LOVE'S BOND MAID.

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 182, 3 August 1926, Page 18

LOVE'S BOND MAID.

» By MAY WYNNE,

Author of "For Faith and Navarre," "Mistress Cynthia," "The Spendthrift i Duke," etc., etc. , CHAPTER IV. , The next day was dull, but fine, and with great preparations Mrs. GreshamBrowne set out for her fishing, her nose tilted a little scornfully in the air, for mornhyr I'ght had not revealed the guests of the 'Goat and Compasses' in any favourable light, and, after all, fishing for fish is dreary enough sport to a woman of Mrs. Gresham-Browne's type As for Muriel, she had never thrown a fly in her life, and, after having entangled her line half a dozen times in the overhanging branches of a tree, and nearly sprained her foot in clambering I over the boulders strewn along the river bank, she left her rod to fish by itself. wedged in between two fragments of granite, whilst she wandered off into the woods to gather flowers and wild strawberries. It was a delightful day, in spite of its sunlessness, and Muriel was enjoying her solitary ramble to the full, when a splash and a scream in tie river behind sent her scurrying back to the bank. Her first thought had been that Mrs. Gresham-Browne must have.fallen in, but a quick glance showed her a trim figure. in blue linen, rushing towards Cier, screaming frantically as it stumbled alon^. "Chcoky, Cheeky, my p-precious pet," wailed Cheeky's mistress in heartfelt distress, and Muriol, following the direction of her outstretched hand, saw a small wisp of struggling fur being carried rapidly down stream. j "My poor darling," fcreamed Mrs. 1 Gresham-Browne, "I suppose—" "She hesitated a moment, her feelings ! for the aggressive little York by no means strong enough to risk a watery grave on his behalf. But the current had swept the little creature close to the bank at her feet, and, leaning forward, she made a clutch. She succeeded in catching Cheeky, but. the bank was steep and she had leant over too far. For a moment she swayed, striving to recover her balance, whilst she dropped the dripping dog on the bank behind her; but it was u*<de?*=, and with a little cry she fell forward into the stream, jusfc as Mrs. Gresham-Browne rushed to catch her. "Help, help," screamed Mrs. GreshamBrowne, and to do her jiu-aicc she even forgot the gasping Cheeky, who lay half drowned on the grass. She'll be drowned, ehe'll be drowned." And, indeed, there seemed to be every cha.nce of it, for the water was deep just here and the current strong as it rushed on towards the falls whose low. booming roar could be heard in the distance. Mrs. Gresham-Browne was not of the stuff wherof heroines are rnaj-le, and all t=he attempted to do was to lift up her voice and scream ac she paw the struggling girl being swept out into midstream. "How dreadful, how dreadful," she »obbed. "It's no use. she can't be. saved, she must be drowned," and she collapsed On to the grass, closing her eyes in nervous horror from the terribfe eight of that pale, desparing face. So it was that she did not see a boat shoot out from the. trees immediately in front of the white, drifting figure* or ncte the skill wftli which its single occupant 6teered his craft against the stream till he could stoop and clutch at the white dress. It was an instant of peril, but the man in tlie faoat knew the river. knew her moods too. and where the eddies ran swiftest. He had slipped into the water now, and with one arm round Muriel, had struck out for the shore, whilst the boat, caught in the whirlpool he had avoided, went careering towards the falls and destruction. Even now the waiters were not minded to be baulked of their prey, and it was a grim battle that the swimmer had to fight, hampered aa he wae by the unconscious girl on his arm. The woman on the bank had seen them, and even forbore to scream as she stood watching, whilst the colour came back to her cheeks and her cyee sparkled with excitement, for Mrs. Gresham-Browne knew that the man before her wan fighting for his own life, which he had risked ■for this other. In her heart she could have almost envied Muriel when at last, with ft desperate effort, he had reached the bank. "She is not dead?" she asked, with toated breath, for Muriel looked white and lifeless enough as she lay on the ground. The man—ehe had already noted that he was young, good-looking and evidently ft gentleman—stooped down and lifted the little limp hand. "No," he said, panting with exhaustion. "She has only fainted, we must carry her home." He looked across at Mrs. GreshamBrowne as he spoke. "W,e are staying at the 'Goat and Compasses," she explained. "Two miles at least," he said, speaking more easily. "We must carry her to the Castle; it's not more than half-a---mile from here." "Can't we call someone to help?" suggested Mrs. Gresham-Browne anxiously. "You look as if you were going to faint yourself." He laughed. "No fear of that, but I forg-ot, here's my flask, a little brandy would help to restore your friend as well as myself." He knelt as he spoke and poured a few drops of the spirit between Muriel's lips, but she did not swallow it. "The sooner we get her home the better," he said, rising. "I'm not much of a doctor, but I'm afraid it's a bad faint." "I'm no good in illness," murmured Mrs. Gresham-Browne, "I get so terrified over anything like this. Please let us make haste; it would be so dreadful if she were really dead, after all." The stranger stopped and lifted the unconscious girl in his arms. "You are not related?" he asked, and there was the faintest twinkle borne of her ingenuous words in his eyes. "Oh, no. not at all, she is my companion. Most extraordinary thing, too. that I should have spoken of insuring her later on—it is always the way, I have noticed again and again. If I had insured her, I don't suppose it would have happened." He did not reply. Certainly he could not have felt faint, judging from the war in which he strode forward. Mrs. Gresham-Browne, having almost to run to keep pace with him, actually had no breath left to lament her possible liabilities over the accident, or her concern for both Muriel and Cheeky, the latter of whom lay crumpled up into a ihivering ball of terror in her arms. "Here we are." said the young man at length, as they came in sight of an old grey building, ivy-grown and battlemented. looking down upon them from a fir-clad crag. '_.Tiat Elepetb, will know, wiat to do." r

