THE STORM CHILD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19328, 15 May 1926, Page 16 (Supplement)

THE STORM CHILD.

SHORT STORY.

BY ELIZABETH GUBNEY.

Dick Langton leisurely sipped his coffee and felt that life "was very good, and that there was no place like home. It was eighteen years now —gracious! how the time had flown !—since he had come into possession of Ridgcways through the death bv drowning of his second cousin, l 1 red Brand. Poor Fred had gone down with his wife and child on that wild night when the Anita was dashed to pieces oil the East Coast. They were returning from Norwav, whero they had been on a visit, to Mrs. Fred's relatives, and not a soul on the Anita had survived to tell the tale. Langton often thought regretfully of his cousin, of whom he had been really fond, but there was no doubt that Ridgcways had proved a groat consolation. Tie had grown In love the place, situated -us it. was in the heart of one of the prettiest shires in England, grown to love, his easy life, too, and the bachelor freedom which at the age of thirty-six ho had no intention of resigning. A pile of"letters lay on the breakfast table. Letters were, a bore. He glanced at the. envelopes half-heartedly.. Ha! —Ted Davidson's writing! "Davie" was his best friend, whom he loved closer than a brother. He tore open the envelope. " Dear old Dicky-bird"— Langton's long dark, somewhat, satnrnine visage crinkled np in to the srrvile that made it so extra-ordinarily--attractive—" here I am at the back of nowhere as usual seeking inspiration. This time, however, I've actually struck it—a strip of grey sea, green dunes merging into a sandy beach, an upland farmhouse or two with a few storm-tor-tured trees, and an odd sheep grazing around —alb this I'm trying to immortaliso with a view to next year's Academy, and am working like a blessed nigger. But the loveliest thing of all I've discovered is a girl, an exquisite creature of divine fairness, hair the colour, of ripe oats, eyes, that might have belonged to a Viking's daughter, the gait and dignity of a young goddess. And vet she s just a fisherman s daughter, and lives with her grandmother here in the cottage whero I've taken rooms. She happens to be better educated than the average of these villago girls, having kept house for an old clergyman, who made her free of his library and actually taught her French, so that she has a cultivated mind and, can talk on most subjects, although her life is spent in the most menial occupations. And now, old man, prepare for revelations. I've fallen hopelessly in love with this girl—Hetty Hales—and what's more,_ I mean to marry her if she'll have me. Inlike, you, I have no caste prejudice. Of course, you'll be horrified —cold, comfortable, cultured old bachelor that you are: but there it is, and —" Langton dropped the letter as though it had been a hot coal. Davie, his best friend, going to commit social suicide! It simply mustn't be. At all costs he (Langton) would prevent it. He pounced on a railway guide and discovered that Dunthorpe—the heading of Davidson's letter —could be reached in°three hours from King's Cross. Accordingly the afternoon of the following day found him pounding along the coast road that led from the station to the village, and appreciatively sniffing the salt freshness of the North .Sea. 'lhe early spring weather was fine. The place seemed restful and at the same time invigorating. A few days' holiday in Ted's congenial society would be good for them both, apart even from the service that lie _was rendering his friend in rescuing him iroin the clutches;of the village siren.