The Money Maid

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 11 July 1925, Page 15

The Money Maid

By WINIFRED CARTER,

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

CHAPTER XV. To-morrow 1 Did Jim really want her to marry him to-morrow! Seeing tlie light in'her eyes Jim suddenly swept her into his arms. No one could Have been more amazed than he was at ins own feelings; he realised how absolutely Joan had crept into liis heart. Actually the idea of marrying her quietly without anyone knowing was an intoxicating thought. And Joan, clasped there, feeling the beating of liis heart against hers, felt as though s he winged her way up to the stars. This little room of hers where siie had suffered loneliness and poverty in the past was now transformed into paradise. „ . ~ “So you are willing, little sweet, whispered Jim, and his face was like a schoolboy’s, mischievous, glowing. She nodded, flushing, adorably. ‘‘But your mother. What will she say?” she protested. ‘‘For once I don’t care,” said Jim. “After ail it’s the man’s and his girls own affair how and when they get married 1 Nothing venture, nothing have, Joan! You can’t go back on your word!”

and to-day, by a miracle. I’m Mrs. Jim Doyle!' Both, men laughed, and yet in that laughter there was a touch of deep ieeinig. “Here’s the car! I’m not going to torment yon by tying shoes_ behind ox throwing confetti. but ic you unit another moment 1 shall be tempted. Good-bye, Mrs. Jim Doyle! Let’s hope being that will come up to expectations!” . “It will! It will!’ said Joan x haven’t the least doubt! 1 know!” The next moment she was in the car any they were being swept away for their wedding breakfast. 'They had that meal in a big caie, which Jim knew had jolly little alcoves screened with palms. Here Joan tried lo eat, but her eyes were all the time lixej with that half shy, half adoiing look on her husband. She tas in an enchanted land. The strains of a band played in an exquisite monotony. Life "was beginning, it crooned to joan. . . . There were flower s on the table, but all that Joan saw were Jim’s tender eves. Neither knew tnat they ate. Presently., they got up, and in the car she turned to him ner face confused, almost a little ashamed. “I’v e never asked you where we’re going Jim. You’ll think I m absolute-* iv a'scatterbrain!” 1 shan’t! ’ said Jim, smiling gafiy. “1 shall think you’re adorable. We’re going to have an absolutely gorgeous time in Cornwall,- where one of mv most cherished possess ids* is a tinv "cottage, I bought it for. a mere song on my twenty-first birthday, and it’s°been let furnished. It cam© empty just right for us. I wired to an old idllage woman to get it in readiness, yesterday, the moment you consented, do it will all be ready fo r us, and we shall have it all alone, Joan, and you shall see Falmouth lighthouse in the moonlight and the beaches of the Fal, with the silver glow of evening burnishing it. You shall go fishing up the river, and lift up great flat stones and find wriggling eeis underneath, and the old fisherman will bring round lobsters; and you shall taste Cornish pasties and clotted cream with strawberries, and I’ll just show you where, a s a boy, I had my joiliest times, where, as a man I’m going still to have my jolliest time.” Joan looked at him and smiled, her dewy eyes filled with enchantment. CHAPTER XVI.

Joan clasped her hands across her breast. “I don’t want'to go bqck on it. Almost 1 dreaded my wedding day, because of the polnp and ceremony. I’m not that sort of girl, Jim. lou re not marrying a girl who wants to be anything big in society. L’m a little home bird, a little brown hom e bird, whose one aim is to line lier nest and make it cosy.” “You adorable darling! said Jim, and his arms went round her again, and her face was pressed against ms. Presently they went back. They said nothing to Angela, 'although she was arranging matters, the caterer, grumbling Because Madame Luica had not got on well enough with her own dress, yet quite perfectly happy at heart over all the commotion, and Joan felt a dreadful little hypocrite, but Jim put his finger to his lips to enforce the conspiracy. Once Jim caught her hand under the table and squeezed it as though they were a couple of truants, sharing a glorious secret. And oh! It was a glorious secret. When Joan went to bed that night she dropped by her bed, anj leaned her head on her hands. The whole gentle soul of her went out in gratitude to God, that such happiness was to he hers.

