LOVE’S BOND MAD

Hawera Star, Volume XLVI, 21 August 1926, Page 8

LOVE’S BOND MAD

BY May Wynne. Author of “For Faith and Navarre,” “Mistress Cynthia,” “The Spendthrift Duke,” etc., etc.

SYNOPSIS MURIEL ARMITAGE, known to her friends as "Sunshine," is left practically penniless by the action of her uncle. ROGER ARMITAGE, who invests (and loses) his own and her money in a worthless undertaking commended to him by JOHN HERRIES, a man whom Muriel finds distasteful, but who continues to pay her attentions. Muriel is engaged as paid companion by MRS GRESHAM-BROWNE, with whom she goes to Scotland. Having been rescued from drowning by DAVID GREY, grandson of SIR COLIN CARNDALE, a Highland laird, Muriel and her mistress are invited to the castle. Mrs Gresham-Browne endeavours to fascinate, Sir Colin. Muriel and David are thus loft to themselves a great deal. CHAPTER .VII.

Sir Colin liacT 1)0011 very charmed with his vivacious little guest. It was something new and decidedly pleasing to be made much of, and to be talked to so amusingly. The baronet was not without his vein of dry, Scotch humour and Mrs Gresham-Browne tickled it to a nicety. Then she was good to look at—Sir Colin was not acquainted with Bond Street and took complexion, eyebrows and bronzed hair in all good faith and forgot to look out for imperfections of feature. Finally the admiration had developed into something a little warmer, not love indeed, but a liking which reflected that it would be distinctly pleasant to have this dainty little lady always at hand to amuse and brighten him. The thought of his many dull tete-a-tetes with Elspeth were not cheerful to look back on; as for David, the lad would Ire wanting to spread lvis wings sooner or later and be ill content with the narrow limits of Barloch Castle. Well, let him go. let him go. Young folk ought to see the world, of course: he himself had travelled a good deal in the days of his youth, and it had made him the more contented to settle down again In his dear old homo where he was more than content to end his days in peace. The picture was, a pleasant one, but there was an underlying current of thought in the old

man's mind. Why should not this pretty and kindly woman, who, by her own account, was ready to fall down and worship Barloch Castle and every inch of the ground around, be always }>y h.is side to bring glimpses of sunshine into a somewhat grey monotony? With these reflections Sir Colin sat down before his desk, brooding contentedly over a decision already more than half-formed and day-dreaming of a bright-faced little woman who would be absolutely content to reign over Barloch Castle, attending to the needs of her lord, ministering to his comfort, amusing him with her wit and mgrry chatter. A letter with a foreign stamp attracted him. He had thought his correspondence was merely business, but this one l had escaped his notice. It was written,from a well-known hotel in the Austrian Tyrol and was from John McGregor. Sir Colin put on his pince nez and slowly read it through. Then he, turn-

eil back to the first page and re-read it. His face had flushed a little, and there was a pucker between the brows which told of rising displeasure. “Dear Sir Colin,” it ran, “delighted to get your letter and most amused at the news it contained. Yes, we know Cynthia Gresham-Browne well, entre nous I wish we didn’t. She’s a born, little gambler, and when she inveigles my wife to one of her pet bridge parties it is 'pay, pay, pay’ for me! If you don’t mind my suggesting, I would take/care not to let my friend David have much to do with her. lam told, on good authority, that she is husband-hunting in earnest, and that she has been liv-

(To be continued.)

ing on capital since her husband’s death. So it occurred to me that David’s prospective thousands were what were in her mind’s eye. I eannot imagine the gorgeous Cynthia vegetating in Scotland without some such purpose, for she is the gayest, most restless little gad-about that ever existed, and thinks Paris, London and Monte Carlo the only livable places. Poor David, he would certainly bitterly repent if he lost his heart in that direction; the wily widow would soon despoil him and go her way rejoicing. I hope my little hint -may be timely. I should not have presumed to give it without knowing the lady in question very well. Kind regards from my wife and myself.—Yours most sincerely, John McGregor.”

