FORTUNE'S FOOL.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19321, 7 May 1926, Page 18

FORTUNE'S FOOL.

BY EFFIE ALELAIDE ROWLANDS

CHAPTER' XI. As David had only too clearly comprehended, he found his mother in a very prostrated condition when he reached the Grange. At sight of him she broke into tears, and incoherently told him something about Miss Milliard's departure. Evidently she was prepared for David to express his annoyance and to scold her in some way, and this hurt the young man. It was so strange to find his mother nervous of him, shrinking from him, almost fearing him. It, was all so different, from the condition of affairs which had existed between them before. He did all he could, on his part., to soothe her, and he was so gentle, so kind, so full of thought, that ho had the. satisfaction of feeling that to a large extent he had restored her to something like peace of mind. But he had no intention of allowing Neald to ride over I:is authority in this arrogant/ manner. And when lie had calmed his mother, he went downstairs and sought an interview with his stepfather. He saw that the man gave him a furlive look, as though he were just a little bit uncertain, and David went for him in r straightforward fashion. " I understand that you have taken npon yourself to dismiss the nurse whom I engaged to bo with my mother, what right have you done this ? Neald replied to this haughtily and rudely: ' , " The woman was very insolent ; sne gave herself great airs: she was a nuisance in the house; she objected to the food that was provided ! " " I am afraid I don't accept that explanation, Neald," David said veij quietly. "In the first place, L know too much about Miss Milliard. She was engaged by me, and I was the proper person to dismiss her! I want you to unrieistand that I am going to have another nurse for ray mother, and that you \\ ill not take upon yourself to interfere with any arrangement I may make. \ ou know," said the young man, working himself up even against tV.e direction of prudence, " there is a great deal going on here, Xeald, that has to be looked into If 1 have, so far, stood on one side, and permitted to carry on in some scheme of your own, please don t understand that I am going to maintain this attitude always. My one thought, ray only thought has always been my motner! I have found her" in such a nervous condition; so ill, so utterly changed, that I am compelled to study, her, however much this may cdst me! I have yet to know, David said very coldly, " by what evil means you have crept into her life. 1 think I had better warn you that this matter is gong to be taken up, not by me onlv, but by all those who oelong to my mother, and particularly l>v Sir George Greshani." Ronald Neald had turned round, and. standing* with his foot- on the. fender, his face was therefore hidden from David. Could the young man have seen it at that moment, he "would have- realised that, not only was there fury in the man's expression, but also fear. However, he put on a blustering manner; he was smoking his pipe., and lie turned round with his pipe in his mouth. "Go ahead, my dear sir: bring in all the family! .But you can't alter the fact that Millicent is my wife! And riot even a son is permitted to come between a hus band and wife!" " That is your theory," replied David quietly; and yet he was trembling all over "with the passion of his anger " "Well, we will see! What 1 want von to understand now is that I am through with my patience. I am not going to worry inV mother; I will fight it out with you." You have brought her here to this place where she is living like a pauper; I am going to have a thorough explanation of all this. You are denying her the comfort j.and the care which are absolutely necessary to her. You have made yourself master. of her money, and you have got to give an account of what you are doing with that money., Nov,- J know perfectly well what is in your mind," David added quickly. "It would be the sort of thing that would come into a vile mind lika yours. ' You are ready to state that I am speaking about the money because this might affect myself. Well, you are mistaken. I have no need for my mother's money. I earn for myself. But I am going to see that she is protected. 'ln fact, I am going to make a change, Nes.ld, where my mother is concerned. She must be taken away from here. You are already a scandal in this place. Just as much a scandal as your son is in London, going about squandering money which I am quite certain does not belong to him, and making himself a byword 'among decent people ' Ronald Neald threw aside the pipe, and going forward to the table, the two men faced one another. Neald was white as death, and he thumped the table as he spoke. " You leave my son's name out of this! You have nothing to do with him. although he has cut you out with the young woman you thought you were going to marry! " The vulgarity of the.other man, and the mere suggestion and mention of Dorina .Kenyon /brought David out of the whirlwind of/ justifiable anger, and steadied him. " I was wrong," he said. "Of course, your son is no concern of mine, but you are. And there is a great deal that has to be made clear to mo and that before we are many days older. I understand that you have refused to let the doctor of the village attend my mother. Well, that is not in keeping with my wishes. She must have a doctor close at hand. And the doctor shall supply her with a new nurse. Once again I warn' you, Neald. don't push me teo far. This business of your marriage, your treatment of my mother, your whole attitude is such a terrible business that I am making it my lift task to have it thoroughly explained and made clear, not only to myself, but to all t,hose who are so anxious and troubled about her." With that David turned on liis heel and walked avray, leaving the other man muttering inarticulate curses to himself, and sitting down eventually to scheme some way of outwitting David. For Ronald Neald had realised now that the time was approaching very quickly, and very quickly, too, when he would have to render some account of all the strange things that had happened to Millicent' Greshani since he had come into her life and forced her to marry him! Catherine Darley arrived at Copplethorn for the week-end, but she did not bring Mrs. Smythc with her. The squire met her at tho station and drove bet in the old-fashioned phaeton which, with ari equally old-fashioned brougham, were the only two conveyances left for the use of himself and his family. Catherine cuddled up beside her father, and, as she sniffed the cold fresh air, she. said : "Oh ! Paddy, it is so lovely to he here with you! T seem to have such a lot to say to you, I don't know where to begin." " You are not getting tired of London ?" inquired the squire. " You don't feel you want to come, back and settle down at Couplet horji Catherine laughed: "Not just yet, daddy dear," she said. " Perpaps I shall want (his, though, sooner than wo expect. 1 get terribly .homesick now and again—homesick for vou, dear old thing," and she rubbed her cheek against the squire's arm, " and for Aunt Monica!" It was not until she was hack at the .house, having been greeted most fondly by her aunt, arid had run round the place with' the dogs, that Catherine spoke of the Grange people.

