THE LOST EARL -- OF ELLAN.

Otago Witness, Issue 2712, 7 March 1906, Page 68

THE LOST EARL - -- OF ELLAN.

cp. A STORY OF AUSTRALIAN LIFE. By JIBS CAVPBELL-PRAED. PART I. CHAPTER XII.— BRIA^ GOES A-WOOING.

U?3AN showed re p-vrlicuiar agitation at tb& sudden appearance of Cordeaux, and lie had no reason for. supposing that- partin.l, from him had caused her suffering. Yet it was impossible for him. to doubt tlwt since their last meeting she- had been going tlixomghva. phase of acute emoticai. He was shocked at tie change inI>ei-, thougL he naturally attributed, it to distress, about her. sister's illness an-d grief at the loss ot hew relatives in the wreck of the Quetta. So for tho first feiv rainutes of tlieir converfiation bs would not broach the painful subject. "I heard you were here," he said, "and that's why I have come. Of course, to ask after your sister as well. I hope .she's better." "Yes, thank you," Susan answered : and •he went on:

"You don't mind my breaking on your solitude? I saw you from the boat, so Listead' of going up to the house I thought I'd coone round and meet you. You weren't going back yet? May I sit down,, loo? Hfr did' not wait for her permission, but clambered to a jutting part of the little cliff close to the boulder mi which she again placed herself. His position raised him slightly above her. and lie had to bend forward to see inio her face. She had taken off her shady hat, for the cliff sheltered them from the sun, and eat quietly listening to him as he- iold Jicr of his recent doings. It seemed to him that she had grown much more sedate. There- had been about her before a certain subdued self consciousness which lie had liked, and which row seemed lacking. Had he been subtle enough to analyse the reason for Ms approval of this quality m her, lie would have understood that the selfconsciousness or a pretty woman is a compliment to the man with whom she is talkiug, for it shows that she is not indifferent to hi.s opinion. But Brian Corrieaux was far too simple .for any such subtleties of analysis. He could only wonder within himself whether it was anxiety about her sister alone that caused Susan to seem so melancholy and abstracted. He was struck by th© purity and paleness of her face, whilst the increased sharpness of its outlines and the violet shadows beneath her eyes gave her addted sweetness and beauty in. his sight. He was keenly troubled to- find her in such a. nervous and shaken condition, which he saw plainly from the. violent start she gave when some small insect settled for a moment ou her wrist.

"The beach would be the jolliest place in the world if it wasn't toi the mosquitoes and sandfiies," he remarked, keeping carefully to the commonplace. "Still, you seem to be pretty free from t.bcm here." "The wind has blown them away the last day or two," sbs answered. There Tras silence ; then ho exclaimed abruptly :

"Can't I do anything?''

And as oho turned to- him in surprise, .He added, ruefidly, "It makes me miserable to see you looking so wretched and worn out. Of course, I know what a rough time you've had. I've been so awfully sorry for you all. And seeing you like this makes me want to try and comfort vau — though I don't know how. But I cant even offer you the consolation of chocolate nougat — there isn't a branch from Gharbannels in Torres Strait. Do you remember how angry you used" to get when I chaffed you for being, like all Australian girls, fond of lollipops?" He laughed agitatedly, and sh* could not help laughing with him. He did not s>tir her heart in the least, but she thought what a good, kind brothei he would ha-ve made. If only Harry — the very thought was a stab.

"I'm. so thankful that your sister is better," lie went on. '"Sha really is quite out of danger now, I hop* 1 -?" '•The doctor, said so last time he saw her," Susan answered. "He seemed to think sha would get wall sooa row. He says that she must have extraordinary stamina to have lived through all those hours in the water."'

"By Jove, yes !" he exclaimel. '"There isn't a woman in a million could! have gone through what she did. I expect it's like a nightmare — the thought of xt." Susan shuddered.

"She was delirious, but the fever has gone now, though last night it returned a little — my stepmother's coming excited her." Susan spoke confusedly, and added, "But now she's quiet and sleeping peacefully."