So that was what it all meant! Sir Colin’s brow grew darker at the galling thought. What would John McGregor say if he guessed that it was not David, but he himself, who had been nearly caught by the fascinating wiles? This charming, artless creature, whom lie was convinced had a strong personal liking for him, was nothing after all but an adventuress, a woman who could demean herself by actually setting about to find a rich husband for the sake of his wealth. To the old-fashioned ideas of Sir Colin Carmlale, such a thought was absolutely degrading. It was as if he had suddenly opened his eyes and found a pitfall yawning for him. Thought on thought crowded into his mind, as he compared the woman ho had thought of asking to fill his Elsie’s place with John McGregor’s forcible sketch. Where would have been the devoted nurse and companion? Whore the contented, light-hearted wife? Instead, he saw himself bound to one who would always have been chafing against rest and peace, and would have fretted and worried till she was allowed to recommence her gay, careless life of travel, a life to which she would probably have condemned him. Truly the thought of liis escape made him shudder; the pictures he conjured up appalled him. How clever she had been! How easily she had lied and hoodwinked him! He had been a blind old fool. Elspeth had read her aright after all. Ah! she was a clever woman, his Elspeth, and had been shrewd enough in summing up this miserable creature. His blood fa rly boiled as he thought of it all, and how easy his capture had -been. The door opened on a gentle tapping. “I may come in, mayn’t I?” chirp ad a silvery voice from behind. Sir Colin controlled himself with an effort.

<1 thought you had all started on your picnic," he said coldly. J Mrs Gresham-Browne was not m the least abashed. “I had a touch ot neuralgia, she. murmured, "and I thought I would much rather stay and keep you com- *' lie bowed, only half turning towards her whilst his pen was still in liis hand. “I must regret/" lie replied, "that I shall prove a very uninteresting companion. As I told my daughter at breakfast, I have a number of important letters to write." "Can I help you?" she asked, taking no notice of his chilly manner. "I write so quickly, and really not a bad hand. If you just tell me what to say it would be such a pleasure: you’ve no irlea what a good business woman I am.” .' "I have no doubt as to your ability in that respect, but I fear my letters must bo written by myself, thank you for your offer." She changed her ground, seeing that her suggestion was not welcome. "Is your lumbago very bad?" she asked with pretty concern. "You look as if you were suffering, and I know if it is anything like neuralgia it is so distracting." The 'dull colour crept up under the old man’s dark skin. It was insult to injury, every word of it, deceitful little minx!

"I’m vorra well, I thank you, Madam,." he replied shortly. "But I’m afraid my letters are too important to allow me the pleasure of your conversation. ’ ’

It was curt dismissal, and Mrs Grasliam-Browne could scarcely believe her ears.

"It>is so delightful here, in this dear place," she sighed bringing forward the battery of her reserve to play against the impregnable fortress. "I quite grieve to think we must so soon be leaving it." "Indeed. May Ibe allowed to know your plans? " "Wo really can’t stay later than Wednesday I am afraid.’’

"The loss will be on our side. ’’

The politeness of the rejoinder was quite formal—there was no trace of regret in Sir Colin’s voice. "Oh, no," she murmured, looking wistfully up at him. "You don’t know how I have enjoyed the rest and peace of this visit, which I shall always look back on as one of the brightest spots in a life which has not had much brightness in it." Again the pathetic appeal was seemingly lost on its hearer. “We have experienced much pleasure in your company and that of your young friend," replied Sir Colin calmly. "But lam sure a little gaiety after such, a dull visit will enliven you. -May I be permitted to know whether you are going to Paris, or Monte Carlo, or perhaps to join your friends, the McGregors, in the Austrian Tyrol?" She jumped at a. conclusion, womanlike, and woman-like was c.orrect. "Ah, you have heard from the McGregors, and they have been giving me a bad character. Now, confess, Sir Colin, they have told you that I was a frivolous little butterfly, is it not so?" Sir Colin coloured, but held his ground.

"That is hardly a question I should And it possible to answer," ho replied. "But .certainly John McGregor did not mention those words."

She shruggde her shoulders. “I do not in the least care what the worthy John thinks of me,” she said. “He bores me to extinction and thinks I one is past hope if one puts a five franc piece down at Monte Carlo. Poo? Jane.”