(COPYRIGHT)

" Wei], daddy," she said, " have von soen your pretty Mrs. Noaid again?" The squire shook his head. No! Your aunt went there the other I]ay to call, but she was told that Mrs. Neald was too unwell to receive anyone: she was still in her room. But she saw young Gresham." '' And I lost my heart to him, Cathie, her aunt said. "'What a charming young man! Ai>! so good-looking, so devoted to his mother. I was lucky enough to be of some help to him. lie asked Dr. Wigan to find him a muse-companion for his mother. There was an extremely nice woman at the Cranio a little while ago, hut sho left suddenly one day, and Mr. Gresham seemed to bo very much upset about her going." "flo would be," said Catherine, quietly. " I keard from him that there was a very nice woman staving here, a Miss Milliard. And were 'you able to find someone, Aunt Monica ?" The old lady nodded her head. *' Yes, I remembered that Nurse Manning had written to mo saying that, she was disengaged. I got Dr. Wigan to telegraph to her, and she promised to come down in a few days. I do hope sho will help that poor Mrs. Neald to get stronger. Her son is so anxious about, her" " Yes, I know he is," Catherine said in the same quiet way. "Do you suppose I could go and call at the Grange this afternoon, Aunt Monica ?" "Why not?" inquired her aunt, " You know Mr. Gresham." " Oh, yes, I know David Gresham, the girl replied. " But from what I hear about Air. Neald, I am not particularly anxious to meet him! However, I think T will go. I shall chance it, anyhow!" So after luncheon, when she had established her father an his* den, and insisted on his having a nice Jtap, Catherine put 011 her coat, hat anu .Jurs, and walked through the village to the .Grange. She was admitted at once, for £?avid Gresham happened to bo in the hall w"Kqti she arrived, arid he came forward with, both hands outstretched. " How nice to see you!" he said. " I was hoping you might come down this week-end. " I have been preparing my mother for a visit from you.' The door b.ad been opened by a rather grim-looking female, who seemed to bo uncertain as to what was expected of her. And David spoke to her firmly but kindly: " I wonder, Ellen, if you could make some tea for us ? It would be so kind of you." Still with a little hesitation in her man- • ner, the woman made 110 remark, but tinned and went down a passage to the kitchen. " Come along," said David. " I will take you up to mother. She is in her room. She is a good deal better than when I came down the other night-, but she is still far from well. I don't think this place suits her. I know I ought not to abuse your beloved Copplethorn! But you see, she is so delicate, so fragile, as it were, and the air, though it is so fresh and invigorating for me, is, I am afraid, a little bleak for her." The moment she saw Mrs. Neald, Catherine told herself that she understood exactly the young man's anxiety. She thought she had never seen a more beautiful, sweeter, or more delicate creature than Millic.ent Neald. The mother was wearing one of the dainty robe gowns which belonged to her former happier life. She had a white fur about her shoulders. And though the room had been made much more comfortable with the heavy curtains, a screen, and had a fire, it still was too big, and had such a shabby look that the girl's heart contracted. " Mother, dear," David said, bringing Catherine forward, " this is Miss Darlev, whom I have told you so much about. She has come to make you a special visit.'' Mrs. Neald held out her very dedicate hand: and as Catherine clasped it, she winced. It seemed to her that this mother of David Gresham "s was too ethereal, too fragile to be even regarded