"Tbat's good." A thought struck Briar, yn-.t he began impulsively, ''Do you know, Ive wondered several times if she could have been a girl some fellows vre picked up told me about. There were three of thtnx on a sort of raft, with a. do^ for steering gear " He stopped, seeing a look of apprehension had come on Susan's face, and that ehe shrank from the subject.

"I daresay it wasn't your sister at all,"' lie went on lamelj, "Sow I corns to rs-

member, it didn't sound as if the girl ooirld have been your sister." Susan drew a little breath of relief! "Why?" she blurted out. "Oh, -well, I don't fancy from the way they talked that she could have been exactly a lady. ... I expect- she was one of the second class or steerage people. Miss Galbraith, you've turred quite white. It's a shame of me to go raking up what must be. a nightmare to you, too." "Yes, it is,"' she answered frankly. "Don't talk about that awful time to Oora — or anybody. The doctor said we mustn't ; he wants ber to forget it, and so do we."

"I don't, wonder,"' replied Brian sympathetically : "and I'll steer clear of the subject, and not as>k any mor© awkward questions. But I expect when she gets over all this your sister won't be allowed to forget her feat of endurance- Why, she •might compete with those fellows who are always trying, to swim across the Channel, and I should think she would bent Ihe lot of tlem."

'•Oora has always been a splendid swimmtr Thi> blacks a'- Bunda taught her." said Sosan.

"And yon?"' "Oh, I used to be. awfully frightened of sharks. But O6"ra. was never frightened of anything — on land or water." "That's lucky for her, but I don't think X care r.bout women being as brave as all that," said Cordeaux. "If evei-yone of them was, there'd be nothing- for us men to do in looking after them." "Do you thmk that's all women are t»ox)d for — to be looked after?"' "No ; &ome of them are meant to be worshipped," he answered huskily, "but I like to do the looking after — when— l like the women. I never hankered after the heroines in private life. There, yon'ro starting and shaking again, and it isn't •even a sandfly this time," he added, tenderly. "Well, voii sse. I am not a heroine. "L shouldn't like you so much if you were. Don't ba angry with me for saying thai."

'Tm. not angry." -No. I almost wish you were. ion teem too tired and too apathetic to oe angi'v." "I" was saying something like that to Patsy this afternoon." "That you felt apathetic?" "Leaden — as if I couldn't feel."

"Perhaps that's b?ca.usG you've been leslinc too much," he hazarded. She nodded, and then the concern in his- face and seme freakish womanly impulse for which she could not account made her add, certainly not in an apathetic manner, "Oh, I've "been, co unhappy." He put out his hand, strong, squaretipped, capable — a true sailor's hand — znd laid it sympathetically on hers. But she winoe-rl so unmistakably that he withdrew his hand at once.

"I wish I knew wha.t it was you've been unhappy about. Your sister's illness, of 'course — but only that partly. She'll be alt .right soon, how that she's turned the^ corner. It's wonderful how quickly they! pick up -when. rib& corner's tamed- I'm afraid it's not only your sister." "Her silence was confirmation of his suspicions. "Is it somebody else?"" As she still kept silence he paled visibly under his tan, and his lips twitched in his anxiety. '1 wish you'd tell me," he whispered, urgently. 'T—lT — I can't." "But you can tell me this at least : Is it only since you've been up here that you've felt so unhappy?" "2f no," she faltered. £he looked towards him for an instant, and blushec under his 'eager, perplexed gaze. "Never mind, Mr Cordeaux. It's true that I've been unhappy, but I can't piissiblv tell you why. Please don't ask me " "I must ask you one question. I do beg you to answer" it. Is it because of any oth&r man?" Sho put cut her hand rcmonstrantly, and shook her head in a way that might have meant either a negative reply or a mere rebuke. He rhose th© first interpretation. " Then there is no other?" "Hush ! hush ! you mustn't question me. .You htfve no right," Susan cried. "That's true. But it isn't my fault. It's the fault of Fate. Don't punish mo for that. I wish to God I had the right." "Fate is responsible for a great many said Susan, trying to ignore the pas&ion m his tones. "Well, Fate^ — or the commodore of *he Australian naval station, or a rascally Portuguese half-breed who incited the* natives of Naraounea to kill some British subjects — whatever you like to call it, was to blame for mf not telling you six months ago that you were the one woman in the world for me, ' he said impetuously. "There pnow, Hiss Galbraith, it's out, and all my, vrudent resolutions with it."

