The Money Maid

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 20 June 1925, Page 10

The Money Maid

By WINIFRED CARTER,

Author of the successful novel, “Lass o’ Laughter,” “The Marriage Tangle,” and many other serial stories.

CHAPTER V. During that afternoon Jim had been queerly happy. Being with Joan uas the most restful thing. She had that inestimable quality in a woman, the faculty of being able to calm jagged nerves. So little she asked of mm, being content just to love him. so long as she knew, in spite of liis apparent quickness, that he loved her. .Tim smiled' as he realised what he was thinking. Perhaps it did not seem to be a very enlightened sphere lor a woman. But Jim knew that there were women like that, who were willing just to he a. man’s helpmate, and he thanked God that Joan was one of them. He found himself anticipating with pleasure the thought of the. girl’s shy ■welcome, as he hurried in-'to dress for dinner. Yet, when he came down lie heard the chatter of voices, and one voice that seemed achingly familiar. His coming downstairs was always the signal for the dinner gong to sound, and it sounded now with soft musical notes. . .He scarcely heard it. He was listening for that maddening, husky voice. He opened the door and came face to face with Sheila Carruthers. bor a moment the two looked at each othei. He was astounded at her being there. He had not dreamed of it, did not know that she had returned to England. The years that, the locusts had eaten were no more. He was back in the old lotus days when his father was alive, and life so easy to lie lived, so joyous, so carefree. Then he became aware .as Sheila thrust out her hands and caught his, of Joan’s face so starkly tragic. He took a firm grip of himself.

Had he not said so! Had he not asked her to he his wife? A wild tumult of exultation and triumphant love, surged over her, and she dropped to a chair and covered her face with her hands. •‘Oh doubting Thomas:” sue whispered to herself. “When you have everything how can you be so silly as to doubt Jim’s love!’ But down in the tiny hail,' Sheila, her face dark with passion, caught Jim’s hand. . “[ will see you Jim I Get rid of your Joan some day and have a talk with me.” Jim drew back shaking Ins head. Sheila burst out fiercely.

“Mrs. Babbington’s giving a dance. I’m staying with her. It’s next Friday. Come, ‘ and if you must—bring the others. But see you alone I will or 111 tell that simple' sweetheart of yours—what there Avas between you and me. She was gone, banging the door behind her. CHAPTER VI,

When Stephen Doyle had got wlrs Doyle’s message his face was convulsed for' a minute. Hard and crusty as he was, the news made his heart, heat queerly. He struck the bell on his desk violently, and requested that Jim should be asked to come to him, but Jim Avas already a\A T ay. That inteiview only Avaited for the next morning, and' by that time Stephen Doyle was quite sure that the girl he feared and hated most on earth was the girl Jim Avas engaged to. When Jim came in, even he Avas amazed at the hard, malignant look his uncle gave him, nor did he understand it, and unfortunately it made the breach betAvee n them Avider.

“Whv Sheila!” he said; his face was white, and a little strained, Joan saw, “What a stranger you are!”

“I had a. telephone message from your mother last night after you had gone, to say that you’re engaged. Sheila Carruthers is back, so I suppose its that fluff 3 r -haired, vain man-hunt-ing creature! She’s afraid she'll be left at the post if she doesn’t take bare, and that’s exactjLy: what Will happen, unless vou’A r e been fool enough to propose.” He drew his dark brows together and looked out frowninglv at Jim. Both men glared at each other impartially. Whatever one felt Avas returned in full measure by the other, bfit the Avords made Jim wince, as though he AA r ere touched on a raw Avouncl. He ansAvered stiffly, Avith immense reserve; only by keeping that up,-could he face existence in his uncle’s office. It seemed to him as though all the time, he was being inundated with slights and petty humiliations. These two men who could ha.A’e been good friends were at enmity. Each i-asped and irritated the other, without making the slightest attempt to find each other’s good points. “My fmancee is Joan Peterson,, a friend my mother has lately made.” Stephen Doyle breathed heavily. The relief was so sheer that he took his breath, then: “I hope she’s different from Sheila Carruthers,” retorted Stephen Doyle. “Absolutely!” retorted Jim. “There isn’t any likeness between them!” Then he dreAV himself up. “All the same uncle, Avhen I came to your office. I did not giro you the right to criticise my actions outside the office. I shall become engaged to whom I like aiid marry where I will. I shall- never ask your advice.” “I quite believe that,” said Stephen Doyle, and across his face there came a look of bitterness.' “The fact is you resent me haAang money when you have none. Don’t blame me though, blame your parents.” Jim flung out of the office, hating him Avildly. Yet Avhen he had gone Stephen Doyle stared after him, a look almost of sadness on his face. The breach was widening slowly between them. Tilings couldn’t go on as they were going much longer. This veiled enmity Avas too devasting for Jim, and for himself alike. There was one thing to the good, however. and that Avas that it Avasn’t Sheila Carruthers, to Avhom Jim Avas engaged, for Stephen Doyle loathed the girl, seeing perhaps too clearly lioav shalloAv and empty she Avas. “Joan Peterson!” he muttered to himself. “I must meet the girl. I wonder if she’s any good.” He dreAV toAvard s him a letter pad, and Avrote to Joan.

