THE GIRL FROM DOWN UNDER

Auckland Star, Volume LVI, Issue 192, 15 August 1925, Page 32

THE GIRL FROM DOWN UNDER

■ i , i BT E. O. BUIiEY. Author of "The Mad Tremayne*" "Half Her Kingdom," eto..

CHAPTER XXV. "Ah done thought you'd want to see that, Miss Joan," Sousah boasted. "That mua' be youah mammy, for shuah." Joan continued to devour the miniature with her eyes. The hair was like her own had been, before she had allowed it to be cut short; and it was dressed in some old-fashioned way which was at once simple and charming. A' white dress, high at the neck, was fastened there with a knot of cherrycoloured ribbon. Joan had worn a frock like that herself once, when she was just a bush girl. "Yes," she said slowly. "You had better put that back in the place from which you took it, Sousah; but I am glad you showed it to mc. As you say, it must be a picture of my mother." "You aint mad, are you, Miss Joan?" the maid asked anxiously.

"Not at all; hut put it hack where it belongs, and at once, if you please. If Mrs. Wardlaw had wished mc to see it, she would have shown it to mc herself."

The maid hurried away, while Joan stood by tho window, trying to -recall one sentence o{ a conversation she had heard. What had the woman Mabel said about knowing somebody by the photograph? Joan did not know why the fragment of conversation should recur at that moment, or why she should now connect it with herself. She had never done bo before.

Unconsciously she had revised all her theories about the connection between Peter Glazebrook and Lord Ardwell. She no longer believed that they were confederates, with a joint interest in taking advantage of Wardlaw's trust and good nature. Ardwell had convinced her of that by the way in which he had spoken of Peter, and by his convincing indifference about the result of the coming, race for the Derby.

Joan had almost slipped Into the belief that Ardwell was sincere in the love he expressed for her. Perhaps, if Wardlaw had not warned her, she might have believed it implicitly. She was convinced, at least, that Lord Ardwell really wished to marry her; wished it so greatly that he was devoting all his energies to bringing about an engagement.

Now, and for the first time; she connected herself with the conversation outside the boathouse, to which she had refused to listen. They were keeping something, back from her; something about, her mother, Patricia knew, and Elton Wardlaw; and-now it came to her that Lord Ardwell knaw. Yes, and the woman Mabel as well

Joan had the uneasy conviction that this woman was a good deal in the neighbourhood of Arden Towers. She had not seen her since the evening when she had observed her walking with the boy Tony. But she had seen fresh footprints on the soft soil on the margin of the water; the footprint of somebody l e ßfTf * high^e . eled Bhoe8 ' absurdly unfitted for walking there. And the discovery- caused' Joan instinctively to avoid the place. thJ? Wa r\i th \*» " d th * knowledge ter GU / ebro °k visited the place Cto *•£ I* was astonishing »!«*'* c k J new ' for Stance, that he evert ~*, " troll to the »*teV nearly d 2 T aiDg ' at the Bam * time No aU powanfti « ad b6G ? • Careful to «"oid ail possibility of surprising them there speaKmg to this woman, and of trvin» hved. But it took her, down to the before the time when she knew Peter Glazebrook would be free to teke Ms evening stroll. rpS Td ! 7 de »P ißin « herself, but resolute to see whether he was holding daily communication with this woman Joan found a place near the edge of X LSiEA ,?f Was . well conc ealed, and settled herself to wait. She had not been there Aye minutes when Peter Glazcbrook append, no ft?Jr* fl i^ m , her - had with him the pretty little spaniel which was often seen at his heels, and he now called the dog by name.

After it, Dan," he cried; and threw what appeared to be a pebble into tho water. The dog dashed forward at the first motion of his arm, swam quickly out to the circle of widening ripplesand then dived. Joan saw him come up again, with something In his mouth She watched him deposit the pebble at Peter's feet, and heard the master praising his dog. Again the pebble was thrown, but farther from the shore this time. Once more Dan dived for it, and brought it back, to-lay it at Peter's feet. "Now, Dan, the full journey this time," Joan heard Peter say; and saw him poise himself for a big throw. Against her will she was interested and amused;, and as the stone flew out of his hand, found herself admiring the strength and skill of the cast. The white 1 pebble rose In a huge parabola, and fell almost in the centre of the pool, with Dan already hastening on his way to retrieve it. Joan watched the dog reach the widening ripple, and disappear under the surface. It seemed to the girl a long time before he reappeared, and when he did so he was struggling and plunging convulsively. It was easy to see what had befallen him, and. Joan started to her feet at the sight. - Long strands of some water-weed had wrapped themselves about the little fel low as he came up, and he was struggling madly to fr«je himself from them. The result seemed to be a worse entanglement;, and Dan presently recognosed this; fo.r.he'- let"the white pebble drop from his mouth, and raised hi* voice in a dolorous call for assistance.

His dog's cry for help galvanised Peter into action. Joan saw him; take the water with a mighty splash, without waiting to cast off a single garment. He put forth all his strength to reach the dog; but, Joan's practised eye~ told her at once that fie was no accomplished swimmer. He was making good headbut with an immense amount of splashing, and a prodigious output of force.