"Oh, oh ! it's very wrong and foolish o£ you to act against your prudent resolutions," answered Susan, taking refuge- in banter. *

"I know it is. But r« man's resolutions will stand up against the- suggestion of another fellow. Ah, you won't take me seriously, but please^ — please, Miss Galbraith, you must. I'm a blunt 6ort of chap, and when. I begin to speak I generally find that I say too much, and. that th« safest thing would have b?en to &ay, nothing. Bub >at all events, I hope I'm straightforward. " ''Of course, you are. That's why I like you." "The only reason! Thanks. How, t waul you to be just as straightforward to me. If any other lucky devil has beea promoted over my head, I suppose I must frin and bear it; but for gpodness saSo on't tell me thai I've got to retire on. a small pension of sisterly sympathy." She. laughed. ,

"I observe, notwithstanding your extreme seriousness, you are still able 1*) tura it ioke-."' He made a rueful grimacf

"1 was "born so. Surely you wouldn't lave'me jpull-a stern, .and 1 -tragic face?" Susan laughed again softly. ."I •couldn't fancy you pulling a stern and tragic face." "Couldn't you? Well, you should have seen jne Tvhen -we had i>ur brash Tvith the joalives of IS aniounea. Bat, Miss Galbxaxth, I'm really as serions as ever I can foe. Won't you answer me frankly? Are you -engaged "te -be' married to any other man?" Susan locked out seaward, avoiding his his earnest eyes, while confused thoughts surged vaguely through her mind. jshe was so sore -and miserable thai she had a wild impulse -to tell him ihe truth. But if Jie sknew tlie truth Tie might not think so, highly of her, and Susan "had the feminine -weakness of Vishing to stand iroll with -every man, especially a -man who had ever admired hsr. Besides, she could scarcely explain the situation without betraying "Woi£e"s secrets, and^ in any case it waa iumiliatdng ."to' heaself. v How could she convey -to this English gentleman — evidently the pink -of propriety "honour in all relations of life^ — -that she had green her- 'teart to her father's stockman-; a sometime "tramp j ■& .psnniless -adveniturer ; a Vorse— Trio, -for all *he knew, might iave been 'arrested cSffcer leaving 3?arra.wan on a of inanslsaghter — -perhaps of murder. Besides fhat, Wolfe "held- never asked her to marry Mm, 'and it lial only been on pressure from her that "h© rhad picndsed to come back and to -let lasr know exactly ,how Aie stood. Even then there ■was no actual question of bond' between them. To be sure, he had 1»ld her that

she liad given iim back hjs ideal, and that he Teverenced her as a goddess ; but Susan had 'begun to fancy, that with a certain * type of man this is sometimes quite a different thing from desiring a woman as Ids wife. Wolfe might be -fchat type of man. In fact, Susan had a painful 'suspicion that she 'had let nerself love unsolicited. That was what she mmdcl most. That was what she could not tell Brian Cordeaux. 'So -at last she asewered deliberately, but with a iaimt tinge of bitterness in ■ber lone. "No, I'm i»i -engaged to be -married." She could not ielp seeing from the sudden relaxation of his 'features and the relief in his .eyes how sharp his suspense had been. | "Ah? then "there's hope for mo." he j cried. "I -am ra>t a bit afraid of phi lan- j d«rers. You -are not the eotl of girl U> , go in for lmlf-and-haTf love affairs. Every- . thing TTonld -have to be on strict lines foi you. Yjou wouldn't let yourself down to anything .else. There's too much -dignity about yßn." - - Susan turned -scarlet. She was ashamed, yet glad that she said nothing about 1 Wolfe. ;""But. of" course, thai makes no difference," ;6he 'faltenaL >" Jl-os, it dees. lio 'me — all the difference. Tt 'decides me to spsak out. "I -thought 1 wouldn't, imt -I "feel now that I must. Of course, you saw in Sydney- that I was in love wifli you." "No, .no ; dionlt say that."' "It's true, and there's no good in pretending you 'didn't know it. Well, I ■ohimght a lot ab©ut the justifiability of pro- | posing -to you. Trot Pm pretty sure I should j I .aye made a fool of myself if fate hadn't stepped in and carried you off to Mossvak. that week, a.ut) me and my sliip to Nam&unea. fet-ill, I'd fairly well -decided t&at -I -was&'t in a position to warrant my asking a girl like you to marry me, seeing that I "was only — " J "Oh, yes, I Iroow," she ijiterrup'ted with a nervous little laugh. "You laid m? — ] I ilimk almost the first time we met — that I