“Yes, aren’t I!”, said Sheila gaily. “I only returned from the Continent last night. I’ve had a gorgeous time ! Oh Jim! Do you remember planning tours —Italy —Switzerland, Holland in tulip time! Well, it’s good to be back in England again. Old England’s the whole world really. I’ve been a little fool to stay away so long.” She looked at Jim, looked in a way that set men’s pulses thrilling. Jim’s hand went out suddenly and closed on Joan’s wrist, and for the first time Sheila looked at her, then dismissed her from her mind. This little brown mouse of a girl had nothing to compare. with her own magical beauty Sheila had no doubt about her own good, looks.' Jim said :

“Ever been abroad, Joan?’’ - “I’ve never been away from England,” said Joan wistfully. “That’s an experience awaiting me.” Mrs. Doyle plunged recklessly. “Why!” she said in that light way of hers, by which she could carry most awlrward situations oil with an appearance of innocence. •‘You can go abroad for your honeymoon, Jonh. .Now Jim woulden’t that be an excellent suggestion? Wouldn’t you like to take Joan to Italy or France for a honeymoon! It would be such new ground for the dear child, and 1 she’s so amusing because she’s so enthusiastic. I wish I could come as well;”

There Avas a sudden tension in the rqpm. Joan looking up, caught the flash of Sheila’s eyes as they AA-ent from her face to Jim’s; then she watched the girl stiffen; her eye s narroAved, the colour receded, then came back to her face Avith a sudden gloAv. “Honeymoon!” she said sloAvly. “I don’t quite understand. Is Jim engaged by any chance?” “Why hoAv silly of me!” said Mrs. Doyle, shrugging her plump shoulders. “I thought I had told you. Jim and Joan are engaged. This is Joan Peterson !’-’

“Joan Peterson!” said Sheila, her eyes veiled. “I see. Yet, the name is familiar. Quite a romance I believe, A charming old lover of her mother’s left her heaps of money, and Miss Peterson has got it all. Ain I right?” Jim frow'ned uncomfortably.

“In the papers wasn’t it?” Quite a nine days Avonder,” draAvled Sheba. “So you are tlie fortunate girl io be engaged to Jim!” “I am fortunate,” said Joan almost defiant.

Sheila crossed and took hold of Joan’s hand, and looked at her, a strange look, half calculating, half scornful. Joan became conscious of her own appearance. Queer, but what ever good looks she had. seeined suddenly to be squ.ashed right out of being. Her colour seemed 1 to fade, to become dull, and uninteresting before this goregous, tantalising beautiful creature. Joan hated herself with a. sudden, passionate, unreasoning hatred.

“My dear Joan, “I am Jim’s uncle, and perhaps as you are aware there is no love lost between us. Nevertheless I should like to meet my nephew’s choice of wife. If you think yon could endure to meet, come into the office any time, you will be very welcome. Stephen Doyle.” Jim took his mother and Joan to the Babbington dance. Joan in a frock of sliver lace and amber looked the quaintest pixie thing, and yet when she saw Sheila, in a frock of roseate hue, shimmering, exquisite, looking in her arrogant loveliness like a flame, Joan’s face became peaked, desolate. She watched Sheila lay a possessive hand on Jim’s arm, and knew jealously, a devasting terrifying jealousy, that seared heart and mind. “Our first dance,” said Sheila. “No, the second,” said Jim firmly, and he swept unsuspecting Joan into the dance. The melody crooned softly. Joan was not yet used to dances, and to dance with Jim was heaven. Gone —the jealousy which spoiled ail — gone, fear, everything, only remained the Jilt of the throbbing band, the clasp of Jim’s arm. And Sheila watching, wondered if she had under-rated her rival’s charms . . . at last her hour came.