Joan watched him with measuring eyes, noting how his speed slackened perceptibly, even before he reached the dog. His movements in the water as he sought to free Dan from the entangling weeds, were clumsy and. ineffective; and twice he went under the surface, In trying to use both his hands **•"!*•. for tearing at the weed. «J* v ,reed the do &. whic h at once 1ZT«« .° rewaTds » witn evei T appearance of frantic haste. Evidently Dan

was thoroughly scared by the danger from which he had just been delivered, and had no thought to spare for his rescuer.

Peter began to swim back, hampered by hia heavy and aodden garments. No, he was no swimmer; he waa making very little progress. Joan kicked .off her shoes; and 'with quick hands 'divested herself- of .the sports suit she wore. She had often tried swimming with all her clothes on, and knew well the handicap it meant.

Dan had reached the shore, and now turned to look at his master. With a howl of dismay, he ran along the shore for a second or two, and then dashed into the water again.

"Dogs know," Joan heard herself saying, as she parted with another encumbering garment; then she ran headlong through tho undergrowth and into the water. She could not see Peter's head, as she struck out; but presently saw it emerge.

"Peter," she cried, "turn on your back, and don't struggle. Try to float. I'll be there in half a minute."

When she reached him he had obeyed her order, and was keeping afloat by tired movements of his arms and legs, which spoke of the extremity of his exhaustion. The dog was swimming around him in useless circles, moaning With distress.

"Don't clutch mc, whatever you do," Joan begged. Years ago, when she was no more than a child, her father had made her rehearse this business over and over again; and she knew just what she had to do. Catching Peter under each armpit 6he turned upon her back aa well, and began to kick out shoreward, using just enough effort to keep them both afloat.

She heard Peter gasp something which sounded to her liko "All in," but he yielded intelligently to her control, paddling with his hands, and neither struggling nor showing any sign of nervousness. His weight, in the sodden clothes he wore, soon became an intolerable burden. Joan set her teeth, and without hurrying her movements concentrated all her will power upon reaching the shore.

He had ceased to make any movement now; and she knew that he must have swallowed a good deal of water. Probably he was half asphyxiated. It seemed ages before she felt her feet touch the bottom.

Then, half carrying and helf dragging him, she drew Peter and herself out of the water. By some means she drew him to a fallen tree, over which she laid him face downwards. Then she worked his arms, as her father had taught her, though every movement of her own seemed to cost her a lifetime of effort.

At last Joan's powers failed her, and she slipped down helplessly upon the ground, utterly spent; and relapsed into unconsciousness. CHAPTER XXVi: ~,.!.. Joan came back from some far distant land to the knowledge that her arms were hurting her. . Half consciously she came to knowledge of the reason. Somebody was chafing the uncovered flesh with strong hands; and all the time was muttering distractedly:—

"Joan, my darling. Joan! My darling, my darling 1"

Then Joan remembered. Her first thought was one of intense pleasure. She had been at the depth of despair when she lost consciousness, fearing that her attempts to revive Peter were doomed to failure. But he was well, and.able to attend to her. She moved a little; and at that sign of reviving consciousness Peter's muttering ceased. But he continued his vigorous and painful chafing; and Joan saw fit to open her eyes. "Are you better?" he asked anxiously. Joan, nodded, looking at him the while with eyes which took in his dripping clothes, and the plaster of fair hair over his forehead; his haggard blue eyes, and the lines which anxiety had set grimly about his mouth. Then she turned to'herself, and the red flood of embarrassment tinged her face, as she realised her disarray.

"I'm all right," she gasped. "Please get mc my things. You'll find them in the thicket there."

He went off at the word, with the dog Dan gambolling about hia slow moving feet. Joan rose unsteadily to her feet, feeling strangely weak. But her momentary self-consciousness had passed. She had walked in the valley of the shadow of death with Peter Glazebrook. and she had surprised his secret, as the shadow had passed away from her. Also she had discovered her own. This was the man to whom, without knowing it, she has given her love. Worthy or unworthy, it was his. In the exaltation of the movement she was saying to heTself that if Peter were indeed found unworthy it would make no difference She must stand by his side, and help him to make restitution and atonement.

Ho came back, holding her discarded garments in gingerly fashion, and with his eyes averted from her. That struck Joan as an exaggeration of delicacy, and she almost laughed as she scrambled into the garments, feeling all the more chilled and uncomfortable for putting dry things over wet ones.

"I'm ready now,", she said unsteadily. "You may look, Peter."

"What does one 'say," he asked, in a low, shaking voice, "when one tries to give thanks for such a thing as you've done ?"

"One says nothing about It,*' Joan answered, swaying a little on her feeet. "Suppose . . . I'd like to get back and change my wet things. But I feel so tired."

He looked at her in wild alarm, and she smiled weakly.

"I thought you might offer mc your arm," Joan said.

She took possession of his arm, and leaned on it with a sense of relief. The dog leaped and frolicked about them.