yon w«re only the younger .son of a 'younger eon; and liad mertkter money nai' expectations. 1 remember your morels. I saw that you -wanted T&e to understand from ±b.e outset that you weren't the tind of wefl-~born Englishman for an Australian girl feo " She stumbled, and laughed again. He -reddened uncomfortably. •"To wast* -powder and shot on. You neednlt be cruel, .Miss -Galbra-ith- What a'i>ea£tly cad. you must nave taken ane for. T .don't" ln»w Jhow such an idea could have, got into your head — in connection •witih yourself. As if you w-ere the type of Australian girl tv'lio " "Y-es—^who?" She Hked turning the tables on him. and found keen feminine pleasure in liis confusion. . "Oh, well, there were some girls in Melbourne and Sydney — I hate saying* disrespectful things iibaut ladies — but these weren't ladies. You tom« across the sort in -every .garrison town ail oveT tibe world. Ekre I've 'heard buslnnen call them '3uinpsd-up .ones.' They .sewn to consider thai st, coaamisskm in laer Majesty's navy

■is a idnd of patent of nobilitj-, and their one cnance of making a good match. If they only knew what poor penniless devils •we 'mostly are!" His tan face crinkled up all over with involuntary amusement ; but he soon 6obe>isd -down again. "I assure you -if you'd been in my shoes you'd diave seen the necessity of defences — m some cases, at least. But tell me— yon didn't feel sore over that unlucky speech of mine, did jou? You didn't go on thinking me a bounder?'' •'Of course not. But you must own that it was quite natural that I .should resent the imputation." "And you thought you'd 1 give me a Jesson — iiu'ongh I didn't* really dtserve it. So you were kind enough to let me dance with, you, and hang about with you at those picnics we went to a-t Ceogee and Manly Beach, and the other places. I used to go <jver it allj and recall the nice €Mngs you'd said to me, and -worry myself ocnfcundedb/ the times I to* B oil TCateh — kn& "I can tell you the Pacific in a middle ,V,-atch is the' kind of place where a fellow ieels more lonely and sentimental than ever he did in his life before. He thinks ■~d bis mother and of the girl he left bahiud him, and of the stars and of poetiy in a way that perhaps would surprise landsmen. Well* at last I couldn't stand it-

any longer, and bo I wrote you that letter, which I sent ashore to Thursday Island on our w_ay to Namounea, asking if I could come and see you." "And now you have seen me — and Mr Cordeaux — you mustn't say anything more," she -rejoined., gravely. "Must; I not?"' lie looked very disappointed. "Not anything of that kind, pfc.ase."

Cordeaiix drew back against the rock, puzzled and doubtful, but by no means quenched. Ciearly, a, little storm of impulses was going on in him. He had the underlying consciousness that it might be best to bold in his speech ; but once launched, that, to a man of his nature, was difficult. Pxesentiv he said :

"You mow that- I wouldn't for the world do anything you didnVlike. But I wantTouto understand "

'Indeed, you must set," she replied. "It's tm> use; I do understand."