as an ordinary human being. " Please sit down," Mrs. Neald said. " I am so glad to see you. David used to write to me about you; and now he talks of nothing but you and how .clever you are! It is very clever, my dear, to write such amusing and interesting I articles! " " I am not a bit clever really, Mrs. Neald," Catherine said hurriedly. " But ! I love my work; it is interesting: For i some reasons, I should like to be down I here and be with my father, whom I adore. But, on the other hand, I got so restless after the war and all that I did then, that I did not feel that I could ! turn my back on life, And Copplethorn is a very sleepy place, you know." " Is it? " inquired Millicent Neald, half whispering. " I don't know; I go out so seldom. But I expect it is quiet for a girl; just as I am quite convinced that it is very dull for my boy. But he won't i be driven away, however much I beg of him not to sacrifice himself so much." David was standing in front of the fire. It gave him a strange elusive sense of pleasure to see Catherine and his mother together. He semed to realise how eagerly the girl longed to be able to put some of ; her youth, strength and vigour into his ! mother's wasted body; and lie felt a thrill j of gratitude to Catherine because of this, j " What my mother does not understand, [ Miss Darlcy," said David, " is that there jis no question of sacrifice on my part. As I a matter of fact, I am doing what I hope is very pleasant work here. The quietness and the country air together are very helpful to me. I trust soon to be able to do my two or three miles' walk without feeling any effect on my leg. And then mother knows what a joy it is to me to be near her." At that moment there was a knock at the door, and the maid came in bearing a tray with a teapot 011 it, and one or two cups. It was an ordinary kitchen tray with no cloth. On a plate were two or three slices of thick bread and butter, and a large jug of boiling water. As she put it down, Ellen said in a depreciating way: "That there is the best I can do!" Before he could say anything, Mrs. Neald said: " It- is so good of you, Ellen. You know how I love an early cup of tea in the afternoon ! David, will you pour it out?" The young man came forward, took the tray away from the maid, put it 011 a small table And after pausing just a little while, Ellen turned on her heel and went away. As she disappeared Catherine said quickly: " I know that woman ! She lives in a village not far from here/ Have you had her long, Mrs. Neald ? " It was David who answered very quickly: " No, she came in just a few davs ago; I understood that there is great difficulty in getting servants round here. She is rather surly. I am surprised that she brought, even such a medley ?is this. I think I shall have to make it my business to go into the kitchen every now and then and see that things are kept in order." On tho impulse of the moment, Catherine spoke: " 1 do wish, Mrs. Neald, you could come and stay with us a little while. My dear i*unt Monica would be so glad to have someone to fuss about; sho is never so happy as when she is looking after someone who is not very strong. Do you think you could arrange that? " Mrs. Neald became at once rather agitated ; she flushed a hot colour, and move<J her delicate hands about nervously. Thank you very much, my dear, but 1 really cannot be such a burden tin your aunt. I am far too much of ati invalid. I am best in my own room." It went through Catherine's heart like a knife to see how bravely David was carrying off the difficulties of tho position, and she longed with all the ardour of her young spirit to be able to stand forward and help him. (To bo continued daily.)