THE RESCUE OF OLIVIA.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXIV, Issue 13935, 18 December 1905, Page 3

THE RESCUE OF OLIVIA.

(By JOHN K. LEYS.) Author of “ The Mysterious Bridegroom,” “The Prisoner’s Secret,” etc., etc.

Under the shadow of the cliff, on a hot July afternoon, some half-dozen girls'-were lying on the sands. The sea snread out before them, quivering in the intense heat, dotted with a pleasure boat hero and there—on the right were a row of bathing-machines, groups of children playing, and a few couples busily engaged in flirting. Through the hot air came the raucous strains of a German band. , Some of the girls were reading. Packets of chocolate, fondants, and butterscotch circulated from hand to hand. At intervals they operations to gossip and to. discuss their male acquaintances. “I wish I could swim—in deep water, I mean,” said Lily Duncanson with a sigh, ... ... “ It’s quite easy,” said Olivia, with just a suspicion of scorn in her voice. " To you I dare say it is,” answered Lily, with an envious glance at Olivia’s supple limbs and strong young frame. Miss Olivia Dean’s natatory feats were quite an institution at Whitburn-on-Sea. Every morning a small crowd, among whom were several admiring young men,-watched from the beach the girl’s head as it receded farther and farther into the blue,' till it became a scarce discernible speck on the horizon; and if good manners had permitted it they would gladly have given her a cheer as she emerged from the frothing waves and ran for the shelter of her bathing machine. In addition to her line physique and her undeniable beauty, Olivia was possessed of thirty thousand pounds in her own right; and this fact, while it certainly enhanced her charms in tile eyes of the unmarried male population of the neighbourhood, contributed something, it may be, to that independence of thought and of action which figure" in her circle.

“ I should think Charley Durant can swim as well as you, Livy,” said a young lady with a quantity of yellow fluffy hair and a “sweetly pretty” mouth.

“I dare say,” said Olivia, indifferently. ■ ' . “Ever so much .better than Ned Winstanloy, anyhow.” “ He doesn’t pretend to bo a good swimmer,” said the youngest of the group, a girl of fourteen, in an-indig-nant "tone.

“No, he can’t do anything,” pursued the girl with the fluffy hair, tranquilly. “He waltzes like a crippled bear, and Charley told me he was a regular rotter at cricket.” She glanced~ shyly at Olivia, but beyond a very slight flush that young lady made ho sign. .“Ho reminds me of the silly lover in Tennyson’s ‘ Maud,’ ” went on the other, “living all by himself in that big poverty-stricken house to which no one ever goes. But someone should tell him not to drive that absurd old Noah's ark of a barouche. It really is hardly respectable.” . _ Olivia mad© no sign, but a pert young voice struck in with effect.

“ He is worth a thousand times more than a glorified cad like Charley Durant-, or a conceited fop like Algy Vernon. It isn’t his fault if he has no money to buy a new. carriage, he can’t help belonging to a family that was famous before .Blacklead was ever heard of.” But this allusion to the source of the affluence of her antagonist whs more than the other girls could put up with.

“ Shut up, Charlotte,” said one. “ Don’t b© cheeky,” said another. “ That comes of allowing children to listen to one’s talk,” began a third, when Olivia broke in with, “Don't quarrel, please. ■ It's much too hot. And don’t let us talk about young men —it’s vulgar.” “ Oh, we all know how superior you are to such weaknesses,” said the girl of the yellow hair. “ You have quit© made up your mind to die an old maid, I suppose, and so the subject is without interest for you.” “ Aren’t you ever going to get married, LivyP” asked Charlotte. Olivia made no answer. She was thinking how many proposals of marriage she had listened to, and how false the protestations of passionate devotion and eternal fidelity had rung in her ears. More than once she had thought of spreading abroad a rumour to the effect that eh© had lost her thirty thousa-nd pounds, with a view of testing the sincerity of her lovers, but she had not found the idea practicable. -She would not marry, because she had not found one she was sure she could trust. And she felt that soon the contemptuous phrase, “old maid,” might be rightly applied to her, for she was already twenty-four, and thirty did not seem a century away, as it had done a few years earlier. “ Olivia is waiting for romeone far handsomer and richer and cleverer than any man tv© know,” said the yellowhaired girl. “No 1 am not. But I find- it hard to believe that any man really loves me. How can I tell whether, if I were ugly or friendless, or poor, any of those 1 know would care to keep up acquaintance with me. If 1 were in any danger—any real danger, I mean—which of them would risk his life to save mine?”

