“The Shadow of Verneside"

Manawatu Times, Volume 62, Issue 68, 22 March 1937, Page 9

“The Shadow of Verneside"

•• Wer# 7*o going to pa»s me by. M«ur .... Mr Holland?'’ sh« asked with the haunting note of appeal which he knew so well. "JoyI” he exclaimed, the laet ol hla resentment vanishing at the sight of her. “ You are the last person 1 expected to meet here." '* Was I so far from your thought then?" “My mind was so full of you 1 wasn't watching where I was going. We are near the flat. Do come and help me to make tea, will you? I want to talk to you." “ I have been expecting you at the gallery," said Joy as she turned and walked at hla side. “ Have you ?" replied Verne briefly and hesitated. An explanation was certainly due to him, he thought. " Yes, I was sure you would come round and forgive me." Verne felt his long nourished anger ebbing. “ You little witch 1" he cried. “You know you owe me a most abject apology. Until you make It I will have nothing to do with you." “ Maurice,” she cried, “ Indeed I do apologise. But I have been quite, •lulte the most miserable ...” “ No," he Interrupted, " 1 have been that.” “ You see, I got a wire on Saturday calling me to the country and everything else. . . well. It didn’t go out of my head, but there was no time for even a message. I thought about you all the way and knew I had not been fair. But I felt you would understand—somehow. I felt you must understand, Maurioe, we have been such good friends. I was going to wTlte you on Monday when I returned but I told myself you were certain to come In. When you didn't appear day after day my courage all faded away. Do look at me and say you can forgive me, please 1" No man could have withstood the appeal in her voice and eyes, much less Maurice Verne whose heart was beating madly with love for her. As he fitted the key In the door she laid a hand on his arm. "I can't go in till I’m forgiven," •he urged, hesitating on the threshold, and coercing him with a smile. ” You are forgiven." He caught her hand and drew her Inside. Even as he epoke he realised that she had mad* only an apology, not an explanation. But nothing mattered now that ahe was near him. His heart sang as she walked about his little sitting-room. Together they made tea. Verne watched her, fascinated. She was like a spirit of joy. Surely no man bad ever loved as he did. “ Yes," he said presently, " I wonder If you know the power vou have to m-\-r me wretched?" replied she, avoiding his ' I would not willingly make I" e "retched. Haven’t you quite forgiven me after all?" She tried to aw ay his sudden seriousness. „ Tell me," he went on, “are there times when you feel you do not quite Muii me “ “ Oh, no, never." She was emphatle. ‘I would not be with you now Maurice. In your flat, If I did no! I™’* YOU. Do let's enjoy tea and not_ bother with silly questions.” ' Joy.” persisted Verne. “ I’m a ocuta to bother you I know, bul 1 f *«l ‘here Is a shadow between u» Joy. dear, I can't beat that anything—anything at all ■hould ever come between us. Tel' me, have you ever felt It yourself?" Joy's face had lost Its smile. She gtrt up and walked to the window and stood looking down into the square Aenie watched her hungrily. Tht desire to follow her. to take her In his arms and ask her forgiveness for hurting her, was strong. " 1 would not hide anything front you, Maurice, she said presently ir a very quiet voloe. But we havt •known each other such a very little while. I’m sure you have kepi .nothing from me, Maurioe, but I Brat I. . . ."

Oh. my darling," he cried and came towards her. She motioned Him back, her voloe trembling. “ I have been so unhappy. Ther« 2* ® Shadow, Maurice, but it Is not between you and me; it is the shadow |that has hung over my life since 1 ‘W»» a little thing in Paris. Some day perhaps, I may speak of it." ‘ Verne saw tears in her eyes Inwardly he called himself the mosi heartless fool that ever lived. Before ne could think of a word to reply Joy went on unsteadily. " I'm sorry you don’t trust me. Bui It Is not your fault. Can’t we forget this afternoon and just be friends ones more? Sec,” she added with an attempt to speak lightly, " our tee party Is quite spoiled.” She smiled forlornly. As she turned round all the love In Verne’s heart shone in his eyes. The little lavender figure seemed to sway asjie took a step towards her. “ Joy, dearest, I have wounded you. Don't look at m# b’ke thal ... I can't bear to see you cry. . . dearest. . . dearest." “ No, no," she said quickly, ** we mustn’t forget. . Her body swayed towards his outstretched arms. As he held her closely, her name soft on his lips, the door behind him opened quietly, suddenly, with no announcing knock, and he wheeled to find himself looking Into the eyes of Virginia Ware. * CHAPTER XX. A Nude Shock. There was a long moment of tension. Joy was first to recover herself. Verne, half blinded by the wave of passion that had swept over him and struggling with intense anger at the interruption, could not trust himself to speak. "I fear you did not hear my knock." began \ Irglnia. The landlady told me Mr Holland was alone and I took tha liberty of coming up to deliver a message from my aunt. I hardly expected to find Mia* Hartlngton here." Her voice was measured. She looked at Joy with disdain. “ p fay be sealed. Miss Ware." It «va» \ erne speaking. ’’ 1 fear the tea