"JTo, I think not quite I was just considering .whether I ought to speak about something which had lately happened. Yon're sure to hear about it, if you liaven't ateead'y. 'It's tibout-my own circumstances. There's a good chance of my being, in a different position — in a worldly sense. Perhaps you saw in the papers that my Uncle Elian and his son — Ms- only son — were, .killed in a railway smash . in the States a little -while ago. I -saw it in the English telegrams the day alter the Quetta business. 1" haven't had my letters yet, bnt, of course, it's •true — and — -it may make a great difference to me." Susan did not seem at the moment to grasp the practical significance of his words, perhaps because of late her mind had been running «a much on death and sudden catastrophe that eh© could not realise death and catastrophe as possibly bringing good fortune to anybody. "I don't lmow,"' she said, ''we haven't been- getting the papers over here. The Aisbsts don't s^em to care about English bows. I am eorry,"' she added, "if you have -been in trouble like ours."

"It isn't that — personally speaking — though, of course, it's a terrible thing the two of them being taken off all at once like that — just sitting still in a railway carriage. There's my cousin Linne, poor chap, Tvith all his life before him, and everything a "man could want to make iuni happy, and here am I — who might so easily Tiave ".got a .poisoned arrow into me-— like Goolenough-the commodore, you know — I never was grazed. It's Linne I feel sorry about. The old lord was raiher a terror in bis way. Still, you see. Miss Galbraith, if it was a question with you -of being Countess of Elian, wouldn't if .make some difference?'

"Oh., I see." Susa,n exclaimed, and stopped -short, arrested by the magic of hi& words. Tv be a countess! That, indeed, would make a difference. Yet, oh.'! If it were only Wolfe who might be the Earl <rf Elian, ~.and ;she his countess ! The thought thrilled Susan j but that -was rmpossible. Wolfe had nothing to do with, this man or his family, Wolfe, in spite of his calm assumption that Jie was as ■well 'born as she, -could J have tk> -connection with the bluer blood -of England — not -even such -as Susan migM claim through her ancestress, Lady Susan Galbraith. The modern Susan lieaveS an involuntary sighShe would have b&en such a -worthy count&ss i Gracious, noble in all her thoughts and -deeds. None should have -passed her by urheeding. All the world should have seen that the busbman's daughter — born in thte shadows of the gums an£ leaa-ed in Sydney — was fit t» mate with any long line of pe*rs. But the chance was not for her. And Susan, felt like a peevish child from whom the attractive toy is snatched befcrre it can be -handled. She could -have wepfc with chagrin for me ■moment, but, to her credit, be it said, that she did not falter in her allegiance to Wolfe. The woinnn who "had given herself m heart "to .such as he could not, she thought, accept as a substitute tho wide-ly different personality of this more jirosaiG iover. Sailors .are proverbially romantic at heari, feut, it anust be confessed, almiost proverbially "unromantic in ippearance. And Susan loved the long, lean lines of James Wolfe's frame, his dark, 'melancholy face, his rare, sweet "words— -.even the chill silence of his res^ernre. N~ow, there Tr-as nothing •■melancholy .about Brian Cordeaux. Try as he would to oomport -himself as a -propea-ly tentative lover should -wdiiie .swinging yet ureai t he 'bridge of 'his lady's caprice — tee-min.<r, %« "was, with ttnxious "tediderness — the fun and jollity of his nature were far too -near the surface to suit Susan's jhooJ. and the delightful assurance oi the British .sailor, which has carried hds kind through so many ■engagements, both in sentiment and on ?£a, was just the sort of tiling t-o make Susan — in nautical phrase — take in sail and «lip out of range of her would-be .conqueror's guns.

Yet Brian Cordeaux could -scarcely have been considered presumptous. for, as 'Susan knew well, she liad liked him from the first, and liad taken no pains to conceal her liking. In fact, she had shown it inrlubitaoiy at Sydney, trading somewhat on his manifest -fesling lor her, as popular girls will. But then he danced divinely, like most sailors, and there was a delicious ardour in the boyish frankness of his eyes, while liis wit to turn a compliment and breaths it in her ear, if not so subtle and r-efmed as Wolfe's, oould beat that of most feushmen. In truth, Brian Cordeaux was as ready at the task of wooing as were bis nimble feet and fingers on a plank or vope: Yet- Susan looked a little disdainfully «it him now. She preferred tall, slinifingered .men, and Brian's fingers — tremb lingly -stroking a bit of black ribbon which fell from her gown — weav short, squaro lilt, and bade fair to be knotty. His arms were short, teo, and his Itead, as they had danoed together, she remembered was no higher "than .-her own. She thought of Wolfe's enwrapping arms as he had supported her on their homeward journey through the bush after her accident, and felt that sh"e could never bear those of any other man to her. But aneaaiwhile Brian was awaiting her reply, curbnig his impatience manfully, Iwt -with the

