The Stolen Honeymoon

Auckland Star, Volume LII, Issue 282, 26 November 1921, Page 22

The Stolen Honeymoon

(An Bttfits Rtaerred.)

Author of "Cowrie! 99," eta.

SYNOPSIS OF INSTALMENTS L AND D. Ewan Vaughton, a famoue airman, h»s been afflicted with blindness as a result of a crash. He Is nursed at his bouse. Gates End, Sussex, by a beautiful girl, Nicoline Miles, who he had known many yearn ago as a child of twelve. He falls madly in love with her, and on bis return from a vteit to a London specialist tells her that the latter has prescribed a three months' yachting crnlse, which may possibly result in the restoration of his sight. He now declares his love and tells Nicotine that he has obtained a special license and wishes to marry hpr in five days' time and take her with him. To this arrangement, though amazed at VmiEhton's confidence in the acceptance of his proposal, Nicoline assents. Vaughton goes to town to make his final arrangements, and Nicoline to prepare a cottage close by, wliicli she owns, for In-coming tenants. She agrees to meet Vaughton in town ami to marry him on the eve of the departure for the cruise. On her third (lay at the cottage, Nicotine's cousin. Elite, who she has never seen before, turns up from New Zealand. She has come to earn her living by painting animals. On the following morning Nicoline proposes to introduce her to a client. CHAPTER 111. The nex.t morning was so peculiarly glorious in the matter of weather that Nicoline was almost resentful of the flooding sunlight as ehe drove Ewan, Y r aughton's second-best car round from Gates End House to her cottage, there to take up E'.lie. "1 do so want to-morrow to be fine, and I feel that we can't have two days running as glorious as to-day," she said' fco her cousin when she met her in the porch. "It will be something to have just escaped being married in ■May, and I shall be happier still rf we don't get rain on our wedding day." "That's all stupid superstition," EIHe declared disapprovingly. "How could a wet weddSng day make anything go wrong with you when yoi/re marrying a man who's got both money and good looks? A husband like that would have to be an awful vicious brute before I couldn't get on with him." "Oh, Ellie! Is that the way you look at love?" "Its the way I look at marriage— which is a different thing. You'd look at it that way, too, if you'd 'knocked around and come up against the hardl side of life ac I have. Of coivrse, I know you' work very hard, but I feel somehow as if you've always had sunshine to work in, whereas I've always had outer darkness and cold." "I can't understand why, considering that you're such a charming girl," Xicoline returned, looking with fresh admiration at the attractive face, alluring Miiilc and fine figure of 'her new found relative. "But in any case, however 'hard put to it I might be, I should never dream of marrying a man unless I loved him." "iMy goodness! Do you love Ewan Vaughton like that?" "Love him like that? WJiy, I—I—" Her voice broke in a little choking laugh- She had stopped herself in time from saying something that she thought would sound silly in Elite's ears—namely that the very fact of Bwan Vaughton's being in London now made it eeem to her as if a drop of very precioue and priceless scent were up there in the heart of the city, sweetening and perfuming the whole of it. "Hadn't we better start?" she said now. "The earlier we go the better; Tjesides, I don't want «o leave Mrs. Jedmore alone in the cottage too long." Airs. Jedmore was the woman from the village who had come in to help her wibh her cleaning. "All right. But this isn't the beautiful lilac car 'been talking to mc about. Why didn't you 'bring it?" "Oh, that one is Bran's own particular car. He gave a small fortune for it last month, and I shonldnt like anything to happen to it while he's away." "What would be likely to (happen to it? I'm sure you're a good driver — jand for that matter, as I told you, I 1 should have been glad to do the driving: myself. It'll be tout own car to-mor-irow too, when Ewan Veughton has endowed you , with a<ll his worldly goods, and if you can't do What you like with, it—" "I am doing what 1 like •with it in saving it till Ewan can come to mc," came the smiling but very firm rejoinder. "This one is quite good entwgh for our 'business drive this morning, Ellie." "Oh, very well! Who's going to driver' "You can drive, if you like," Nicoline made the concession to soothe the otbeT'e visible irritation at not having the lilac car. "11l sit 'by you and show yov the way." Ellie took her place at the Vbeel. but something seemed suddenly to distract her thoughts from the business of the moment. "Who's tfce man?" she asked sharply, her eyes following the figure of a young fellow nfao was slouching round a bend in the road about thirty yards ahead of vhCTO. "That man?" Kacoline's eyes in turn followed hers. "Oh, he'e nofaxly in partTCtiJajr. He's only an assistant at the village motor engineer's and not very interesting at that. Why?" "He reminded mc of somebody," Ellie explained. "Didn't you notice that he was rather like the man in a photograph T showed you , yesterday—a man whose name I told you wae Redvers Hutton? HeM got the same lint-white hair and light-lashed eyes with a steely glint that yon could see even in the photograph." . ','^ c ' s - ne k* B . now that you mentiond it. Nicoline agreed. But who is this Kedvers Hutton? You seem very much interested in him. , "f^'wlf-' 8 an aboTnina -ble nuisance to mc hAhe answered impatiently and * s no a M TOt . ter of he's a railway engineer who was rather fond of mc five tTtak? 0 ,; th 7 left **" £lland X VLifhtt* TWi , ? him to hoH on to a few pounl T 8 o out there and marram, 1 X wants mc to do; out as I iVs "* She gave another half-angry, half careless little laugh as she started the car. She drove well—there was no denying just a trifle reckless, so that Nicoline was not sorry that she had not brought the splendid new lilac car. it there wae any one quality that Ellie possessed over all others, that quality was dash. She looked the very incaf