“ Heaps of them,” said one. “Not one of them,” said another. ‘ ‘ I should like to find out, but I can’t,” said Olivia. “ I see. You can’t very well set fire to the hotel, in order to see which of admirers would rush up the lad-

tier and leap into a burning room to rescue you at the peril of his life.” “ No, but 1 might ” “ Might what I 7” “1 might No, it would never do.” 1 . ‘‘You are dreadfully mysterious!” Olivia made no reply, but sat silent tor some minutes, a smile peeping out of her handsome grey eyes and hovering round her lull red Ups. Charlotte looked curiously at her, and wo.uld have asked her what she'was thinking of, bat a party of young men, headed by Charley Durant and Algy Vernon, came up, and confidential conversation became impossible. On the following forenoon a small crowd had assembled as usual to, see Miss Olivia Dean take her morning swim. Charley Was there, and Algy, and a squad' of their friends, while a little way apart from the others a tall, pale-faced young man stood leaning over the sea wall and glancing now and then rather contemptuously at the noisy group below him. All the girls and most of the men watched the progress of the fair swimmer with keen interest. One or two oven produced field-glasses and brought them to bear upon tier. For a time she had been all but invisible, but now she could again be seen, slowly making for the land. A slight breeze ruffled the surface of the water and seemed to be retarding her progress. She still swam on, but so slowly that a note of anxiety made itself heard in the remarks of her friends.

“ I hope she doesn’t find it too much for her,” said one. “The tide has turned —she’ll have a tough job to get back,” said another. A rotund fraud of a longshoreman withdrew one hand cautiously from his breeches’ pocket, removed his pipe, and spat upon the sand. “ She’ll never do it,” he said. “ Cause why? ’Cause females ain’t got the strength for that sort o’ work. They ain’t built that way. Mark my words, her breath’ll go afore ever she makes the pier, and she’ll be drowned ■before our very eyes!” Winstanley, who had been listening to the old man turned a shade paler, but the other young men chaffed and jeered old Jpwkins, as they called him, and declared unaimously that the girl was all right. Slowly, and yet more slowly, she drew near, till she was nearly on a level with the end of the pier, and it seemed as though she were going to make' the shore without much difficulty, when suddenly two white arms went up, and a woman’s cry, a cry of distress, faint but unmistakable, trembled across the water.

“ What did I tell ye?” yelled Jawkins, as he crammed his pipe into his pocket, and with surprising celerity made for an old cobble lying on the sand at a little distance. Immediately the group on the beach broke up. Some of the girls screamed, others caught hold of a bystander and wildly implored him to save her. Durant and Vernon raced against each other for the pier-head, and everybody concluded that they. were ■ acting with excellent good sense, as well as commendable promptness. One or two foolish youths rushed, clothed as they were, into, the sea, only to return in a few minutes like half-drowned puppies. Several ran this way and that in search of boats. “She’s gone!” cried someone who had. a field-glass. “ No—l see her head! See, she is waving her arm,” cried another. Sometimes, indeed, she was altogether lost to . sight, but for the most part she managed to keep afloat. . ' Durant had reached the pier head, and had let himself down among the lower timbers, hoping, apparently that Olivia would ’ pass near enough for him to lay' bold of her and pull her in. But he had miscalculated her position. She passed him some yards off. Vernon ran about from side to side, looking for a bpat.j and not finding one he stood at the extreme edge of the pier, now yelling for someone to bring him a boat, and. now screaming encouragement and directions to the girl' struggling in', the water. ■

Scarcely observed by any, Ned Winstanley had thrown off his.ooat, waistcoat, hat and shoos, and clad only in shirt and trousers had plunged into the water.

■Ho was not a good swimmer, as we know, and he was much hampered by his clothes, but he put all bis might into, his strokes, and made fair progress. Still, he could not think that he would be iu time to save the life of the girl he loved. His idea was that she had been suddenly seized with cramp, and that that treacherous foe of the swimmer would prove her destruction before help could possibly arrive. But he was bound to do what he could—that did not need to be considered twice.

