Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 548, 28 December 1928, Page 5

Island’s Thorne

(Serial Story)

(Published by Special Arrangement)

BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I. and II. —The Master of Island's Thorne. John Ismay Thorne, is warned by his doctor that he is suffering from heart trouble which might prove fatal at any time. He determines to ascertain the whereabouts of a son he had disinherited over twenty years ago. He puts a notice in the •‘Personal column of "The Times.” A fortnight later he receives a letter signed Ismay Thorne.” and stating: *T am the only surviving child of the late Sydney Ismay Thorne.” Later a wire is received intimating that Sydney intends to torue north at once. Hugh Ormandy, the old man’s nephew, is upset at tne thought of his unknown cousin s presence at Island’s Thorne. He had looked forward to inheriting the property at nis uncle's death. He confides his e to Katherine Drury, who farms ParKhead, a property she has bought froin the Master of Island's Thorne. She bids him “face things like a J™an. After his departure she acknowledges that the man she loves has much to CHAPTERS HI. and IV. —Sydney Thorne is a girl typist in the of Simeon Levi, a jew clothier, of London. He had shown her John Thornes advertisement in "The Times. She haa written and wired to the Master of Island's Thorne. She asks for of absence, and Simeon Levi lends hei for the journey north. Sydney tells her mother, who is an invalid, of the loan, and that she intends to see her Brandfather. although she bears no love toward him on account of the way he has treated her parents. CHAPTER IV (Continued^ "This may mean much or little, he said. “But were lin your position I should feel inclined to take a sporting chance and go. Life is made up of chances; some people take them, others do not. That is the secret in which success and failure lie. Do you know anything of this John Thorne, and what relation is he to you?" “He is my grandfather," said Sydney. “i have heard my father talk

of him, though he did not do so often. He disinherited him because he did not approve of his marriage, and the breach was complete. I believe lie is a very rich man, or he was 26 years ago, when he quarrelled with my father." The Jew considered this reply. “Humph!" he grunted again. “These people never grasp the fact that when they wish to make amends for what they have done, it may not always be convenient for the other party. It may not always be convenient, yousee, Miss Thorne.” he repeated, watching her narrowly. The tell-tale colour flooded Sydney’s fac€: again, but this time she sank her head. “I was going to ask you, sir, if you would me to draw my salary for the coming week to-day,” she said. “Why for the coming week?” he asked. “Why not for this one” “It will hardly be enough, I shall only have three days’ pay due to me if l am away three days.” ‘Miss Thorne, Miss Thorne!” Mr. Levi spoke quickly. “I am not an inhuman monster. I am obliged to adopt the; attitude I do to prevent myself being continually sponged upon. Business is business, and it must be conducted on certain lines; but in your case I know probably more of your father’s affairs than you imagine, so you need not hesitate to be quite frank with me. I gather from certain tilings you have said that it will not be easy for you to go to Thornes, aud that it will entail considerable sacrifice. Be frank with me. Is this not true?” “Perfectly, sir.” Sydney threw her

l—pride to the wind, again acting wisely. “My going will take all the money I have, and how my mother and I are to live during the interval I do not know.” Mr. Levi studied the blotting paper before him as if it would help him, then he took a railway guide from a pile of books at his elbow and began hunting through it. “There is a train from Euston at two o’clock,” he said. “It is the best train of the day, and by it you will reach Thornes Station at half-past seven in the evening. That will be your train, Miss Thorne. And now there is something else. You shall not draw your pay in advance, that is against my principles ; I refuse But I will lend you the money—no, do not say anything till you have heard me out. As I have said before, I am a business man, and I am treating this as a business matter. One takes risks, sometimes they prove well advised, sometimes they fail, one has to run the chance. Well, I am going to enter into a compact with you now. I propose to write you a cheque for £2O; or no. I will pay you cash; and you are to go to Thornes and see this elderly relative of yours, and if things go well you will soon be in a position to return the money. If they do not come to anything, well, I am taking the risk. I gave you the advertisement. I now tell you to go. and I must make it possible for you. No, do not thank me, I am doing nothing, for I know my money is safe enough, and I only fear that I am going to lose one of my best clerks. You are free to go now. I will see Miss Jowles and tell her that I have given you a week’s holiday with pay, that it is in recognition of your late father's faithful service to me.” He counted out the notes, pressed them into the girl’s hand, and almost pushed her out of the room, as though he were ashamed of his action and did not wish her to speak. She stood in the corridor outside the closed door, pale and shaking, then she went to the cloakroom and put on her outdoor things. ; Outside in the sordid street the | sickly London sun -was trying to shine; to Sydney it all looked radiant, and she thought the city quite a pleasant place as she made her way to the nearest post office and sent off her telegram, saying that she would go to Thornes on the following day. then waited for a bus which would carry her home, where she would have to break the wonderful news to her mother. Her impatience for action was such that the accustomed drive seemed to take twice as long as usual, and when she reached her destination she could not wait to walk down the little street in which she lived, but had to run. She found her mother iu. and the poor