By MARIE CONNOR LEIGHTON

They had covered six and a-half of tiheir eight miles when, rounding a bend in the road without Bounding her horn, BIKe found .herself confronted by three cyclists. She was practically on the top of them, and if she -were to give them any dhance there was nothing for it but for her to drive into the hedge. ■ She did co, and in the next moment found ■herself being helped to her feet on the other sido of the hedge by one of the cylists, while through a gap she saw another cylist pulling out "Nicoline from somewhere dangerously near the overturned oar. "O*>d Ood! She isn't dead, is she?' . She stumbled to her cousin's side and stooped over her. "No. sihe-s not dead." The man who had lifted Vicoline assured her. "She's only unconscious. I'm a doctor, and I can give you my word that she isn't even really badly hurt. There are no bonce broken. She's really had a miraculous escape, considering that she was partly under the car. I'll take her into that little cottage thirty yards further alone the road, and then you can send for the local doctor. I think a few days' rest will put her all right again." "Thank yon so mxio'h," Ellie sa-id. *"lf you'll tajke her to the cottage I will look after her." Everything happened then most conveniently. There was an unused bed in a tiny upstairs room in the cottasfr , , owing to a son being away, and on this ■bed NicoHne was laid. When she recovered consciousness half an hour later, it was to see Ellie and tihe kindly woman of the cottage leaning over her. "That's all right, ,, said Ellie to the cottage woman. "She is recovering. 1 think you might go and get that egg and milk ready now." "•What has happened? -, Ntieoline asked, looking about her blankly. Ellie explained. fshe took all the blame on herself for not having sounded her horn when ehe went round the corner. The car, she eaid, was a good deal of a wreck, but they had to be thankful that they were both alive. The cylists had gone on their way now after laving given all the help they could. It •was most fortunate that one of them ■had been a doctor, and so had Ibeen able to attend to Nicoline and to give an assurance that she wae not badly injured, and that all that she needed was I two or three days' absolute quiet and Teet. Nicoline drew a hand dazedly across iher forehead. She was trying to draw out one or two clear ideas from the confusion in her brain. "Hew am I to get to London tonight?" she asked. "To-night?" Ellie echoed with a little start of surprise. "Yes," Nicoline nodded. "I didn't tell you sooner, because you were late down to breakfast, 'but I "had a letter from Bran toy the first post asking mc to come up this evening instead of tomorrow morning. (He save that Mr. Russell, the friend who takes him about and I<*>ks after him, has ibeen taken suddenly ill with appendicitis. Of course that l|avee Ewan alone with stfangere, and he hates strangers. So he asks mc to leave the cottage in the hands of "Mrs. Jcdmore and come up this evening by the quarter past five train. He's taken a room for mc at an hotel, and he's coming to meet mc at the station, an 3 means to take mc to some fashionable restaurant or other. Of course, ■he'll have arranged for the dinner. Whatever is to be done?" * "Well, you can't go; 'that's one thin? certain," Ellie declared decisively. "That doctor cyclist said you must keep quite quiet for at least three days. The real question is what are you going to do about the wedding to-morrow?" "Oh, I shall go up for that," Nicoline returned confidently. "I am boi/nd to go up for that, just for that very reason I must not go up to-night. 1 must stop here and recover as much as ever I can until to-morrow morning. On the other hand, it will never do for Ewan to know that I met with this accident and have had too much of a shock to be able to move. You see, his nerves are still in a very 'bad state, and if he knew that this had happened it would set him back tejribly." "But how are you to help his knowing?" asked Ellie 'brutally. "You'll have to send him a telegram or a telephone message or something saying that you can't come up this evening, and of course you'll have to give some reason, and you can't tell him lies. Lies are never much good, either. They're generally clumsy, and they make the person you tell them to worry more than if he knew the truth." "I'm afraid you're right there," unwiHingly admitted the girl who lay helpless on the bed. "But in any case I daren't send Ewan a telegram. It wouldn't be quite so bad if he could be told of this accident by word of mouth. What if you were to go up to town to-night and tell him? You're able to do the journey, aren't you? You're not too much shaken?" "Oh, I could do it all right," Ellie assured her. "I had so many shocks at that cow camp in Nevada that a little accident of this kind doesn't upset mc as much as it would most people. I'll go up and meet Mr. Vaughton and tell him all about it if you like. But, if he's in such a delicate state, i-s there any need to upset him at all? If you're [ abie to go up for the wedding to- : morrow, as you say you will be, and hi? I nerves are in such a bad state, why need you upset him by telling him about this affair at all until he's got you safely and can know for himself at first hand that no real harm has come to you: If I go up and tell him he'll only be walking his room all night, worrying, and he'e sure not to believe mc when I say you're not very bad." "Yes, that's true,"Nicoline admitted, a little distractedly. "I shouldnt be 'sUprdsed even if he came pelting down here and tired himself out. Bnt what else can be done? You say yourself that he's bound to know—because he has to be told something, and lies would be useless as well as mean an-d cruel." "There's only one way," Ellie suggested alowlly. "And that way, I'm ; afraid, is hopelessly impossible; but it's J this—that I should go up to town tonight m your name, and acting as you and tell him about the accident but let him believe that it is I, Ellie, the new cousin from oversea*, who am left lying