(By Fenton Yorke)

Instalment 10.

ta cold but perhaps you M * ni make you a fresh cup.” The 107 politeness of his tone was not lost m Virginia. Her flaming Jealousy Drought a look of hatred and revenge Into her face. " No, thank you,” she replied, still iisdaining her rival. "Oh, please, Miss Ware, do not let ne spoil your call," put in Joy’s soft voice, in which there was now a note 5f pique. " I’m Just going. Good- , oye," she added, holding out her hand . to Verne. Her voice was cool and j even. She knew Virginia was watching her closely. "Let me oall a taxi for you, said Verne shortly and followed to the door. “You will excuse me, Miss WaTe?” •Neither could And words as they walked downstairs. A taxi drew In at Verne’s signal. Joy stepped in, still silent, and there were tears of distress and chagrin on her lashes as she turned to say good-bye. Verne’s face was the picture of misery. He seized her hand and held it tightly. "Till to-morrow at tea time," he whispered as the car moved. He watched It to the corner but Joy did not turn back. There had (been no answering pressure of her hand. Could it be that she was still Jealous of Virginia Ware? " I’m so sorry to have disturbed your tea party," said Virginia sweetly as he entered. “ I hope Miss Hartington didn’t hurry off on my aocount?" Maurice was lighting the spirit lamp under the kettle. “ I’m going to make you some tea,” he said, ignoring her question. " Thank you,” replied the girl, drawing off her gloves and settling herself in the leather chair. “ Miss Ilartington is looking better for her holiday," she added. " Yes." " I was rather surprised to come across her away down in Devon last Monday when I was taking my morning ride. And with such a* goodlooking man too. I’m afraid I watched their affectionate farewell rather too closely to -be polite when he was seeing her off at the station." The words went to Verne’s heart with a stabbing pain. All his old doubts again struggled for recognition. He tried to speak casually as he replied. "•Miss Hartington has many admiring friends, 1 dare say. Did you happen to know this one?" " but by reputation rather too well.” 1 " Not personally—l am thankful to say," replied Virginia with feeling. There was a hard note in her voloe as she added, “Anyone in Devon could tell you who and what Bertram Lang is!" CHAPTER XXI. j A Bitter Decision. Virginia had not stayed long after letting fly her poisonous shaft. The sight of Maurice Verne and Miss Ilartfngton together had called up all the worst of her nature. Her natural perception quickened by jealousy made it evident to her that Verne’s feeling for this unknown girl was no mere infatuation. Left alone while Verne was seeing the other girl into a taxi below she had watched him from the window and Jealousy flamed afresh as she saw Verne bend reverently over Joy Hartington’s hand. When Virginia Ware had gone Maurice had started a letter full of the most heartfelt declarations to the girl he had held to. his breast for one glorious moment. He could never forgive Virginia Ware, he felt, for making her entrance at the very moment when he was about to tell Joy how much he loved her and that she must be his wife. But to-morrow he would see her. Mere written words seemed suddenly inadequate. He tore up the letter. To-morrow he would talk to her,

would ask for a full explanation of everything—her visits to the country —this man Bertram Lang. Virginia Ware’s words came back to him, but remembering Joy’s face as for a moment she had put her soft arms around his neck, he put them from him. No, no, she loved no one but him I He was sure of that. There had been such a world of love in her eyes as she held up her Ups for his kiss . . and then Virginia had entered. But to-morrow he would have a full understanding with the girl he loved, a promise that she would be his wife. He was now more eager than ever to win fame for himself and Joy. Then he could tell her with an easy conscience of his change of name .... It was half past two the next day. At last the time had come to decide the fate of himself and the lady of his dreams. He had just finished lunch when Mrs Tubbs entered. "A telegram for you, sir." She stood waiting as Verne tore open the envelope. It seemed ages afterwards that the landlady’s voice reached him from' the distance. " Any answer, sir? The boy is waiting. " No, no answer," said Verne tonelessly. Left alone he sank into a chair Over and over again he read the -words’ of the telegram until they burnt themselves into his mind. It was such a simple little message. “ Called out of to*™. Come Friday arternoon instead. Joy.” Verne’s mind was distraught. This was no caprice, he told himself, only the sly deceit of some little adventuress, brought up Heaven knows how or where. The full significance of the mystery of Joy Hartington’s past flashed across his mind and added fuel to the dark thoughts that surged hrough his brain. He felt he wa* slowly going mad, so dolent had been the transition from the highest pinnacle of happiness to he depths of despair where, love lies lying, slain by the poison of suspicion rad jealousy. l<To ha continual