story of nis soul written plainly on his ruddy face— his look of straight simplicity, the one with -which he would have faced his Maker, if need be ; the clean cut lips, which only stiffened at the call of duty, parted now in a smile of such imploring devotion that Snsan, "though -she would lucre shrunk at his caress, had a sudden maternal impulse to tak-* his dark lead in her hands- and kiss the broad, tanned brow. She smiled un answer, as much at herself as at tim.

"On, you mustn't think that that would make any difference to me. How could you think so?" she murmured gently, the blood rushing to her face as she reflected on all the •difference it actually made "'lt seemed to me that if I allowed such a consideration to weigh with me, I should be just like the dreadful sort of Australian girls that you despise. But, of course, it wouldn't." And Susan heaved a second unconscious sihli.

"2^o, no, you couldn't be," he cried. "Oh, forgive me for saying what I did about them, liet's forget it. Can't you see that, I never classed you with that kind of girl? And cant you see the difference "that all this "makes to me ? If it were my luck to inherit my uncle's title and estate, 1 should f-eel that I had something worth having to offer you. He wasn't a rich man, but we oould chuck the servioe, r fjad we'd live where you liked — divide our time between Elian ",and Australia, if you . chose. But perhaps I had no business to suggest this possibility. You're, only made me love and honour you all the more by saying that it 'wouldn't weigh with you. I should know then if you took me that_ it would only be for my own sake. But "I must find out first whether the man who has a senior right to the succession i= alive or dead. ' >. Susan's blush died down, and she asked, interestedly : "There's another heir, then?" "If he's alive. A cousin older than -I am, -nho got into a mess in England, and had to clear cut, and has never been heard oi sinee — except once, it seems — and that was out her somewhere m New South V^ales. Do you know a place called Casino?" "I iMnk it's a little township right away 'South. 1 ' t "Well, that's where he was last 'Seer. — in '85. Four years isn't a long time, t! ough, and I don't know why I should have settled it in my mind that my Tjohsin Jem is dead. . . . Well, yes I do." Brian's innate candour forced him to like confession. "The fact is, I did hear something thai makes me pretty sure he is dead. But the man who told me looked such an out-and-out villain — of the worst c Thursday Island type, and -that's saying a good -deal — that to -tell the honest truth I'm rather ashamed of having the smallest truck with him. However, j^rhaps that's a point in favour of ±h© genuineness, of the information, for 1 should .suppose that . Jr.nies Cordeaux was rather the sort to ■ take us with :disreputable characters, and; it appears that 'up north ' at least one ■mustn't let ones-eilf be hampered by 'moral . (prejudices. Anyhow, there was nothing to s>e done but to let the chap bring his 'proof if he had. it, and when he does, I shall know better where I am. Meanwhile, I shall not say another word about my chances. I'm so abominably impulsive nhat I must always blurt out a thing., and then I'm generally sorry afterwards. Don't you think ,the worst of me or jump to the idea that I'm coimpassing a -man's death in my thoughts, for I assure you that I've no murderous design's. I intend now to put the matter entirely out of my mmd — that is. as far as talking about it goes. And as things are, perhaps it's better that! I shouldn't go bothering you to many me. 8© I won't."'

"That's right,"' and Susan nodded sadly, with another small sigh for the lost, if problematical, joys of Elian. "We'll wait and sac what turns up,'" he interposed hastily. "But for the present let me be your friend — just as I was before. May I?"