“Im afraid you’ll find matrimony with Jim not a voyage of adventure, but quite dull. He’s so steady Jim is! Didn’t I hear the dinner gong? I’m just starving!’ They strolled into the charming little dining room With its quaint rosy globes, and Japanese gardens on the table., Perfect in its every way was that little dinner, hut it was not exactly a success. Mrs. Doyle and Sheila kept the ball of conversation rolling through dinner. Joan was like a limp rag, not yet able to hide her feelings as the other two women did. She was afraid suddenly; something told her that between thi s beautiful giiq and Jim was an understanding of some sore. Bewildered at the heartache which had started in her own breast, she could not fathom the mystery that there was something that threatened her new-found happiness. Had they once loved ? Would it he any wonder if Jim had loved this exquisite creature, with the dark -blue, lustrous eyes, and the spun-slik golden hair, arid a mouth with its red, red lips, like a too vivid scarlet flower! The wonder was that Jim loved her. Mrs. Doyle was not exactly easy either. What if Jim should be drawn away from Joan! Bother Sheila! At last the nightmare dinner was over. Sheila turned.

They danced, Sheila and Jim. and cleverly she manoeuvred him into an alcove, Jim, stood, towering above her, looking down at the upturned starry eyes, filled with a lure, yet saying, doing nothing. Sheila Carruthers was startled. This was not the old Jim, the Jim she had known before. That Jim had adored her, had worshipped the very ground she walked on! Had she not broken his heart because she had callously slipped away! “So you’re engaged! It’s only, because she’s rich, and you need the money, but it hurts, Jim.” “I don’t understand yon, Sheila said Jim. and lie laughed bitterly. “You don’t care, so why could it hurt.” “Jim,” said Sheila Carruthers in a broken voice, “you must understand. I did go away, but you know the reason. Oh, what a pity it is you can’t have Joan Peterson’s money without marrying her. How can you expect to be happy with such an insignificant little thing.” Jim’s head went up and his eyes flashed fire. “ <

“Dear Mrs. Doyle, is there anywhere where Jim and I can have a little talk ? There’s something I must ask his advice about.”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Mrs. Doyle got to her feet. Better get it over with her. It had got to be done, so she might as well i take it philosophically. “Come along, Joan,” said Mrs. Doyle. “Let’s leave them inhere, while you and I look over our purchases.” She wouldn’t hold Jim to anything that wasn’t for his happiness! That she knew! Better for her own heart to be lacerated than Jim should have one pang. Yet Jim loved her. Loved her,

“I doii’t' know where you can have looked,”" he said stiffly, indignant at

this remark. “Joan lias beautiful eyes. It’s not true to say she’s insignificant.” Sheila Carruthers clenched her hands, and her eyes were not pleasant to look at. But she veiled them for a moment. “So, you care nothing about me any longer and vet I’ve returned to England in the'hope of patching up our old love affair. You used to love me Jim, heart and soul; there .was only me in the whole wide world for yon • Now—to come back and find you ve forgotten me!” . Jim’s face whitened. "Why did Sheila dig all this up again? In the days beforo his father’s death t before the teirible catastrophe that had robbed Jim of fortune and of his father, lie and Sheila had been lovers. Yes, he had loved her! She was right. He had loved every ring of golden hair, those dark lashes, the luminous eyes, the delicious husky voice. Oh, to Jim there was no woman on earth so wonderful, so beautiful, so perfect in every way, body and soul, as Sheila Carruthers but she had shown the cloven hoot in his hour, of need. “Sheila,” he said sternly, and that stern note thrilled her to the understanding that this Jim was a man who would not be trifled with. “When father died, there was no money. You went away without a word fo me! Did you remain faithful?” She nodded. Tears stood in her eyes. “That’s why I came back,” she whispered. Jim looked at her astounded. “Too late,” lie said harshly. “Too late.” Sheila standing there, felt a deadly chill creep over her. She had spoken on the impulse of the moment. She meant to marry no man who wasn’t rich. Yet she had at least believed that Jim would be willing to fling everything to one side for the sheer joy of the tempting bait she held out to him, and in that moment there arose in her heart, such a fierce desire for vengeance on Joan Peterson, who. she felt, had robbed her of the allegiance of this man. For though she had no intention of marrying a poor man, she realised now, as she often did, that only Jim could really touch her heart. What was more, she was positive Jim’s love was still hers. Was it likely that a girl, like Joan, could separate Jim from her like this! Suddenly Sheila sighed'—a little piteous sigh, but in her heart she meant that Joan should pay —to the last farthing for this. “I sti'l love you, Jim! I came back because I couldn’t bear it a moment longer. Don’t let’s talk about my feelings, though! Even if my heart is broken, what does it matter to you, with your rich sweetheart! I thought money counted once —then I doubted. Now I know love is the only thing that counts.”

