girl, her face softening, turned again to her lover’s greeting. But something of the gladness had gone out of dxer heart. She was conscious of a vague oppression, of an intangible menace that shadowed her waking: hours even as it had shad-owed the hours of dream.

(To be continued.)