"By all means, if you like," she answered rather ooHly. She got up from her seati as she spoke, and put on bier hat-, a little bitter smile curving her lips at - the -easy adaptability to rircuaistanees which her &wn nature found impossible to comprehend, but which is part of the inmost being of the true British sailor. She would have preferred him to be a trifle tragic. It would liove seemed more natural, and was quite to be expected. She *had been feeling so horribly tragic herself about Wolfe before this strange apathy stole upon her. But that was partly because she could not express her feelings — women were bo tied. 3Tov, , here was a man given opportunity foi showing deep feeling if he felt any, yet all he said was that h,e had beiVer not talk about it. And something whispered to

Susan that be surely d;id feel deeply. Of couTse, she liacl told him lie mustn't ; cut then he ne&d not liave submitted so meekly. She never knew how pluckiy ke had put himself and his desires on one side. "He was watching her, wondering what slie was thinking about. '"Jolly mp in tie air, isn"t there?"' he said as *he ro.se to her feet.

" Yes, it's getting chilly," she answered. "Do you see how late it is? I must be going back to the hou&eV' „ Brian rose too, and looked out over -the sea, which wa.s coloui'ed by the reflection uf the setting &un. "I'm going to throw mvseli on your mercy," he said. "Surely, you wouldn't have the heart to send me away in the dark?" "Of course not," ehe answered, indifferently. Come up and see Patsy." "Just what Fm yearaing to do. Patsy . What a delightful name, to be sure. Your step-mother, don't you mean? Will she be as kind -its you, I wonder? For you are kind, Miss Gralbraith. And 1 .hope you'll be ever so much tinder. The fact is, I've been manoeuvring for an invitation to stay over here, and it was a bitter blow to me when we sighted Aisb&t's yacht making for Thursday Island, for I was afraid you might be on your way 1o the steamer. I found out, however, that it was your father he was taking across, and

that Aisbet and Mrs Aisbet were going pearling. So I hailed the yacht and went aboard. Your father was kind enough to say that you and Mrs Galbraith wouldn't be altogether displeased to see me — he thought I could cheer you up a bit. Ai&bet told me he'd lent you the h'duSe, but that his overseer would put me up if T liked to stay and do some pig-sticking. There's a lot of ■wild pig about here, isn't there?" A " I believe si>," said Susan demurely. Her quiet acceptance of the proposition nettled Brian. "Of course, I don't care a hang about the pigs," he said grumblingly. "I don't want to stick 'cm — why should I? — poor, innocent things ! I want to stay with you, but I'm not sure whether I ought to a&k it."' "It se<ems to me you have asked it, Mr Ooi-deaux,'' laughed Susan, forced into good humour. " Faith, an' haven't ye a dhro-p of Oinsh blood in. yer veins?" she added, caricaturing Patsy's brogue. "I don't know what you m<ean,'' and he stalked along over thte beach beside her, his blunt, tipped,- yet rather aggressive nose held-up in the air, but a joyous gleam in his eye. "Ah. you would if you knew Patsy. She's very downright,- but she has a wheedling -way with her — something like yours. It belongs to the race." "Does it, indeed! Well, I'm partly Scotch, ©1 comae, but would r,h'at I could claim common descent with Patsy. If she hails from the north J east of Ireland, it's not unlikely, for we .know that the same roots and branches that bloom in tliat paTfc of the bog land have close kinship with the land of heather and cakes."

"Dear Patsy! She vras transplanted 'laaig syn&>' " said Susan ; " but she has the kindest heart xn the world. And she wouldn't be happy, Mr Gordeaux, if we didn't take you in-^o you'd better come to us."

"And you?'' he said hastily. "Wouldn't you be happy? But I suppose I mustn't ask. * Give me the chance of coming — that's all."

