Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 547, 27 December 1928, Page 5

Island’s Thorne

BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

CHAPTER II (Continued) Hugh Ormandy rode slowly down the winding drive of the park, of Island’s Thorne toward the little village o£ Thornes, nestling at the foot of a grim, craggy mountain. His face was gloomy and troubled, for the news of the coming of his cousin’s son had greatly disturbed him. He rode through the winding street, and past the scattered houses which composed the village, and on along a narrow road between tall larch woods till he reached a gate, which he unhasped, with Us wnip and went through. A rough, deeply rutted cart track led him up the slope of a mountain, on the shoulder of which, in a sheltered hollow of the fell side, stood a small, whitewashed farmstead. Round the buildings were orchards, where hardy hamscu and apple trees yearly bore a heavy crop of fruit, and in a sunny corner, against an ancient wall of -chen covered granite, stood a row of beehives, about which the busy workers were flying. Through a gap a the line of the hill rampart showed L?hite Btretehing upland moor, and .shind this rose the sharply cut out--ue of more mountains. Hugh drew rein, and sat for a foment drinking in the beauty of the , cene before dismounting, then tied hors® to the post of a wicket gate fading into the old-fashioned garden, r Q a PProached the front door of the - J uae. As he was making his way un<i a girl came from an outbuildnm t °u a bri Sht smile of wel- ' _ lighting up her comely face. Katherine Drury was 28 years old, self-reliant and very capable, Q the clear skin that denoted per- • Health; her blue-grey eyes were cair * an< * and her red-brow n low f Wav i fl masses above her wide, orehead. Her dress was simple *ad „l erviceal) le, of heliotrope linen. Mi e n? re a lar S e holland overall: a»A »k w as a farmer, and manvldch Small farm of Parkhead, from jaJ® a d bought four years ago but jn Thorne not only nominally, training real,ty * Sh e had had good she kno a sound education, and !arm a w aer w ork and conducted her well as any man in the dis-

trict. A man and his wife and a sturdy boy comprised the assistant staff for all such work as the making of the cheese and butter, and looking after the bees and poultry, the young mistress did herself. Ker stock consisted of half a dozen cows, some piga, geese, turkeys, ducks and poultry of various sorts, so that her life was a full and very busy one. As she came forward now she*noted the expression on Hugh’s face, and anxiety showed in her keen eyes. "What is the matter, Hugh?” she asked, as he followed her slowly into the -house. “Uncle John has discovered that Sydney had a son. and he has sent for him,” he answered heavily. “He comes the day after to-morrow. I am told off to take Mrs. Fraser's rooms for him. Oh, Kit, I should like to know what is the meaning of this new idea. I thought all that had to do with Sydney was dead and gone for ever. Sydney is dead, but there is this young man, and he may make all the difference in the world to us, my dear.” I expect he will,” she said steadily, though her face had become very grave. “But, Hugh, dear, surely it is right? I do not know all the details of the story, of course, but I do think that a great wrong must have been done to Sydney Thorne. If this means that an attempt is to be made to, at any rate, make a just settlement after all these years, why. dear, we must face it bravely, though I know what it will mean to you.” “Island’s Thorne means everything to me,” said Hugh, sombrely. I have given it of all that is in me; it gripped me from the first moment of my coming to it, and now I love it with all my heart and soul. I love the great pm house, the lake, the moor, and fhe mountains. And now this outsider is coming, and God knows Uncle John may not do; he is capable of anything, and it is more than likely, ?/ .his youth takes his fancy, that he Will thrust me aside like a worn-out will thru a r g . ven tQ considering oih£ people and what they have dona btttiAo (Slut that someone els. ma» take my P’ ap ®’ WO rry till you have “Try a pd „ n f he t 0 Joke firmly. “It is seen tropble halfway, is n °, Thorne may merely wish to It.T Mr. tnoru cannot in Soe l on justice overlook all that you common Jus” b n to him." ha Hush “now sat silently in a corner