^ He paused on the outskirts of the vil- j lage which consisted of a single street of somewhat irregularly built houses, with a shop or two. No one was immediately visible save a girl in an adjoining field, feeding a couple of sportive calves. Her back was toward hiin, but she made a charming picture as she bent over the eager young creatures, calling them by pet names in a laughing girlish voice. Suddenlv she turned and faced him, and he saw that her hair was " the colour of ripe oats," and her eyes " the eyes of a Viking's daughter," nor could the rough print "dress she wore conceal the lovely curves of the "splendid, vigorous young bodv. Surely this was none other than Ted's enchantress. " I am looking for a cottage belonging to people called Hales, where a friend of mine, Mr. D/ividson, an artist, is stopping. Perhaps vou could direct me to it 1" "This "is the cottage"—she pointed to a small, two-storied, pebble-dashed house a few yards back from the road—" and I am Hetty Hales." She paused, then the colour flooded her face as she added abruptly, " Mr. Davidson left this morning, sir." "Aha!" thought Langton. 'Wise boy! ho has. escaped, and I might have saved myself a journey. But she's a beauty and no mistake. And whero on earth have I seen someone like her?" " I suppose I could have Mr. Davidson's room for a day or two ? My things arr at. the station, but 1 could have them fetched," he said. The girl smilingly consented, and led hiin into the cottage, the old woman dropping him a curtesy as he passed. Everything was scrupulously clean and neat, and the meal she served him later—tea, omelettes, scones, with fragrant butter and home-made jam—would have done the gods. For the next few days Langton explored the neighbourhood, which he found full of interest and charm. In the evenings he read, or talked to Hetty Hales and her grandmother. The old lady he found somewhat taciturn. Neither in appearance nor disposition did she bear the remotest likeness to her grand-daughter. She had long fits of silence during which she would stare into the fire with fixed intensity. At other times her eyes would Hetty's every movement. Her manner of speech, too, was totally different from her granddaughter's, being an entirely north country dialect. Once Langton heard her mutter " la storm-child" "ta bonny stormchild," and came to the conclusion that she was rapidly sinking into dotage. She slept in a little room off the kitchen and suffered so terribly from asthma that there were times when Hetty had to sit up whole nights with her. The more lie saw of the girl the more ho admired her unselfishness, her patience, her industry. At times a sad,, rather puzzled look would come into her beautiful eyes, as though she were wistfully questioning Fate. Such moods he attributed to a Jove-sick longing for the absent Ted. He had noticed her confusion eveny time his friend's name was mentioned. To he sure, Davie had been quite right in fleeing from temptation, and yet he was hegining to feel an unaccountable resentment against him for doing the very thing of which he most approved. 3 Then came a letler from Davidson which entirely altered Langton's conception of things, and indeed gave him " furiously if think." The letter had been forwarded from Hidgeways. " Dear I)!<•!:,- —This is to (ell you that T am off to Jt/ily for a few weeks to the Maclciizie-Bniv.ns, and that letters will have to he forwarded, also that I proposed to Hetty Hales, and that sho rein sed me on the grounds of the inequality o, our social positions, nor could any arguments of mine induce, her to alter her decision.,—Yours disconsolately,' 'l ed." belief, amazement, incredulity jostled c:icli other in Langton's mind as he read his friend's letter. Vou would be very lonely if anything happened to your grandmother," he reniarkid, sympathetically, one' evening, when the old lady had taken a sudden turn for the worse. " Ves, sir. ' She—she's all I have in the world, and the doctor told me to-day that her heart was so bad she might go any time." A sob rose-in the girl's throat. \ ou look dead-beat , you know. Would you let- me. take turns with you at sitting up to-night ?" ' n To his surprise she gratefully consented and Langton, with a comical sense of the novelty of his position, installed himself by the old lady's bed. It was a wild stormy night, and lie could hear ihe boom of the waves on the shore and the moaning of the wind round the walls of the cottage. Toward midnight the invalid awoke from a kind of stunor and asked for Hoyly. bhe to ho down, and you must *gjcaV-ioo,' he- answered, soothingly but