They were nearly at the house now. The dusk 'had fallen "quickly, and groups of shadows flitted sombrely from point to point along the land, pausing to settle flown here and there. A pale stretch of <jrey, striped at one place with rose, showed where the waters of the Pass lay behind them, fringed by the uneven shore. The little headland to their left stood up in jagged points against the sky. The tops of "the coco palms were being lifted lazily by -a -saucy young breeze which Jiad come to play -games <with the shadows. It darted in a venturous ,gttst upon Susan, laying some ,sharr> kisses on her averted cheeks, and stinging "them into warmth. It brought with it a wlriff from 'the salt sea, and as it passed Brian, -the breeze tossed to Susan an overpowering sseuse of tlwrfc young man's personality, ■with, which at seemed in seme queer way akin. • "Never ibflfoxe had sh« "been r»a' "keenly conscious of his presence — fresh, virile, .sweet-smell-ing, with a just perceptible odour of fofcacoo — a strongly determinate presence. •His light firm tread made -easy work of the heavy sand, and the boulders over which Susan tumbled. He Irept on the outer edsre of -the half-formed track across tho point, Taut pressed her uncomfortably near, «he thought, to the rough paling which went round the house. Once, when their baro hands touched, Susan shrank aside., and he instantly fell back. But she wondered whether .she were wise -to let him ooiue and take up Ins abode at Acoborra, even for a short lime. It migM not always be possible to keep him -at a convenient distance if lie were staying in tho same house. On the other handj he might serve to divert tho thoughts of all three of them — Patey. Oora, and herself — from troubling ovei * conditions -which could not at present be altered. Oora. Susan felt mire, liad her own secret, which must "be painful, while Patsy was obviously worried over the family troubles, and Susan's owji heart wa^ one big ache for her brother and for "Wolfe. She could not forget either of them for an instant, but there was no use in talking about Harry — at all ■•vents until something more could be ascertained concerning liim. And Wolfe .had become abnost as bitter .a memory. Tie less said about him the better -until he gave some/ sign of returning to them. Susan thought that she would try to give Patsy a hint about that if she could do it without arousing Patsy's suspicions in any way. Lucidly, il Mr Cordeaux was tkere, and Oora was able to .get about a little, as -she might now be expected to do. Wolfe'-s name was much less likely to be mentioned, for Patsy would have something eke to think of, and Oora, ol aourse, knew nothing oi him. Yes. Susan thought that Brian Cardeaux's coming to Acobarra was distinctly an advantage.

The pair .stoppad simultaneously near the entrance to the house. "What about youi rliings?" said Susan. "Mr Meiklejolm. the overseer might lend you what you'll want for to-night. 1 suppose you ye l'othing of Tom own liere?" '" Oh, yes. I have !*' laughed Brian, entirely iin-embarrassed. "I've been in the bush, you see, and I've learned something :>bout bush ways and .bush hospitality.' My traps are in the -boat. J 'thought I'd better bring them on the off chance of your keeping me. I got a "fishing chap at Thursday Island to bring mo over beTe, .md he's probably waitinc i'- 1 ' ' the

" Then I should send him back again." fcaid Susan. "There are plenty of boats hei'e and 'kanakas and people who -can take you back to Thursday Island when you want to go." "I shan't want to go, if it's left to me : but unfortunately my skipper ixas ? voice in the matter. The linntstions of 'leave in his Majtsty's navy are a dnspwat" consideration, you know . Mino uiU »" up before long, and then I •-luill have to if join bit ship if the's- iv from Poit Mort&by. The skipper promised me an extension, but that was. only it I hud to go do^li to RvcLney or to do anything about this lost Kiirl of Elian business. However, I'm zouig to let that drop for the time. I

shall leave it to -the lawyers and to Fate Jim Gordeaux will turn up if he's alivij quite as soon' as I 'want' to see him — and' if he's< dead, well, I shall get the news. As I told you, Miss Galbraith, I've discovered there are ghouls in Australia only . too ready to earn a reward by ferretting out even the most gruesome information. By Jove, though, it will have to be well authenticated befoi'e that reward is paid. But I'm not going to think about that. I say. you're sure your -sister won't mind my ooming about the place." " Scarcely," said Susan. "You probably, won't see much of her at first, but wJien you do I shouldn't wonder if she makes great Mends with you. She's just the kind of girl." "I mean to make friends with herr" said B?ian heartily. "You dpn't know what a fascinating fellow I can be -when I put, my mind to it. I warn you that I'm going to ingratiate myself with' Mrs .Galbrfith and Miss Oora.''

"You won't find it difficult," said Susan, with a touch of cynicism which he was far tco simple -to detect. "I'll tell somebody io bring up your bag," she added, as* she went on to the house, while he ran with a; light heart back -to the beach.

(To be continued.)