lady was surprised, almost alarmed, by her sudden appearance, and thought something serious must have happened. Mrs. Thorne still bore traces of the beauty which had won young Sydney Thorne’s heai/t, and made him willing to sacrifice so much. Like her daughter, she was a tall woman, and there was a dignity about her which poverty had not been able to entirely eliminate. tier brown hair had turned white with the stress of anxiety and illhealth. and hqr general appearance was that of a woman older than she really was. She had had a hard and difficult life. First there had been her romantic marriage, followed almost immediately by the death of her parents, and then long, long years of struggle and endurance, when it took every ounce of energy to keep their heads above water. “Sydney, lass, is anything the matter?” she asked, and the frail hands,

which held a piece ot needlework, trembled. Sydney stooped and kissed her, then flung herself down into a chair. “Wonderful things,” she said happily. “Oh, mother, it is all so exciting —just like a story hook. I hardly kuow how to tell you. Mr. Levi was nicer than 1 ever imagined he could be. He has a heart, after all, under the most grasping exterior. I am to go to Island’s Thorne, he says so, and I have wired that they may expect me to-morrow. Oh, mother, just think of it! But I hate leaving you.” “I shall be all right, dear,” her mother told her. “Mrs. Macdonald will look after me. so you need uot worry. You know how good she is. quite a model landlady, and you will come back as soon as you can. I am only too glad that your grandfather has sent for you at last, it is your due, and we have suffered enough for the harsh injustice that he meted out to your poor father.” “I am sure he is going to be a horrid old man, and I kuow I shall dislike him intensely,” Sydney affirmed. “I am going entirely on your account, mother mine, I have no kind feeling toward him.” “Hush." said Mrs. Thorne, “do not say things like that, and do not go in that spirit, child. There has been too much of it already. Wait until you see your grandfather before you judge him. You are a real Thorne, proud and haughty like them all. Your father was a Thorne, too. and it was his pride which kept us where we were. You all like your own way, Sydney. I know the Thornes of Island’s Thorne.” Sydney laughed. “And we can make ourselves thoroughly disagreeable when we are thwarted,” she said. “Poor mother, you must have had a hard time between us all. Well, all I can say Is I hope the old curmudgeon likes me.” “I am not afraid of that.” The mother's eyes rested lovingly on the girl. “I wonder who is at Parkhead now. You will go and have a peep at my old home, will you not, Sydney?” ‘Of course I ■will, and oh! mother, I shall love Thornes, however much I hate grandfather. I have always wanted to go and see it all for myself. How I wish you were coming too.” “It is best you should go alone.” Mrs. Thorne spoke gently. “I do not suppose your grandfather will ever forgive me.” “Then if he does not I shall never forgive him,” cried Sydney impetuously. “I w-ill never leave you, mother, not for all the grandfathers in the world.” CHAPTER V.—HUGH'S COUSIN. Hugh Ormandy paced the little

platform of the station of Thornes impatiently. The train which was to bring Sydney was not yet signalled. He had arrived early to meet it, and as he waited, consumed with anxiety, he looked with miserable eyes at the rugged mountains which had grown so dear to him during the years that his home had been among them. He saw the larch woods covering the slopes, now in the first glory of their delicate green; while higher up the bracken had commenced to thrust up curved heads, and warm red-brown or brilliant green patches showed where the sphagnum moss grew, mingling in the soft evening light with the grey and purple shadows of the crags. Here and there on some shoulder, or nearly hidden in some secluded, sheltered spot on the fell-side, small whitewashed farms gave the hint of human habitations, and beyond the signal-box at the station lay the one small street which comprised the vil-