Early next morning she was awake, and had dressed in a new Nottingham lace frock of sheer gossamer weaving, one of her trousseau frocks. Over this went a glorious fur wrap, the most extravagant thing Joan had bought. Then Jim and she breakfasted as u s uai; u little breakfast that breakfast was , . and then, before Mrs. Doyle w'as astir, they crept out and went to the caT. At the registrar’s office. Stephen Doyle, the only one in the secret, was already there, immaculate in grey, with a buttonhole and a silk_top hat. Satisfaction beamed from ln s ©very pore. He felt as though he Had been exceedingly clever in suggesting this to Jim, and he entirely approved. “Well, my boy, this is the best day's work you’ve ever done, and she looks a perfect peach!” he said. Coming from uncle Stephen it was praise indeed, and Joan flushed exquisitely, looking like a newly opened rose, all soft ami sweet, and Jim’s heart gave a queer little stirring in his breast. . Last night in that dingy little aLic room he had folded Joan to his heart; It had been as though some little nestlino- bird had crooned there, and the utter, appealing helplessness of her, had stirred him to strange emotions. Not the same that he had ever felt for Sheila; the mere thought of that wild, uncontrollable adoration made him feel uncomfortable. This wag somehow different; there was something about Joan that made a man feel that goodness was worth while, that love could he something different from the old devastating, feverish excitement. Joan used no arts and wiles. She did not blow hot one moment and cold the next just to see how far her power went. Joan would disdain such questionable nets to catch him. Oh, hut she was so wholesome, so sweet, so innocent —bless her.

Mrs. Doyle was surprised to see he? brother-in-law arrive. Ske had been trying her best to find out what had happened to Joan; she was positively vexed that Joan should have put on that special lace frock and lovely fur coat and have gone out, leaving no word behind her. Stephen Doyle’s first "words put her wise. “Well Angela, Jim’s taken the bu between liis teeth. He and Joan are married.” ; “Do you mean to say that ungrateiul girl has gone off and married Jim, without saying a word, when she knows that the invitations are sent out?” gasped Angela. Stephen Doyle nodded. “Well! I for one shall never speak to her again so long a s I live! I’m thoroughly disgusted with Jim, too. 1 cal] it a mean trick, but I -blame Joan most.” “Look here Angela,” said Stephen Doyle, firmly, “you’ve always had y° u r own way all your life, and you wanted this grand wedding. I can understand that, but there’s something been going on which you don’t know anything about. That girl Sheila has been trying to break things off with Jim and Joan. Do you know that yesterday, she was so satisfactory in her attempt to make a rift, that Joan broke the engagement, and then did the mad thing of making over half her money to Jim, by -deed of gift. That wa s due to Sheila Carruthers. She told Joan that she and Jim were lovers long ago, and that Jim still loved her. You and 1. know that the boy was disillusioned, when she faded away without so much as a good-bye. I detested the girl then! Such cruelty was abnormal with the wedding in a few days, too.” Angela’s face was a study. She, who prided herself on her intuition had never known of the subtle interference. “Angela one of .the reasons why I kept Jim so down where money was concerned, was because I was afraid that girl would come back. In her empty, vain-glorious way, I believe she likes Jim. She likes his handsome face, and Jim’s masterful ways! She didn’t want to marry him, but she couldn’t bear that he should marry

He caught both her little hands as they moved forward. Uncle Stephen rather fussy, going first. He turned, however, and caught the whisper from Jim. “Not afraid, sweetheart?” “Never with you, Jim,” said Joan softly, and the old man got a queer feeling, that he o'ught not to be there, almost as though this love of theirs was not on earth. Now they were inside . . . words were spoken, strangely uninspired they seemed for 60 wonderful a happening. Those words made Jim hers forever! She was his before—Gut now it was made sure by law. She asked no more of life than to be Jim’s wife! Only one thing she wished sometimes, that they were really poor. So tliat by her never ceasing endeavour to make him happy, lie would perceive just a fraction "of how unutterably dear he was to her . . . Married ! So >n, so easily it was accomplished. A little dazej she found Herself outside, Uncle Stephen beaming as if it had been his own wedding. “Now you’re going straight away by vourselves to have lunch, and then off to the station. I don’t know whether I’m new fangled, or old fashioned, but [ don’t approve of wedding breakfasts and receptions and all that stuff. When I was a young man I always determined I’d run off with my girl, and have her to myself on my wedding dav. You’re a sensible young man, Jim. You two go along now, and get lunch together, and I’ll go and tackle Angela Doyle. It won’t be easy, bat Tbl do it manfully.” „ “You’re a brick, uncle!” said hm, and his grateful grasp of the old man’s hand touched Stephen Doyle. He owed his friendliness on Jim s part to Joan. Joan had worked the miracle. She, with her two tremulous hands, and her great belief in them both, had made Jim a friend. Joan turned to the old man, lifted her face childishly, and received his k ‘ SS - , , • , “God bless you dear, he said, a little huskily. I Joan’s lips moved. “What are you whispering about there you enchanting wee thing?” said Jim, bending over her. “I’m saying my name! Just think! I went in only a moment ago, Joan Peterson ! Joan Peterson, who for nearly all her life had been tucked away iu a backwater, with scarcely a friend,