of the Chesterfield, a limp, weary figure from which all the spirit seemed to have fled, and the tall woman leaning against the mantelpiece watched him with anxious eyes. There was affection in her 100k —that of a mother for a child in trouble. For a while there was silence in the room, which neither seemed to wish to break. Outside a sheep dog. yapped sharply, and the voice of Harold, the farm boy, roughly bade him "whist, ye fule!” To the man huddled in his corner the sunshine shining in so brightly through the window seemed a mockery, making game of his bitterness of heart. The hum of the working bees, as they flitted about the blossoms of a big pear tree growing up the side of the house, drifted in to him, and a soft wind stirred among the branches of the fruit trees of the orchard, otherwise all was very quiet and still. At last the silent, brooding man raised his head.

“I must go,” he said. “I have to see about those rooms at Mrs. Fraser’s for this fellow. Confound him! Oh, Kit! I hate his coming! 1 have a feeling that it bodes ill for me.” Katherine’s strong face hardened, and there was a flicker of something like contempt in her clear eyes as they rested on him. “Hugh,” she said, speaking rather sharply, “you are behaving foolishly Why do you so persistently look on the dark side of this thing? Till young Thorne is actually here it is quite impossible to judge at all how Mr Thorne means to act. Face things like a man, not like a rather foolish woman. The kind of apprehension that you are giving way to does no good; it simply unhinges and unnerves you. and it worries me.” Hugh rose wearily to his feet and heaved a deep sigh. “I expect you are right. Kit, you generally are,” he said despondently. “I shall be all right when I have got used to the shock of it. You are much more plucky than I am, you know, dear; you should have been the man and I the woman. I have thought so many times. I really must be off, or I shall be late for lunch, which Uncle John dislikes, and I shall have to mind my P’s and Q’s now. Good-bye. I will come up as soon as I can tell you how things are going. I dare not come as often as I should like; I am so afraid of some one carrying tales to uncle: he is very suspicious.” “It is better to be careful, she agreed, as they walked togethei to the gate where his horse waited patiently. “For the present, especially in the face of wftat has happened, we must run no risks. Good-bye, dear.” She stood by the gate watching him as he rode down the rough road, then as he disappeared round a bend she returned with a sigh and resumed her interrupted work. “Poor Hugh!” she murmured softly as she made the golden grains of but-

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ter from the churn Into pats with firm, deft hands. “Oh, my poor Hugh! What a lot he still has to learn.”

CHAPTER 111. —SYDNEY THORNE. The office of Messrs. Simeon Levi's wholesale clothing warehouse, in Little Mitre Street, E.C., though not a palace of beauty, was yet better planned than many of its kind. The dozen or so lady typists and correspondence clerks spent their working day set apart from the male members of the staff in a large room under the matchful eye of a superintendent, a middle-aged lady of acid appearance, who exacted the last ounce of work out of the white-faced girls under her supervision. The room was lighted with electricity, for it was so situated that sufficient daylight did not penetrate the gloomy buildings surrounding it to permit of working by natural light; from morning till evening the electric bulbs were blazing away, and the intent workers were

hardly conscious whether it was wet or fine.

Simeon Levi paid fair wages, but he saw to it that he got full return for every penny expended, and he harboured no incompetents on his staff, male or female. If they made mistakes or failed to attain a certain output they had to go; that was the rule, and it was strictly adhered to. He and Miss Jowles, the slave-driver, were hard task-masters, and never relented or permitted such a thing as a second chance. That was not their way, and all who worked for them knew it from the start.