He swam on, more slowly now, as the weight of his garments told more and more on his strength. A more accomplished swimmer would not have expended so much energy at first, and would have husbanded his strength better. Winstanley _ pushed his way through the water without any thought but the torturing fear that after all He would he too late. Sometimes he saw the water blank before him, and his heart would sink; yet every now and then Olivia’s head* would appear-above the waves.- Once he could have sworn she looked at him and smiled,; and waved her arm as if beckoning him on. But he felt his strength fast failing. Ho did not dare to waste time _ by turning on his back to rest—besides, he doubted whether he could float with those garments dragging him down. It was better to" struggle on as long as ho could, and if he failed • He knew he oould not swim much longer now. He could dimly see something that must be-her arm. It seemed farther away than it had been some minutes before. His breath cam© in great panting sobs. ’ In spite of himself, his strokes .became more feeble, then quite spasmodic. He knew he was making no way—hie life was to be given in vain !

If he could but reach her, and die in her arms! But it was impossible. A hoarse cry from the beach was the last sound he was conscious of. He felt himself going down—down—-down !

When he opened his eyes he was lying on the sand, his coat; under his head, and a doctor kneeling at his side.

“ He will b© all right to-morrow.” he heard a voice say, as if from the other side of the world. A strange pain, utterly unlike anything, he had before experienced, penetrated his whole body as life came hack to him. It was worse than the pain of drowning. The doctor held a flask to his lips, aiid ho drank. Then they lifted him to carry him to the hotel, where a warm bed'had-been prepared for him. “Stop!” he whispered, and they obeyed him. “Miss Dean—where is she?”

“ Oh, she’s all right,” said the doctor, and weak as he was, Winstanley saw that he was smothering a grin. , “ You mean that she was saved?” “I mean that slio never was in any need of saving. It was simply a little Irstriouic performance on her part. I’m sorry to say you had your trouble for nothing.” ;; , “ Why, man, it was she saved you,” broke in young Durant, a fellow Winstanley particularly disliked. “ She got to you when you were sinking and held you up at considerable risk to herself, till old Jawkins got his tub alongside you, and managed to tow you both ashore. It will be in all the papers tomorrow— ‘ Gallant Rescue of a Gentleman by a Icoung Lady.’ Quite a reversal of the usual style of tbhigs, eh? and the speaker looked round upon the crowd for a sympathetic laugh, which was not slow in coming. “ Now, I can’t have this,” said th© doctor, in au authoritative tone. “Can’t

you leave the poor fellow alone? I do believe he is going to faint.” Winstanley did not faint, but no closed his eyes, and if he could have done it, ho would have closed his ears as well. The sound of half-suppressed laughter followed him from the beach.. It seemed to him that he could hoar it even as ne lay at rest in the hotel bed-

room ■ . Winstanley sent a message to mother later in the day, and at 7.1 o n-ext morning lie was on the platform or the railway station, waiting for the London express. To his relief he found an emptv compartment, but just before the train started, the door was opened, and a closely-veiled lady entered the

carriage. .“This is a smoking compartment, ma’am,” he began, but it was too latp. The train was moving. The lady faced him, and lifted her veil. It was Olivia Doan. . For some seconds they sat staring a. each other, neither speaking. Then Olivia put out her hand. Winstanley put out his, slowly, touched her gloved lingers, and withdrew it. , “ "Why are yon going away, Mr Wmstanlev?” she asked, and he noticed that her voice had no longer the old confident ring. But that did not soften

him in the least. , ■, “ To hide my shame,” he said, grimly. 52 It cf o vf/vl “Your shame? I do not understand.”

"If you had waited on the beach a little longer yesterday afternoon you would have- understood. I shall’be the laughing-stock of the neighbourhood for some time,, and so I thought I might as well be out of the way.” But— why should they laugh at you?” Olivia felt she was a hypocrite as she, said this, but none the less she, looked her companion steadily in “ the face. . .. „ , “Because I was fooled by a woman, who afterwards condescended to 'save my life. The double humiliation is quite enough to make people laugh.” “ Nonsense!” ' ,

Winstar ley only bowed, and took out a cigarette, but his hand- shook, and somehow h© never thought of lighting

it. ■ Mies Dean turned her, he ad aside, and looked steadily out of .the window on her own side of the carriage. And so she sat for some minutes. Suddenly she turned round-and held out her hand.'