Joan, and when she got back and found he was fond of Joan, she was jealous. She tried to break Joan’s heart!” “1 never trusted her. The little deceiver!” muttered Angela.

ail those quixotic, foolish, old fashioned ideas would go by the board. She meant to be thei'e to put her weight in the scale. “Quite a queer situation I agree! said Angela Doyle, but now Sheua noted there was satisfaction in hei’ voice and she looked at her anxiously. “Is Jim upset? I’d like to see Jim. Is he at the office?” “He is not,” blurted out Stephen Doyle. “The romantic boy i s not 1 * * 'Now a strange terror gripped Sheila, •"ion talk in riddlesi sue snapped. “Do explain.” , “Why what do you think they ve done?” said Mrs. Doyle, wickedly, enjoying the situation. “Couldn’t say,” said Sheila airily, but her eyes narrowed and her nails dug into her satiny pink palms, llieie was silence for a moment. That silence tortured Sheila. .. “What have they done?” said’ Sheila, and there was almost a savage note in her voice, though she covered it up by laughing sweetly. Mrs. Doyle was furious with feheila for trying to break olf a match which had to be so carefully manoeuvred, and so she did not spare her. “Why the reckless pair got married this mornint without a word to anyone 1 Can yon believe it ? The real wedding was in a few days, too. I never knew the present day young man was as bad a s that! He was impatient to get Joan all to himself.” Sheila swallowed; the world rocked Then she recovered. Her eyes were hard and metallic as she looked at Stephen Doyle. . .. “You had a hand in this,- she said, bitterly. . ■ ’ , . “What if I had,” said the old man, seandaiised at the war being carried into his own camp. “I’ve every right to go and witness my nephew’s signature at a registrar’s office when he is marrying a girl I most thoroughly approve “Yes, you always hated me,” said Sheila. “You knew I loved Jim.” “I knew you loved yourself,” said the old man harshly. “Mo, Sheila Carruthers, 1 never was your friend, but if you’d stuck to the boy when the money went and lie was heartbroken over his father’s death, and the fact that had played ducks and drakes with everything then I’d have stuck to you The boy would have earned his spui’s. I’ve raised his .salary to a large one lately, so that the boy will be independent—but I’d have done more than that if you’d married Jim. You left him to sink or swim. A smaller man would have gone under. Jim came up grimly —found Joan. Joan saved him from bitter loneliness.” . Sheila shivered. Jim married 1 God! How that burned with a fierce fire. “You knew Jim wa,s happily engaged to Joan, and yet you did your level best to break it off. _ She did break it | oft yesterday, but Jim I Well, thank God, Jim cared for her!” “I don’t believe it!” said Sheila passionately, flinging back her head. “Jim’s quixotic! H©’ s done it just because he’s engaged to her, and had asked her to marry him. I know him a million times better than you do, and 1 know that he loves me! Always has done, always will do. You think you’ve got the best of me now, but I 11 get even. You may think that I care only for pleasure, for clothes, and playing my part, but you’re wrong. I’ve never yet forgiven an injury! I’ve always made the person who hurt me — pay!” , r . Fiercely she stood there confronting them, the look on her face that of a beautiful wild animal, ready to spring. Then she turned, leaving them there, staring after her. “I’ll make Jim pay and Joan too that will hurt you most!” she stormed back from the door —primitive woman in her fierce, tempestuous mien. Then she was gone, slamming doors, wounding in her wake. “Well, I never 1 The modern girl hasn’t a scrap of self-control. You ought to go down on your knees, Angela Doyle, and thank God that Jim did miss that termagent. Now it’s up to us to see she doesn’t spoil their happiness. Jim’s happy with Joan. Joan’s a home girl, and can’t cope with a girl as unscrupulous as Sheila, so it’s up to us to protect Joan from that beautiful vampire Sheila Carrut he re. “I agree!” said Angela Doyle, and she found she was trembling, so thoroughly had Sheila’s exhibition upset her.

