The Fortune Hunter

Auckland Star, Volume LII, Issue 281, 25 November 1921, Page 8

The Fortune Hunter

By RUBY AYRES Author of "The Dancing Master," "Tha Story of Ninette," etc

CHAPTER. XXIV. 1 RECONCILIATION. , -Anno came back to the drawing-room almost as soon as the Fortune Hunter had left it: -.she looked quickly round. "John —where is he?" " He's gone out," Tommy answered, without looking up from hw -book. ( "Gone out! '" she echoed the words j with swift broathleesneea. " Why— ; where has he gone?" "My dear girl! how. do I know! 1 - saw him take his hat and coat and go - out, that's all I know; he went directly , you did.' , Anne stood for a moment, her hand* clasped together. "He never told mc he was going out " slip epoke the words involuu- ; tarily. then stood, as Tommy smiled unpleasantly. "You don't suppose ho tell* you everything he's going to do, do yon?' he said nastily. Anne walked out of the room without. answering, wae ashamed, because lately her love for Tommy seemed to have diminished. The front door was half open, and she went out on to the step. It was a chilly night, with tha mellow breath of autumn everywhere; it seemed unusually dark, too, and the -sky wan full of heavy clouds. Where had John gone? Her beart was beating fast with apprehension. Why had he not told her ile was going out! She ran upstairs and took n long white wrap from the wardrobe: her hands shook as she fastened it, and it was in vain that she tried to tell herself that her fears were groundless. What could have happened to him' Where could he have gone, except for a stroll down the village? He would l>e back directly, and then she would be able to laugh at herself. But her nerves felt torn and on edge, and her nervous superstitition of the afler'noon came back to her afresh. "If a crow caw one, two three; Grief will quickly come to thee!" The foolish rhyme bad been in an old book belonging to her nursery days, together with a number of other ancient superstitions. and she had never thought of them until this afternoon, when it seemed suddenly that a calamitous thing had befallen her. She ran downstairs again and past the •study <loor. She knew t/hat Oeoffry Fester was still there talking to ber uncle, and she hurried by and out into the garden. The soft lap-lap of the river broke the silence like un insiJioue voice, and Anne quickened ber pace to escape from it. The garden gate stood open, and she looked up and down the road, straining her eyes through the darkness in a vain attempt to sec. Supposing he never came neck any more! A suffocating feeling rose in b';r J throat and she wrung ber bands together. Supposing he had walked out of her life as suddenly and unexpectedly as lie had returned to it. Panic closed about her heart. She began to remember I the many liard things she bad said to I him, and it seemed now that all along i she had been too critical, too impatient. He had suffered in the past more cruelly than she, far more, because he had paid a penalty which had been undeserved. He was not guilty! iJe I bad told her so with his own lips . . . I and yet . . . could she believe it I was the truth, when she knew that he had so often lied to ber since? She was turning back into the garden when she heard a footstep a lonj? way up the road. Her heart seemed to leap into ber throat as she stood, straining her ears to listen. Was it he? The steps came nearer and nearer, and when it was but a little distance off she called his name. "John!" The footsteps quickened, and with sudden passionate relief she broke into a run to meet him. "Oh, John!' , .She was in his arms, clinging to him as if she could never let him go, everything; forgotten but the relief that he was with her again. A sudden break in the clouds overhead let through a glimmer of pale moonlight and showed the Fortune Hunter the. face that lay against liis shoulder. There were tears on her dark I lashes, and her lips were quivering. His ! arms tightened more closely about her. • Had something happened that she had come to meet him like this? He was afraid to .aek, and after a moment she broke out: "I was afraid—l thought you had gone—l thought—" Then she turned her face away and broke into bitter sobbing. The Fortune Hunter held her closely, and his face was grey with pain in the moonlight. If this was not their goodbye it would soon have to come, he knew; and he looked past lier bowed head to where the road wound away in the moonlight like a white ribbon—the road by which he would presently go out of her life for ever. When presently she raised ber bead to wipe the tears away he bent and kissed her without speaking, a long, solemn kiss, looking into ber eyes as if he were trying to remember their sweetness for all time. "I love you—l love you!" lie said, and she answered tremulously, as she had answered him once before: "And I love you—with all my beart and soul!" He bent his head to hers, so that she could not see his face as be answered hoarsely: "My dear—my dear—if only I were worth loving!" She hardly caught the words, and would not have understood their passionate regret if she had; for the moment she was quite happy; she had forgotten everything that had j caused her sorrow; be loved bcr, and the knowledge of his love was allsufficient. "To-morrow —" she said presently, her cheek against his—"to-morrow, you j and I " She broke off, feeling his arms relax a little. "Why, what is it?" she asked apprehensively. J He shook bis head. , I "Nothing—what were you going to , say?" ! But in his heart was all the sorrow (of the world. To-morrow! Who knew . that there would be a to-morrow for • him—with her, at all events? [ Passionate words rose to his lips, but 'he dare not utter them. He just held ' her and kissed her—her hair and her •' eyes and the hands that clung to him iso tremblingly.