at this cottage recovering from shock. Do you think I could deceive him if I played my part well? You see, nobody that knows you will be with him, now that this Mr. Russell is ill. There would be only himself to deceive. And it | would be such a kindness." "Yes, at would be a great kindness," Nicoline said very low. "It would be the best thing that could be done if it were possible to do it. ... The more I think of it the more I feel that he must not know that I am any the worse for the accident. He must not have a sleepless night to-night. It might undo all the good done him by weeks of careful nursing, . . . Yes, I think you might try your plan. You are like mc in the ways that would count most with him —in figure and voice and in your way of moving. And it isn't as if we had been lovers long—he and I—and had got into little ways ot speaking and touching each other which he would miss in you. We were only nurse and patient until the evening before he went up to town —four days ago .... And in dining at a restaurant and then talking for a little in the lounge of an hotel there wouldn't be time or opportunity for many intimacies. Yes, I think you might try it. You're clever enough to carry anything off. And it would be only for this one evening. If I rest here quite quietly until tomorrow morning, I'm cure I shall be well enough to go up for the marriage." "Yes, I feel myself that you will be, in spite of tiie doctor saying that you would need two or three days to get over the shock," Ellie agreed. "But you would not be well enough for the wedding to-morrow if you went up tonight." 1 "J know that." Xicoline drew a sharp (breath as of pain. "I"m feeling terribly faint and sick ait this moment. IVβ ■hardly strength to talk. . . . Only I muet keep nip co that we may arrange things .. . for Bran's sake. After the dinner at the resitaurant you will drii-e him back in a taxi to his hotel. He'll want to see you to yours, but you mustn't let him, because he can't go back to his own alone, now that he hasn't got Mr. Russell, to look after him. You'll tell h'hn that you're going on in the taxi to your hotel, but you'll drive to Victoria instead and c-cune back hereby tihe midnight train. Tlhe motor engineer in ■Gates End village has a car for hiro that will meet you at the station at any time if you order it on your way through this afternoon. Then you can come on 'here and wake mc up and tell mc how everything has gone off; and T shall be happy in knowing that Ewan will be sleeping all right to-night, which he wouldn't do if he knew I'd been hurt." "Yes. I s«e that will be host," returned the new cousin slowly and demurely. "I don't care much for.the responsibility of deceiving Mr. Vaughfcon by pretending to ibe you—lbut at tihe same time I see that as we're placed at the present moment, it's the thing to be done. Really, one would almost think that Mr. Russell had been made to get ill in order to give us the chance of taking this way out of the difficulty It will be something very new for mc to dine at a fashionable restaurant. Do you know, I've never befcn inside euch a place in my life?" "Haven't you?" Nicoline spoke more fa-intly. Her face was very white as it rested against the white pillow. "You poor girl! I hope you*U enjoy it tonight—though. 