The honevmooners knew nothing or all this turmoil and cared less. Theirs to be perfectly and absolutely happy! Joan, like a happy child, let loose from school, played for the first time in her rife, and played with her whole soul. She paddled with Jim in the creeks, went fishing, lazed for glorious hours up the Fal.. She .stood for long ecstatic moments, her hands in Jim’s on the summit of the rocks, the dazzling Cornish sky overhead, and the rippling, shimmering waters of the river crashing out of the creek to meet the Fal and sweeping past the lighthouse to the sea. They watched the seagulls sweep round, "and threw them sprats. They went for long walks returning tired in the evening to the little cottage; here the woman had done the work, had left dinner cooking for them and ready for them, save for being taken out of the oven. They' were halcyon days! In tlie days that came Joan knew that she had tasted then of the sweetest things of life that such unmixed happiness was rarely given to a .woman in such abundance as came to her. . . They swam *in little .secluded creeks. She could do but a few strokes at first, but Jim taught her and she became quite an expert. To see her attempt diving thrilled Jim with a sense of protection. Oh, all these dear, familiar, homelj

“1 suggested to Jim that he should wait no longer. It wasn’t safe. Look here, my dear, perhaps I judged you hardly in the old days. You were extravagant, you know. I’ve been thinking tilings over. We ought to be friends. You’ve accepted my oiler of an allowance—forgive the newly-weds —and forgive me.” Angela Doyle turned round and her eyes were misty. Underneath the polished exterior, deep down there wa s a heart, and the old man had touched it uow. “I daresay I’ve deserved all you thought,” she admitted tearfully. “I’ll certainly forgive them and I’ll be glad to be friends.” They clasped hands, but a voice from the door roused both to the moment. “Oh, Angela, darling, aren’t I frightful being so unceremonious; the maid said just at home, but J just darted in. Is .Joan about?” Mrs. Doyle shook her head; for once, her pussy cat claws were out. She felt she'd like to give Miss Sheila a dig. "No, indeed!” she sighed; “She’s left me!” Sheila looked surprised, but her surprise was put on. So Joan had gone! Her schemes had succeeded. “Where has she gone?” she questioned, innocence in her heavenly biue eyes. Mrs. Doyle gave Stephen a look of whimsica] enjoyment. “That’s just what I’d like to know.” “Has she run away?” said Sheila, excitedly. “But whatever for? An heiress and engaged to Jim 1 Why on earth should she have left him and you, so suddenly. In spite of her remarks she fully expected that Joan had run away. She had hoped fiercely that Joan had gone only she did wish Joan had done something for Jim in the way of money. Perhap s Jim -would be hesitating about accepting anything from Joan. She’d go to the office and seo him, and then

things, were what both loved, and the world and the things of the world were forgotten. At least Joan had her hour then, when the cup of happiness was lifted brimming full to her eager lips. Then one day Jim got a paper heavilj scored with blue pencil. It gave a brief account of a wedding which had been carried out in a registry office between Lord Allerton and Sheila Carruthers. Joan was watching him and saw his face was perturbed, but only for a moment. Then he looked at Joan. There was a vidid beauty about her today. Comforted lie picked up the picnic sachel.

‘‘Race you to the gate!’’ he cried, and Joan flashed past, the cloud gone So quickly time went alas, during that honeymoon. It came to an eno at last, any they returned to London The house at Richmond was all ready

for them Mrs. Doyle had .seen to that It was a perfect little place in its way exquisitely furnished, with three good maids, and a new little two-seater car in the garage. Uncle Stephen’s wedding present to Jim, so that he could drive to business.

Together like two children they went over "the house. It was lovely. The first night in her own home! Joan was so, happy! And so was Jim! The dressing bell sounded, and Joan dressed. VeTy winsome did the little wife look as she came down. Jim followed more leisurely, and was intercepted by a discreet maid. Jim went into the study. A girl stood there, heavily veiled. She flung