The sound of voices in the garden , beyond roused them—Mr. Harding'*! | voice and Geoffry Foster's —and Anne j, gave a little stiiieel cry. "Oil, I don't want them to sec , mc •" The Fortune Hunter put his arm : round her and drew her a little further down the road, where thicker trees made a heavy shadow, and they beard Foster say good-night and walk away in tins opposite direction. | Anne spoke then. ''John! To-morrow —will it be —like all tha others—l mean —if only we could always be happy— ;is we nre now." lie answered her agitatedly. "It's always been my fault—never yours! Hut if things have gone wrong, Anne, it's not because 1 don't love you —always remember that. Whatever | happens—whatever happens—l love you! I love you!" She held back from him, trying to see his eyes. •'Why do you talk like that? You sound—you sound us if you were going, away —John! 7, j "I shall never go away—unlo/ss, unlese! you send mc." Slip gave a little sigh of relief. ''Then it will be never," she said. They were silent for a time, then she laughed softly. ".John, do you think everyone who loves .someone else quarrels and makes it up agniii. like we doV" "I don't know." She put her face up to his and kissed ' him softly. | "I hate quarrelling with you—and yet • —we don't really quarrel, do wet There ; was jt puzzled note in her voice. "Tt seems as if -as if tiling just go wrong, -without any reason. , ' I Without any reason! Her fond I wordn seemed to mock him. | She went on softly: "Before you came I home I used to think how nice 1 would I always be to you—T used to think of all the things I would do for you— to make —you happy." "Anne r " He tried to stop her: it was almost more than he could bear. "But T'm afraid T haven't been very nice." she went on, sighing. "Sometimes I've said cruel things to you John "

"They werp only what I deserved.' , "I ought to have trusted you—l ought to have wnitod for y,»n to explain—l wish now. oh. I wish 1 had!" The Fortune Hunter oould not answer, itnd she said again: "Sometimps you've looked s 0 unhappy—it's almost broken my heart " "Oli, my darling "' She was heaping coals of fire on his head. His very soul waft full of shame, knowing his own unworthines*. He silenced her lips with kisaee. Presently ho took her buck to the house. There ■was a light in the drawing-room, and through the open window they could see Mr. Harding sitting in his favourito chair reading. Everything looked just the same as usual, and yet the Fortune Hunter know that nothing was the same. that, lie walked now in very truth on the edge (if ruination. A day—an hour!— what did it matter? It was there, irrevocably wailing for him. Just before they went in, he drew Anne again into his arms. "You've been happy to-night—have you been happy?" he asked desperately. He longed to hear her say go juet once! It woulrl be one sweot memory to lake with him into a nunless future. She raised herself on tiptoe and pfit her arms round his nei'k. "I could always be happy with you—if you would let me,"' she eaid. Mo Kent her into the house alone, and presentiy followed. Tonimy was halfway up the stairs, and ho turned and grinned irritatingly at the Fortune Hunter. "Anne'e been looking for you," he said. "I believe she thought you'd bunker , , off for good!" Hia grin widened. ".She'll tie you to her apron strings fast enough when you are married." He went up another few stops, and added meaningly, "if you ever are!" The Fortune Hunter's face flamed: he went up the stairs two at a time and caught the hoy by the shoulder. "fjook here, you Tittle devil!" he said savagely. "If you've got anything to say lome, say it and have done! I'm sick of the way you crawl about the house, grinning and sneering. I'll wring your neck if yon don't stop it." Tommy wriggled free of hini, his face was livid, and his eyes cowardly; he limped off at top speed. "You shall pay for this/ he said under his breath as he rushed for safety to his own room..and locked the door. "I'll make you sorry you ever spoke to mc like that." The Fortune Hunter stood looking after him, breathing Imrd. The little outburst of temper had done him good, and ho knew now that his feeling towards Tommy had been emouldering into trouble for some- time. Ho lit a cigarette and stood at the open door smoking. He thought of those moments in Fernie's cottage, and wondered what tlieir result would be. That the old man j hated him he knew well enough, and he ; was positive that the fact of their relationship would in no wav lessen his hatred. He thought of his mother, and out of the past little incidents of their life together before she died came creeping buck to him. , Ho remembered how seldom she had spoken of his father, save to say how hard and cruel he was; he knew that she hud adopted a different name after she left him. so as to be entirely free of a man whom she had loathed. So his own name was really Fernie! It seemed odd that it should bp. that after all the many he had assumed during the past 15 years. lie would never adopt it, whatever happened: he was not proud of the relationship. Then he wondered what Mr. Hardinjr would think when he knew, what Anne would think —she had always hated Fei-nie. Mr. Harding came into the hall behind him. "Is that you. John? Has Anne gone to bed?" "Yes. Is it late? , ' "It's' nearly eleven. I'm tired—lock up. will you?" "Yes, sir." The Fortune Hunter threw his cigarette into the garden and shut the front door. As he was fastening the bolts he glanced back at Mr. Harding. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, and for a moment before he turned away the Fortune Hunter caught a little glint of triumph in his eyes that sent his heart-beats racing.

"He knows, too!" was the quick thought that leapt to his mind, and then —"To-morrow!—where shall I be at this time to-morrok ?'' (To be continued daily.)