"ON THE WINDS OF THE SOUTH"

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 83, 8 April 1930, Page 18

"ON THE WINDS OF THE SOUTH"

f By 1 || COUNTESS VON HAARSCH jj

CHAPTER XXIV.

He paused. She was sitting upright in her armchair and looking at him, but not a muscle of her face moved. "Not a penny," he repeated. "Uncle John left a will —that's true — but a codicil was discovered. Uncle John disinherited me utterly if, at any time before or after his death, I contracted marriage with a foreigner. You see — there was the example of his own wife. French, wasn't she?" Rachel nodded. "On the face of thiis, the codicil could be easily explained. Ee was trying to guard me —as it were." He took a deep breath. "Legally, the codicil was quite valid — that's if it had ever come into any lawyer's hands. But I took care that it didn't." "You mean?" she asked sharply. "I never spoke of it to anyone"—her voice sent him into a panic—"just let things go on as though Uncle John had left no such codicil. And—for a time — I did think no one knew anything about it, but some years ago I discovered that I was mistaken. There lived a woman in Sicily who knew all about this codicil. I've never been able to discover how she did get 'hold of the facts, and she started to 'blackmail me —very successfully. She knew I couldn't afford to recognise lolanda. If I did, she would have come forward with the damning codicil. She seemed to have found out that I, too, knew all about it. - She knew I could .put forth no plea of ignorance. She held me entirely in her grip. My dear," he eaid lamely, "I had no alternative but to go on paying her."

"I am not making any accusation," Lady Fayne replied in a level voice. "Some time ago," he resumed, "she became utterly unreasonable in 'her demands, and Erroll, who, by the way, knows the entire story, and myself decided to £end Michael out to come to some definite understanding with the woman. She was lolanda's old nurse. We didn't tell Michael everything. We both thought there would be no need , to. But—he met lolanda, and you know the rest." . "Do both of them know about the fraud in connection with the will?" asked Rachaei. He winched at the word. "Hardly yet. I shouldn't imagine Aesunta would have told either of them. But on Erroll'e advice and acting upon Michael's' letters—the way she treated the poor girl was wicked—l decided to put the matter in the hands' of the authorities. She'll doubtless be arrested in a day or two." _ "What'll happen then?" He wished she weren't asking questions in such a bueiness-like, way. «Oh —she'll get into prison," 'he answered. "There's more than enough evidence. York—the butler I had dismissed a few weeks ago—is mixed up in this in some mysterious way. I gather Assunta. had something like a gang working for her." "She will go to prieon,' repeated Rachel in a remote voice. <And ~ Harry—'how are you going to 'be involved?" . . , "I shall admit everything," he replied. "It doesn't matter to me whether she actually possesses documentary evidence about the codicil. I shall admit it at once. I am not going to await legal exposure." ... ■„ "What exactly will'it mean to you? she asked slowly. . • "A more or lees crashing rum. I shall forfeit the bulk of my fortune. I shall keep Fayne Court! That is-I am not quitevsure yet; but the rest will go. She' said nothing. And, unable to control himself any longer, he cried, like a man on the rack: "Rachel —speak —for God's sakej Don't torture me! Speak!. Tell me— "What can I tell you," she whispered. "Harry—l am terribly sorry. I—" her lips quivered —"I hadn't imagined it would he anything like that. * e .s— x have nothing more to say—l am terribly, terribly sorry. You must have suflered such a lot—and why ever did you not tell me before? 1 ' "How could I?" he cried. But— Rachel —do you mean to tell me that you are —not condemning me?" "Condemn you!" she raised her head. "My dear, dear Harry, how could I condemn you? I could tell you that you might have faced it years ago, but. haven't you suffered enough of .'that? And aren't you going'to suffer more? My dear man—do you mean to tell me tltat you doubted me?"

He covered his face in 'both, hands. "Darling," he muttered. "I had feared that you would leave me —when you knew!" "Leave you!" she echoed — her lipe trembling. "When you are in such trouble! When you need me as you lhave never needed me before ? When you have owned to the wrong you did and are ready to shoulder the consequences? Harry, do I deserve that you should think of me in this way?" And swiftly she crossed the room to where he was sitting, his head bent very low, and laid her firm hand on Ms shoulder. "Harry —I don't for a moment deny that what you have done is utterly wrong! But you are going to pay the price like a man. And it's the least I can do to stand by you. I'm so glad you have told meall —at last." He raised his head, as though unable to believe his ears, but Rachel's eyes told him the truth. He caught her into his arms and whispered, 'his lips close to her golden hair: "Sweetheart —I don't deserve it! After the way I've treated you — that you should stand by me so loyally!" "I prefer to think differently," she replied, her head on his shoulder. "Dearest man—you've kept all this from me because you did not want to worry me." "And even now, when you know what I have done — why do you — why do you—" "Because I love you," she answered very simply.