One day in May, 19 , a girl sat at one of the typewriters with an aching head and a heavy heart. She was fully conscious that during the last few days her work had not been up to standard, and she lived in hourly dread of being called up and told so. Her mother, with whom she lived, was ailing, and had had a bad turn, the mother for whom she toiled early and late that she might provide her with roof and food. Her mother was a widow, life had been a hard struggle, and now illness had come and prohibited her from taking any share in providing for their livelihood, the full burden of which rested on the shoulders of the girl. The girl herself, though very plainly dressed, had an aspect somewhat different from the other more commonplace, far smarter, damsels among whom she worked, and with whom it can hardly be said she was popular. Sydney Thorne, though always polite, was never friendly; as they put it, “She kept herself to herself, and was as close as an oyster.” She was tall and slight, with a highbred face, a clear, white skin, the cheeks almost colourless, the big, dark eyes were intelligent, though their expression was somewhat sad, and at the moment they looked too large for the face, and fine, abundant, dark hair waving and curling round her head. The girl started nervously as the telephone bell rang out suddenly, and Miss Jowles raised the receiver from her table to her ear. “Miss Thorne,” snapped the superintendent (it was commonly joked about among the girls that she always barked when she did not bite), “Mr. Levi wants to see you in his private office. Leave what you are doing and go to him at once.” Sydney’s pale face went even whiter that it already was; a summons from the head of the firm was unusual, and meant in all probability a severe reproof if not dismissal. She rose from her seat with a sinking heart, and walked from the room with erect, graceful carriage (stigmatised by her fellow toilers as “swank”). She had seen other girls go, and she had seen them return; it was no wonder that her soul shivered with dread of what was to come.

“I expect Miss Thorne is going to get the sack,” whispered one girl to her neighbour. “Jowles has had her knife properly into her all this last week.”

“Silence,” barked Miss Jowles. "Miss Smith, get on with your work.”

Miss Smith muttered something it was as well the lady did not hear, under her breath, and put a fresh sheet of paper into her machine, and save for the tapping of the typewriters, and the tinkling of the bells as the end of each line was reached. silence once more fell over the big room. * Meanwhile the lift carried Sydney swiftly to the upper floor, where she paused outside a door marked “Private,” and knocked with trembling fingers. A harsh, growling voice bade her “Come in,” and she obeyed. She found herself in a small, well-ap-pointed room, its only occupant a stout unwieldy man of about 60, sitting at a large writing table strewn with papers. His yellow face told at once that here was a son of “the Chosen People”; the long, drooping nose, the sad, deep, inky black eyes showed plainly even without the evidence of the name the stamp of the Jew; Hebrew of the Hebrews was written large on every lineament of Simeon Levi’s oily countenance. He raised his eyes from the writing with which he was occupied as the girl entered. “Miss Thorne, is it not? Yes, I want to speak to you. Come nearer, please.” Sydney crossed the room till she stood facing her employer. He pushed back the writing pad with the letters he had been drafting, and looked keenly at the girl, as she waited to be told why he had sent for her, expecting blame or worse. “Your name, I believe, is Thorne,” he commenced. “Sydney Thorne. Your Christian name is an uncommon one, and not often given to a woman.” Sydney stared at her employer in surprise. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I am Sydney Ismay Thorne,” and she drew herself up with great dignity. Mr. Levi nodded as though satisfied with this answer. “I thought as much,” he said quietly. Sydney’s amazement grew. "Ever see ‘The Times,’ Miss Thorne?” “No, sir, I never do,” she said. Mr. Levi took a newspaper from the chair beside him and handed it to her, pointing to a small paragraph on the front page. “Better read that,” he remarked. “It struck me that it might concern you. 1 saw it in yesterday’s ‘Times.’ It just happened to catch my eye as I was looking over the paper last night after I had gone home. Your late father was a valued employee of mine for many years, as you kno-rf-. His death was a great loss to me. I have never been able to find any one to replace him, and it is natural that in recognition of his faithful service I should feel a slight interest in his daughter. It might be worth your while to answer that advertisement, Miss Thorne. You may keep the paper and take it home with you if you like. Let me know if you have any answer to your letter.” He drew his writing materials towards him again, and without further