“Don’t!” said' Jim huskily. “I can’t bear to hear you talk like that, Sheila.”

“Jim! To prove you do care, kiss me now, Jim!” she whispered, and she closed those wondlerful eyes in which a man might drown his soul. Kiss me, Jim!” she whispered again, and swayed, touching him with tremulous, lingering fingers. Sheila Carruthers looked beautiful anywhere and ruider any circumstances. In those fathomless dark blue eyes of hers men Tead a big soul! Once Jim had found to his cost that though this Sheila rvas on the outside perfect, yet when he probed to the bottom of the £ioui he had endowed her with he found it wasn’t there.

He stared at her, and thought of the heartache of the old days. The desperate, terrible heartache! Life had taken away then all the good things it had promised. Together with the devastating blow of his father’s death came the fact that he. would have to work in the office he hated; came the fact too, that he would have to look after his mother, and be the head of the household; keep her from spending money ivhich trickled through her fingers like water, because there was no money. In this moment of boyish torture he, had looked confidently to Sheila, hut Sheila had not pulled her weight. The thing had cut to the raw. He moved back, and spoke casually. “I must go! It’s my dance with Joan.”

“Stop!” said Sheila, and now she was laughing. “Dear old Jim! Stili wearing a hair shirt. He shan’t kiss me if he’s afraid of walking into temptation. Joking apart, I want to talk to you about Lord Allerton.” Jim winced. Sheila saw it. and smiled triumphantly. “He wants to marry me, Jim.” 1 ‘Good heavens! But you’re not thinking of accepting him?” said Jim in disgust. “You don’t need me to tell you the man’s_absolutely a rotter !” “He’s so rich,” said Sheila plaintively. “If I married him I should be doing no more than you are. You are marrying Joan Peterson for her money. I’]] he marrying him for his.” “Don’t talk like That!” said Jim fiercely. Sheila shrugged her shoulders prettily. “I should certainlv be marrying Lord Allerton for his, Jim.” Jim’s face was white.

“Don’t marry Lord Allerton, Sheila. You’d be utterly miserable. He’ll ruin your life. He’s utterly without morals, and he cares for nothing but hi s own pleasure. It’s unthinkable for you to marry him.” She got to her feet, went slowly to the alcove door, and pulled aside the gorgeous sapphire blue curtain —it made a background for her flaming gown, her soft bright hair, her whole radiant glowing personality. “You could save me from it, Jim,” and her lips trembled. She was playing with fire!

Jim moved forward, and pointed — “Joan’s dancing with Lord Allerton!” lie said savagely, and swept out, and Sheila, literally shaking with baffled rage, followed. When Jim, his face quite angry for him, claimed Joan, Sheila was there, too, close on his lieels, and there was a queer glint in her eyes. “Wait a minute, Jim,” she said. There was dead silence for a moment. -Tonn looked anxiously from one to another. Sheila seemed ready for anything. An undercurrent of feeling was plainly to he sensed; something deadly behind the dazzling splendour of Spieila Ciarruthers. “You’ll want to eongratualte Victor, I’m sure,” Sheila added gaily. Mrs. Doyle, dapeing with Mark Passon, and looking not a day more than thirty, heard that tone, and knew Sheila was out lor trouble, and she stopped, and with her partner she joined the group. “Congratulate Lord Allerton do you mean? Why ” said Mrs. Doyle curiously. She gave a glance almost of Contempt at Victor, Lord AJilerton. He was a handsome, carefully-pre-served, middle-aged man, who scandalised society with his methods of getting amusement. Mrs. Doyle wished Sheila wouldn’t have so much to do with, him. “Victor and I are engaged! We’re to be married quite soon.” And Joan, watching, had a sudden stab of intuition. Sheila hadn’t been engaged! She had said that to wound Jim. (To be continued).