“Mr Winstanley, won’t you forgive me? ' My conduct was abominable—l see it now —but indeed I hover dreami; that anyone could be harmed by. it. Still, I am very sorry. Won’t you for* give me.” ’ “ I beg you won’t speak in that way, Miss Dean. , Indeed; there is nothing to, forgive.” / “ But there is, and you can’t.forgive me because you can’t get over the wound to your pride.” With that she turned her face'sharply away, as if to intimate that she did not require any re|)ly, and Winstanley offered none. Again there was a silence of some minutes. -

This was all very different from the scene that Olivia had pictured to herself when .they, set out from her hotel,, not having.the fear of ,-Mrs Grundy before her eyes, that dewy sum- , raer morning. \She had thought of Winstanley as confused, blushing a ‘ little, pleased beyond measure with the praises and thanks that she .was ready to lavish upon him. He would show , her by his manner that he was . more deeply in love with her than ever, add -• she would gently encourage him. Yes, even if she had to toll, him in so many words that he might, say what, he chose to her, she would hear him speak thei words that she was new longing to hear, and then she would say, yes, and, he would take her to this arms there and then, and it would be deliciousmore delicious than the love-making in any story book she ever read, for was not he ■ the bravest man among them ail? ; ■ But this was very different _ Mile •after mile of landscape .went-flitting by the , window and neither of them so .much-as looked at the other. ■■ ■ • •

At length a voice, that could scarcely have been, recognised. as Olivia’s said, “ I believe I have not thanked yen for—for risking your life—and nearly losing it—to'save mine.” ' V , She did not look at, him as she .said this, but kept her eyes fixed,.on, the cushion of the. carriage. ‘Ho .gave a hard laugh. “ I scarcely think it, wa* a performance '.that, will' bear. much _in the way of congratulations,” he said 5 and she relapsed into silence. . , The train speed, and Olivia thought of changing her carriage. Then she thought she had better not. It would be a confession that 'she had come into his carriage with an object. She kept her seat and the train stopped. Winstanley leant out of his window and bought a paper. He. sought for a certain paragraph, and, sure enough,. it was there. It was a humorous ” account of the affair, the writer hinting that as the heroine never was in ariy real danger, the efforts, of the would-be rescuer (as he was styled throughout) were quite uncalled . for, and waxing eloquent over “the really heroic efforts” of the lady, “who undoubtedly had saved the rash youth from an untimely grave.” . Winstanley read -it■■•with -burning cheeks, and a queer contraction, of lips and fists, then quietly handed it to his silent companion. She read dt t laid the paper down on the seat without a word,-and turning her face quite away from him, resumed her old Occupation of staring out of the window. ■ ‘■'She does not care—not a straw,” he said to himself. -“-I dare say, when she goes back to-night sli© will entertain her friends with a witty account of this meeting. Why deuce couldn’t she leave me ilone?” But all the while his heart was "saying one, thing and his-head another. His head wa* telling him that he must forget her and the whole affair, as soon as pos-

sible, buf. his heart was aching. The train went inexorably on, and now the outlying houses of big squalid London came into sight. Winstanley rose, and took hie portmanteau down from the rail. As he did so he heard the sound of sobbing, and suddenly sat down. Olivia Dean crying! It was incredible ! His ears must have deceive? him. ;*

Ho looked sus closely at her as he da-red. Yes, there could be no doubt about it. What on earth was he to do? , . , “Take no notice,” his head said to him. “It is what she would prefer. It is the' only gentlemanly thing to do.” ' ■ : -

For half a minute or so he followed this advice, then he laid a hand timidly bn her arm. “ Don’t, please, Miss Dean. T can’t , bear to see you crying—and it isn’t worth it. I am so sorry I showed you that stupid paragraph. I thought I should like to wring the man’s neck—and I will now,” he added, viciously. “Oh, no. It wasn’t—it’s nbt that.” “ What is it then?”

“I thought you cared for me, and I see you don’t now. No, you needn’t say you do,; for I should not believe you, and, anyhow, I don’t want you to care for me—not now. But I -was 60 glad when I saw that'you wero tbe only one of them all who was'willing to risk

She said no more. Her lover had fallen on his knees on the floor of tlw

carriage, and without another word had taken her, as a man gathers a sheaf of rip© corn. When he rose from his knees there were tears in the eyes of both, of them.

“Will you go back to-night?” asked Olivia, with a strange shyness of manner, a few moments later. “Why, of course, darling, if you are going hack. We can afford to laugh at them now i”