1 expect you'll be .too nervous." "What shall I do about clothes? Can I go as I am, as Mr. Vaughton won't see mc 7" Xicoline opened her closing eyes and looked at the shabby fawn coat and skirt, made more shabby now by dust and grime from the road and the field. "No," she declared firmly. "You can't go but other people will. You must go bade to the cottage and get my keye and open a cabin trunk that you'll find in tbo •big cupboard on the landing at the top of the stairs. I always keep some of my tilings locked up in that cupboard. 1 never let tenante have the use of it. You'll find my keys -under my pillow. Tile cabin trunk key has got a bit of string tied to the handle. In the trunk you'll find a light grey ailk frock that will do for you beaiitifully for this evening. It's the only good frock I've I>een able ever to afford. It's sure to fit you well, and you can wear ray tweed motor coat to cover it up for travelling." ' "Is it the dress you are going to be married in?" Ellie asked. "Because if so I ehall have to be very careful not to miss the train back to-ntght." "No, I'm going to be married in a white linen, so you will not need to trouble about that. But I don't think there need be any difficulty about your catching your train back to-night. It will help mc so much to-morrow morning, too, if T have you here.", x "Yes, I see that. Of course I shall catch the train unleaa very unforeseen circumstances prevent mc." A curiously restless look 'had come suddenly into her eyes. She was looking straight in front of her into space when Nicoline went on:— "You'll find a good ipair of gloves in the tray of the cabin trunk, and one or two very good handkerchiefs. You'd 'bettcT take what you want from there because you wont.have either time or opportunity to go to your own flat for anything. I expect EwfcMi Will only give you just time enough at your hotel to change your dTees for the restaurant, and then "you'll be with him _ every moment until you start for Victoria again. I am trusting to you to look after Mm well. He must be utterly •helpless in London now without Mr. Russell. It'e a pity you can't go by an earlier train than the quarter past fire; but of course you can't, because that's the one 'he's going to meet. Anyhow, you'd tetter see about getting back to the cottage now. How are you going to get back?" "I think I feel steady enough to ibicj-cle. if I can hire or borrow a machine." "That's splendid of you. I wish I felt as right as that. But I shall be all riprht tomorrow niornting." "Do you think you want the local doctor fetched V E-llie asked, looking at the alarmingly pallid face against the pillow.' "No." Niooline lifted her head enough to shake it. "That cyclist doctor eaid there was nothing wrong with mc beyond the shock, and I'm quite willing to take his word for it. If we get another man in he may say I'm to 6top here for a fortnight; and I'm going up to Ewan to-morrow morning if I'm alive enoujjh to get out of thie bed. ... Get off to the cottage as fast as you can and make everything right for your run up to town. Don't forget to ta.ke my motor coat, and if you -want money you'll find a pound note 'in one of t*e small side pockets of It." "All right. I think I'll go now without coming back and disturbing you any more. Don't worry about anything. 11l make all arrangements albout getting tie wreck of the car fetched home. I don't think it's so very badly smeMied up, after all; but you can ccc about that. .later. What you hare to do now is to

get all the sleep you can, so as to be fit for to-morrow morning. . . . She leaned over the bed and Iciseed her cousin and then swung out of tho room.