comment or suggestion selected a pen and dipped it in the ink, plainly intimating that the interview was over, and Sydney withdrew, clasping the paper in a hand that shook with excitement. , She stood in the passage to read the magic words of the little paragraph in the personal column of “The Times,” it was so wonderful she doubted if it could be real. “If this meets the eye of Sydney Ismay Thorne of Island’s Throne, Cumberland, or his children, they are requested to communicate at once with John Thorne of Island’s Thorne, Cumberland, when they may hear of something to their advantage.” Miss Jowles glanced venomously at the girl as she seated herself quietly in her place and prepared to resume her interrupted work. “Any message from Mr. Levi?” she demanded. Sydney raised her head. r “No,” she answered curtly. “Mr. Levi wished to see me on an entirely personal matter.” Miss Jowles snorted wrathfully, then once more the work went on undisturbed in the busy room. CHAPTER IV.—LEAVE OF ABSENCE. “Can you spare me a few minutes, Mr. Levi?” asked Sydney a few days after her first interview with her employer. The Jew glanced at her curiously; she was a very different person to-day from the subdued girl who had stood before him such a short time ago; now she was self-possessed, and there was a suppressed excitement about her which she could not quite conceal. She stood on the threshold of his room, the precincts of which had been up to now. sacred, and only approached with fear and trembling, but some psychological change had swept those feelings away, and to-day she made her demand as equal to equal. The man was conscious of the change, though her words were respectful, and by no outward sign did she proclaim the new footing on which they stood, and a grim smile wreathed the fat lips as he removed the large cigar from them. “Come in, come in,” he said. “Is it about that paragraph I showed you in ‘The Times?* I suppose you have written?” “Yes, and I had this reply this morning.” Sydney laid a reply-paid telegram on his desk, and putting on his spectacles he read the message aloud. “From Thorne. Island’s Thorne.” “Come at once. To-morrow- if possible. Wire time of reaching Thornes Station. Great Border Line.” “Humph! They have not lost much time. Well, it looks like business; and what do you think of doing about it.” Sydney coloured. She was in a trying position. It was impossible for her to explain to her employer how affairs stood with her and confess that she had not the ready money for the long journey, which might prove

a wild goose chase. Her mother’s illness had drained all her resources, and she had had to dip into the little nest egg she had gathered so often of late £0 provide some necessity for the sufferer that it had faded away, and they were now living on the weekly salary earned at Messrs. Levi s clothing emporium. Sydney had swallowed her pride, and had forced herself to come and ask for a u-eek s pay in advance, but now that she had to state her case suitable words would not frame themselves, and she grew ashamed and confused. Messrs. Levi did not pay for holidays, which complicated matters, so if she went to Thornes in accordance with the instructions in the telegram it would entail the loss of her salary for the days she was away, and the mortgaging of her earnings for the succeeding week. “I want to ask you, sir, if you will give me three days’ leave from business”; she got the words out at last. The Jew raised his mournful fathomless eyes to her face and studied it carefully. There was no impertinence in his searching scrutiny. it was just as though he were trying to read what lay behind her words. “It is a busy time. Miss Thorne,” he said slowly, “and you are aware that sudden holidays like this are unorthodox. and that the firm does not grant them except in the case of illness or necessity, when evidence is shown that it is urgent. Can you show any reason why you should be granted this concession?” The colour blazed in Sydney's cheeks, her eyes flashed. She felt the man was trifling with her, and that these questions and reminders were purposeless, but served to show his paltryness. “I must leave that to you, sir,” she said, her head held high. “You gave me the advertisement, and advised me to write. I must, again ask your advice. Do you think it is urgent or not?” “Yes.” was the surprising reply. "I do.” She had taken the right way with the man. Had she fawned upon him, cringed or supplicated, he would have tantalised her and held her in doubt, j but she had flung the responsibility of decision on him. and he respected j her accordingly. Here was no weak, | timid girl ready to be cowed and j brow-beaten, even though he knew | that her work meant a great deal to i her. She was not going to play up i to him, and something told him that if he did not make things possible for her she would face the results and sever her connection with Messrs. Levi and Co. His whole demeanour changed, a kindlier look came into hiu eyes, and he spoke, not as the dreaded head of the firm, but as a reasonable 1 human being. The domineering, bully attitude was dropped, and Sydney saw the real man, as he might have been to one of his own daughters. She waited. He read the telegram again. (To be continued)