Mrs. Gresham-Browne was looking at him with renewed interest. Evidently he "belonged" here, and it was certainly a very charming' place. The adventure began to interest her more pleasantly. Aunt Elspeth proved to be a middleaged lady, of severe aspect and plain attire, who softened into a kindlier mood when she saw what was required of her. Bhe paid little heed, it is true, to Mrs. Gresham-Browne, but she delayed not a minnte in having Muriel carried off to her own room, where, after rubbing her hands and feet, applying hot waterbottles and succeeding in forcing a little brandy down her throat, she was restored to consciousness. By the time this was accomplished, however, Aunt Elspeth was thoroughly interested in her patient, and insisted that it was absolutely impossible for her to be allowed to get up that day and return to the inn. "She's inclined to he feverish and light-headed," she said with decision, "'and if she's to be saved from a bad illness, poor lassie, she's best left where she is." Now this was exactly what Mrs. Gresham-Browne desired, but having already arranged her plans in her astute mind she now proceeded to demur. She would be so anxious about her, feeling her responsibility to the poor child, and besides, not being well, and with nerves shaken after such a terrible fright, the latter would naturally feel being left alone with strangers. Aunt Elspeth looked a little grim, but Scottish hospitality could do no less than extend the invitation to this over-anxious friend. Mrs. GreshamBrowne gushed forth profuse thanks. and finally it was arranged that a boy should be dispatched to the "Cioat and Compasses" with a note to Louise, from her mistress to say what she would want, "just for the night," as she took care to explain. Her end attained. Mrs. Groshi'm,Browne descended to the nail for tea, leaving Muriel to 6leep off her fever and her fright under the rare of a rugged-faced old Scotch woman, whose was unintelligible to ignorant •Sassenach ears. It was rather a \inique situation, but Mrs. Gresham-Browne was more than equal to it. She introduced herself with a smiling assurance of welcome, and wns in turn introduced to the head of the house, Sir Colin Carndale, a handsome, well-set-up old Scotchman of the true, ancient breed, Aunt Elspeth proving to be his maiden daughter and housekeeper, and "the hero of the hour,"' as Mrs. GreshAm- Browne laughingly called him—his only grandson, David Grey. Before tea wns over Mrs. GreshamBrowne was thoroughly at home, though perhaps her sprightly gaiety was a little too pronounced in Elspeth Carndale's eyes, seeing what anxiety she had apparently been suffering from only half an hour ago. But Mrs. Gresham-Browne was not concerned with the opinions of greyhaired Miss Elspeth, or even with the handsome grandson. All her forces were concentrated at present upon f\\c lord nf the. castle, and old Sir Oolin's blue pyes glinted with amusement at the brilliance of this unexpected guest's sallies. The old man*s laugh rang out genially in response to this vivacious little lady who entertained him so gaily with her anecdotes, for in his young days, he too, had travelled, and his keen blue eyes lighted up as he recalled place after place to which she referred. Miss Elspeth had never travelled, so the conversation of Mrs. GreshamBrown did not interest her. Presently she rose, murmuring something about going to see the patient. If it was a hint, Mrs. Gresham-Browne did not take. it. She *as leaning back in a quaintly carved old chair, which framed her pretty figure daintily enough, relating an amusing adventure with brigands near Capri. Nevertheless, she was quite aware that the gaunt figure in lavender alpaca had left her mistress of the situation, since David had gone out with the dogs some time before. Mrs. Gresham-Browne was now preparing for her campaign. It was a long way from sunny Capri to bleak Scotland, yet she fluttered back to it without the slightest apparent irrevelanoe. "I have really been regretting that I did not trot off to Italy or Austria again this summer," she sighed, her pink fingertips pressed together at her lips with a pensive gesture. "But I have always longed so to see Scotland, and friends told mc that I should quite fall in love with Glenarren." The sigh became more pronounced. " Well," he demanded, ready to be in arms against disparagement of his land. "And are you not so?" She found his faint Scottish accent fascinating. She made the slightest of grimaces— a mone she would have termed it. "With Glenarren —yes, but not with the 'Goat and Compasses,' I confess I am not fond of 'roughing' it and th© food is perfectly abominable, whilst as for attendance or any other convenience, they are absolutely at a discount. Muriel Armitage —my little friend upstairs—quite agreed with mc, that a week would be the utmost limit of our endurance, in spite of our admiration for the locality." ITe looked across at her shrewdly. "You're the first I've heard to make complaint of the 'Goat and Compass,'" said he. 'Some friends of ours were there last year and enjoj-ed themselves very •well." "Some friends of mine recommended mc." she replied. "I think the inn must have gone down since then, for I know the Macgregors are very particular as a rule.'' "The MacGregors? and do you know them! John MaeGregor of Demekerry? Ah, he's an old friend of mine, or rather his father before him—'canny John,' as we called him. We were school chums together in the old days, and many a game and many a prank we had together." "The world's a small place after all." said Mrs. Gresham-Browne with a smile. "Jane MaeGregor and I are the greatest of friends. I am sure she will be most sad to hear how uncomfortable we have been." "I wanted them to come and stay at the castle," said Sir Colin. "But they are independent folk, and I think they preferred the inn and some motoring friends of theirs who used to be the terror of the countryside." She laughed incredulously. "Howextraordinary—to prefer that ramshackle old inn even with motoring." "Perhaps now you'll not agree with her taste, If not we shall be very pleased and honoured if you and your friend will stay with us till the "end of your visit," he said, capitulating before the charm of his companion and ignoring the suspicion that she had been hinting for the invitation. Mrs. Gresham-Browne was smiling her sweetest across at him—there was no doubt that she was an attractive ivoman. "Oh we could not trespass on rour hospitality like that." she gushed. 'You have been too good already to »ere etrojjgers." ...._..._ .. . ' A ._. j

>;■————_———m—________i——— "If ye're friends of the MacGregors ye musn't count yourselves strangers to mc," he replied heartily. "And ii ye care to come the pleasure'll be on our side." She accepted them that such genuine delight that her host forgot the slightest qualm he had experienced wheu he thought of Elspeth? (To be continued daily.)