The same evening came the -wire announcing Michael's arrival the following day. Fayne brought it into the library where Rachel sat by the fire, her golden head bent over some embroidery. "Darling," he said, "the children are •coming to-morrow." She raised 'her eyes, and he knew that, whatever was to come, he held her closer than ever before in a companionship, the lovely ixtterlinese of -which was unspoiled, by anything kept back in fear and hesitation. And the wonder of it filled him with euch awe that he stretched out his hands like a shy young lever might have done. Smilingly,. Rachel rose and came towards him. CHAPTER XXV. At the very moment when Michael and lolanda stepped out of the boat train at Victoria, reporters of the biggest newspapers in Rome were eagerly mopping up details of a most curious case. And the reverberations of this case reached England in due time, though neither Michael nor lolanda had any suspicions about it—at the moment of their arrival. A car had been sent to meet them. The chauffeur explained that Lord Fayne would have come to London himself, but was unavoidably prevented. Michael sensed lolanda's unspoken feelings: "Does he want to see me at all?" and closed his hand over her suddenly cold and rigid fingers. "Wβ are going home, darling," he whispered, but all through the two hours of drive through the russet leafy woods lolanda sat listless and immobile, It was almost as though she remained unaware of Michael's nearness. Now and again her fingers "would slip into, his hand and remain there — terribly cold, terribly rigid, but she hardly spoke at all, and sat, her eyes riveted on the autumn landscapes of deep crimson and dull gold. Only once did she whisper: "Isn't it all wonderful, Michael?" But he knew better than to break through her silence. His own feelings were mixed. Earlier in the train he had picked up a copy of the day's paper, had read the curt, formal announcement that Lord Fayne was shortly expecting his only daughter, Lady lolanda, now . married to Mr. Michael Erroll, to come home from Italy, where she had spent all her childhood and youth. It had not bden generally known that Lord Fayne'a first wife belonged to a noble Sicilian family, etc., etc. Michael did not show the paper to lolanda. The casual paragraph sickened him for no definite reason. It looked like a cheap advertising retribution for a father's years-long neglect of his one and only daughter. And the two were about to meet. He wanted to ask her not to condemn her father too much,

'but the -words choked in his throat. And the swift, noiseless car was quickly approaching Fayne Court. The four-mile drive, lined with majestic poplars, arrested lolanda's attention. "This should always have been my home," she said in a very small voice. "How lovely." She leant her head out of the window and the huge black eyes seemed to drink in the wonders of the enormous park. And Michael sat, considering her a wonder set'apart, in her black fur coat, a small black felt hat pulled over her head, the perfectly chiselled pale face reflecting a thousand different moods. . And —as the grey stone mansion flashed into their view—he tried to say something, and again his voice failed him. The car stopped. He could see all of them, his own father, Fayne, Rachel, standing on the grey steps. The chauffeur sprang from his seat, but even his agility proved too slow for Michael's wife. In less than an instant she was out of the car, her, tiny feet covering the ground with lightning swiftness. At the foot of the porch steps she halted, for the briefest of all brief moments, and then rushed straight- towards the tall man who, as her heart had guessed, was her father.

"Father!" The tiny cry echoed down the court. The car purred off. Michael, his eyes unexpectedly dimmed, advanced towards the little group." Halfuncer talnly, he gripped his father's hands, heard, as though from a vast distance, his warm greeting, then bowed to Rachel Fayne, who, by way of return, gave him an eager motherly kisa. But the little group did not really exist for Michael. The only two people on his horizon were his adored wife and her father— who stood close together. They were talking. . . But Michael, his father and Fayne's wife knew instinctively that those two were to be left to themselves —just for a little while. So the three silently skirted round the porch and entered the house by a side door. Once inside, Michael turned to his father. "It does look a ghastly business, you see" —his hands shook—"she knows everything. I tried to keep it from her, but I failed." And he related how Assunta, with well-nigh fiendish cruelty, had thrown into lolanda's face the bitter truth of her father not wanting her all theso years." "Che didn't give us any reasons," he added, "but she showed us enough proof to convince ua that, whatever were the motives, this was the way he acted!

Can you imagine what lolanda felt like when she knew this? I tried to do my poor best by telling her that it was too early to draw conclusions, but ours was hardly a merry wedding journey. It'a been weighing on her mind ever since." And then all suddenly he became aware of Lady Payne's presence in the room. "Do forgive me," he faltered, "I don't know—l shouldn't have been, talking like I did-—but if you only knew what it's been like these last weeks!" And he gave them a brief narrative of all that had happened in Rome. "This woman ought to get her deserts," he finished, hot resentment crowding into his voice. (To be concluded.)