c cor r right).

tile +;ld creature laid a skinny hand on his anil. I hain't a-goin' to got, hotter this time,? she ninrnnired, " I knaws it. 1 bo goin' to my old man. Hark ye, sir. 1 ntun toil ee. 1 liitin tell ec about Unity. 1 durstn't go wi'out- tellin' if. She hain't our child. She coom \vi' the storm. 1 alius meant- to tell her, but I was feared she would leave me, sir. You won't tell her till 1 he gone; hut she mini knaw, she mun knaw. She's a storm child, she hain't ourn. " Do ee see yon black box ?" she said, pointing toward the corner. " There's things in that box I mun show ee, sir." She tumbled under her pillow and produced a key. Langton, who saw that she was exiited, thought it. better to humour her, and brought the box to her bedside. It was a small, black chest about, a foot in dimensions. With shaking hand *ho managed to unlock it and drew out what looked like a, child's dress. She peered closely at it, then held it up to him. " Good heavens, woman he had snatched the dainty little garment from her ami was holding it closely to the lamp. His face was white, and his eyes were starlike a madman's, for embroidered on the hem of the dress was the name, "Norma Brand." the name of his cousin's infant daughter who was supposed fo have been drowned in the wreck of the Anita eighteen long years ago. " Tell me where you got this, tell me all about it." In a quavering voice interrupted bv much gasping and coughing the old woman told her story, while Langton bending over her with burning eyes and tense, drawn face hung on every word. Briefly it amounted to this—that " Hetty- Hales" was none other than Norma Brand, daughter of i red. Brand, of Ridgeways. On that wild night eighteen years ago when the Anita was wrecked some twenty miles north of Dunthorp, Tom Hales was one of the band of fishermen who tried to get near the doomed vessel. Their efforts, however, proved unavailing, but just as the Anita broke to pieces amid the despairing cries of the doomed victims, Hales noticed a sailor struggling in the water within a few yards of the shore. At the risk of his life he plunged into the seething flood, but the poor shipwrecked man was carried off by a wave just as Hales reached him. In Jiis arms, however, was a bundle, which he managed to fling at Hales before death sucked him away Tinbundle turned out to be a soaked and al-most-perishing baby-girl, whom the fisherman took home to his wife and mother. 1 he women received it with open arms, all the more eagerly because the Hales couple had lost their only child a few weeks previously. Inside five years Hales and his wife died, and little''" Hettv," as she was called, after the child who had been taken fiom them, was left in the care of her supposed grandmother. Mrs. Hales on the death of her son and daughter-in-law, moved to Dunthorp. where Hetty grew to womanhood totally ignorant 'of her strange history. As Langton listened to the old woman's quavering narrative, while the wind howled and the waves boomed, just as they had done on that fateful night long years ago, a vivid consciousness was borne in on him of the strangeness of human life and its destinies. Yes. it was "all clear enough—the likeness that had so baffled him was Hetty's resemblance to her mother, the beautiful Norwegian whom L'Ted Brand had married. Resides, on examining the little underclothes which the box also contained, he found that not only had the child's name been embroidered on them, but also the family crest of the Brands, a crest which he had grown very familiar with since he had gone to live at Ridgeways. Wild emotions surged within him,"as he realised what a difference the revelation would make to him. He, Dick Langton, was no longer the lawful owner of Ridgewavs. Tho estate and every penny belonging' to it was by right Norma Brand's. At the age of thirty-six he was practically a pauper. The irony of the situation struck him with added force as he recollected that that he had come to Dunthorp to destroy, if need be, Hetty's happiness, only to make a discovery that involved his own ■uin. He restored the baby-clothes carefully to the box, locked it and put the key in his pocket. Dawn was already breaking over a storm-tortured world when Hetty came to relieve his Vigil, and at the sight of her so lovely, so sad, Langton's heart tightened within him. He knew now what he had half-suspected already, that he loved her as his own soul, and tho knowledge was fraught with anguish as he realised hat he was now in honour bound to nake no sign. Just as Langton had guessed the old lady never recovered consciousness. When the doctor came he shook his head. BeFore she passed quietly away in Hetty's arms. It was not till they had re-atrtered the :ottage after the funeral, aud eho 'sat opposite him, a very young and pathetic figure in her simple black dress, her blue tear-washed eyes looking sadly out of her pale face, that Langton prepared to tell her the wonderful story. Can you bear to hear a very strange piece of news, Hetty?'' he said gei'itlv, going over to her and taking her hands in his. She. looked up at him startled, her lip quivering, tho colour flowing and ebbing in hei face. Suddenlv she bent her head and laid her lips against the hands that held hers. " Oh, sir, you've boen so good to me! What would I have done without vou ?" she exclaimed. For one wild moment he- was tempted t-o take her in his arms, to kiss her tears away, to comfort her as only a man can comfort the woman he loves; but for the last three days he had been steoling himself for tho ordeal, and he was able to rise triumphant over his baser self. The story took a long time in the tell ing, for at first Hetty absolutely refused to believe if; and it was only when ho produced the. box and showed her the little garments that she was at last convinced. " She never would lot that box bo opened," she murmured, as she stared in amazement at the beautifully wrought )aby clothes. " Don't you understand that we arc •ousins?" he said, smilingly. " Cousins ? Are we really ? Oh, I can't somehow take if all in." " Don't you see that I came into the isfato that should have been yours? That [ have been, quite unconsciously, living it your expense, so to speak, that everyliing [ thought I owned is really yours, md that you are a rich woman and can liarry Ted Davidson, the best, and finest el low in the world and livo at Jtidgevavs—'' She had risen and was looking at him trangoly, her face white and strained. " And you think I would turn you out if what has been your home?" she exla i mod. " But rny dear girl, you've got. fo (urn ne out, whether you like it or not. It's 'ours." " And you think that, I want to marry our friend Mr. Davidson?" She went on s though she had not heard his last' ,'ords. " Rut he loves you, and T believe you ive him. No woman could help loving )avie. And I haven't confessed to you el. what, a cad I've been. I came hero ith the object of doing rny best to preent, Ted marrying you. I didn't think ou good enough, but I know now that ou'd be good oriougb for tho noblest man i the world if you hadn't sixpence to our name." Scarlet, flooded the girl's cheeks as she noked at. him, her lips quivering, her eyes nil of the glorious shame of a love conessed. But—but if I told yon that I don't ovo him—that T never cared for him—in hat way—that I—I—" Suddenly she burst into wild sobs and lien he knew. " Hetty! Hetty! Norma!" he cried. His arms were round her; her tears voro on his cheek. Call mo_ Hetty always," she murmired, " I'll always be 'just Hetty to rou.