"It's all your fault, Dan, you scamp," Joan said. "You knew you'd no right to risk your life for a dog, Peter; even if he's such a lovely dog as Dan."

"I didn't think I was risking my life," Peter explained. I—l've often swum further than that; though I'm no great swimmer. My clothes seemed to drag mc down, and paralyse mc."

"I know," Joan said. "If I tried . . . You promise mc you will not tell anybody about this."

"As soon as I get home," Peter repued stoutly, "Madge shall know all about it." "Oh, yes, Madge," Joan agreed. "I don't mind her. Do you think she will be friends again, now."

"How can you ask such a question?" Peter demanded.

"And you will not let drive you away from the Towers any more?" Joan persisted. "Both you and Madge have made mc so unhappy, by shunning the place."

"You'llj not have to wait very long, before Madge comes running," Peter predicted.

"Then that's all right," Joan said comfortably. "You needn't come any farther; I'm quite myself again. And you ought i

to hurry home, as I mean to do, and change your wet things."

She shivered a little as ahe turned and faced him. If Peter had taken her in hia arms at that moment, Joan would have clung to him and returned the kisses she half expected. The barriers were down between them; and to the girl it seemed that would only be a natural thins to do."

But he only held out a shaking hand, and his eyes refused to meet hers.

"You are sure you will be all right?" he asked. "Then I'll go; for you will not wish to be seen from the house in my company."

And he had gone, leaving Joan looking after him, divided between disappointment and something which was almost amusement.

He did not know, then, that ahe had heard his frantic mutterings as he strove to bring her back to consciousness. He did not know that he was hers, and had confessed it, in her hearing.

All the better. But he was hera, all the same; for had she not dragged him from the clutch of death, and nearly lost her own life in doing it? Sooner or later there must be a reckoning between them; but there was time enough. Joan wanted to watch, and to satisfy herself that Peter's way of life required the amendment she supposed. If so, she meant to insist upon having it out with him, when the right time came.

If her worst fears proved to be true, Joan knew it could make no difference to her. She felt sure she could make him sorry, and bring him to such a state of mind that he would put such conduct behind him for ever. But she hoped;— oh, how ardently she hoped and prayed it—that she was about to discover that she had been entirely mistaken.

As Peter had foretold, Madge Glazebrook arrived before Joan had finished changing; and she came running, as Peter said she would. She entered Joan's room with hands outstretched and parted lips, and cried:

"Can you forgive mc, Joan? Can you ever forgive mc ?"

Sousah slipped noiselessly out of the room, and Joan took her friend in hey arms and kissed her fondly.

"There is nothing to forgive, Madge," she said, over and over again. *T behaved like a little beast, and you did rightly to resent it. But lam so happy to think we are friends again." "Friends!" Madge repeated. "I'd cut off my right hand to save you the least little pain. You are the bravest girl I ever knew, Joan; and the girl who drew mc most. Even when I thought I hated you, my heart was acting at being estranged."

"But that's all over," Joan laid. "And we are pals again." "And I don't wonder that Lord Ardwell is crazy about you." Madge went on, in her downright fashion. "You ought to be a titled woman, Joan; and you'll be just as wonderful and appropriate as you always are. Only he's not good enough for you; but no man ever could be."

"Of course not," Joan laughed. "But what on earth are you talking about?" "Do you think I don't know?" Madge asked, drawing back a little. "Don't think I cannot congratulate you; for I do, from the depths of my heart. But when you are Lady Ardwell, you'll always be just Joan Errington to mc, all the same.".

"I shalj never be Lady Ardwell, if that is what is worrying you, Madge," Joan declared, "I'd like to know what makes yoii so positive about it" Madge continued to look at her doubtfully, as though unable to believe •her word. .

"Tell me>" Joan commanded. "Why were you so sure about it?"

"But everybody knows," Madge replied. 'The engagement is not made, because old Lord Ardwell has not been dead long enough. But you are to be presented at Court; and the wedding is to take place here. Why: Patricia Wardlaw . . .

She checked herself, but Joan took her by the hands. "Do go on, Madge," she said. 'Tell mc what Pat has been saying. There's not a word of truth i& it; but tell mc just the same." "But . . but . . Lord Ardwell arranged for your presentation at Court." "Did he? It is very kind of him, if he did. I mean to make the most of his kindness, Madge. Why shouldn't IT" "And . . you are not going .... to marry him, after all?" Joan shook her head. "The rumour is grossly exaggerated," she said. "Now I've answered your questions, Madge; and I want you to answer one of mine, will you?"

"Of course," Madge agreed promptly, "I'd tell you anything in the world" "When I foisted myself upon your brother, for a day's motoring, he had an errand at Swanage. I saw tho woman he went to see, when ahe opened the door. I'd Been her before; and I've seen her since, in the vicinity of Arden Towers. Can you tell mo, Madge, what your brother has to do with that woman?"

Madge, aghast and colourless, was moistening her dry lips with the tip of her tongue. "You know," Joan said, with absolute conviction. "I can see that you know. Who is she, and what is your brother's business with her?" Madge dumbly shook her head. (To be continued Saturday Next.)