The Stronger Passion

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 638, 15 April 1929, Page 5

The Stronger Passion

By

Rowan Glen.

Author of “ 7he Great Anvil," The Best Gift of All," For Love or for Gold," &c . &c

CHAPTER VII. (contiued). "I think I understand,” Lilian said, >tsing as he rose. “Of course, I can’t do that, really, but Blair! I know I can trust you to say good-night to me with a laugh, and to answer my laugh when we meet to-morrow, or whenever it may be. I promise that a mad moment, like this, will never come again. But"—she put her hands up and laid them against his cheeks —“I’m going to kiss you if you don’t mind —just once." He leaned toward her and their lips ttet. . . . A small foot stepped Inadvertently on to a thin, fallen tree branch. At the crackling of the branch. Macßae and Lilian started. With moonlight dripping its flakes on to her white evening frock, Elaine stood a yard or two away, a hand rp ßting against the smooth trunk of a silver birch. CHAPTER VIII. —ONE NIGHT ON THE ISLAND.—(Continued.) For a moment she remained motionleßs. Neither Macßae nor Lilian could tell whether she had seen their Jtiss, nor, indeed, whether she was looking at them now. It was Macßae who first recovered from chagrined surprise he who called out a cheery : Hello, Elaine! Anything happened? '>e were just getting home.”

As though startled from some reverie, she came towards them and spoke with a nonchalance which deceived them both into believing that the lover-like incident had passed unnoticed.

“That’s good then,” she began. “I might have had to go all the way to the cottage. Maurice wanted to come instead of me, but I made him help the old boatman up to his house. This looks like being a busy night for you, Blair, for when he was trying to get ashore, he hurt his leg badly between i the boat and a rock. _ \ “Who did?” Lilian asked. “Not Mr. Rollingward?” “No —Duncan Graham. He says he's sure that nothing's broken, and that he doesn’t want a fuss made, but both Maurice and I thought that the leg should be attended to at once." “Of course,” Macßae sfgreed. “Poor Duncan. Well! I’ll see to him while i you two go on to the house. I’m ! sorry all this has happened, but it's lucky I was around.” He parted from the girls, for, though j Lilian had again offered her services he had urged her to go on with Elaine. I She had done so reluctantly, but withi out giving any indication of regret. As the others moved away, Macßae I watched them and did so uneasily. He guessed that they were walking in silence; guessed, too, that Elaine had after all, seen him stoop down to recieve the older girl’s kiss. That was annoying and would need to be explained as tactfully as might be, and at the first opportunity. Why on earth had Lilian chosen that particular moment to ,tell him that about herself which he had never suspected? Yet that was scarcely fair; scarcely gracious. It would be more reasonable to grumble because Elaine had happened on them as she had done and had brought a new awkwardness to a situation already awkward enough. Shadows about his eyes, he turned and going to the cottage, found stoical Duncan Graham lying on a horsehaircovered couch there, and having his swollen knee bathed by his wire. That he was suffering pain was evident, but in answer to the surgeon s questions he protested that the worst of this pain had passed. Macßae. when he had examined the leg nodded reassuringly to the anxious-faced woman who had been! watching so closely. i “We’re not going to have much j

trouble with this, Mrs. Graham,” he told her. “It isn’t serious, and if Duncan here lies up for twenty-four hours or so, he’ll be able to hop around. He’ll need to be careful, that’s all, and you can go on with those hot fonflentations. You’ve slightly damaged the cartilage round j (he knee-cap. Duncan, but you needn’t | be afraid that you’re going to be an invalid.” “You’re limping yourself, sir,” the old man remarked. “I seen you when you came in.” “Oh that? Yes* I fell and banged my knee, but it’s not so bad as yours, and the stiffness’ll go if I keep using it.” His mood then was friendly and sincerely genial, but when he had , gone from the cotaage and was walking through the garden of his own house, depression returned, and this gave place presently to irritation. Something was the matter, so he assured himself. Some subtle influence was at work which was fighting against his main purpose and striving, if not to undermine it, at least to lessen its rigidity. The idea that he. might, after all, have been affected by Elaine’s charm and beauty, occurred to him, but that enemy-thought was laughed aside. Quite definitely and quite sincerely, he assured himself that if there were any softer emotions still in his being they were dormant, and could not, in any case, be stirred by one of the same blood as Mr. Justice Hart. | Luck, rather than any scheming on | his part, saw to it that he and Elaine should be alone for nearly half an hour before the breaking up of the party, and Macßae used that half hour skil- ! fully—and callously. ! He and the girl were seated to- ! gether on the small verandah of the house and were watching the moonlight spattered water, which, for the second time that night, Macßae preferred to that half-love speech which he had made on Ben Alsh. “If you tell me you won’t listen. I’ll have to wait still longer,” he said, slowly, “but the waiting will be difficult. It isn’t a thing that needs any explaining, and I couldn’t explain it if I tried. It simply comes to this--I’ve got to thinking about you as I never in my life thought about a woman before. “I always told myself that love wasn’t to be for me, and I believe I was glad to think that work would be my only big Interest in life. That’s ail altered. I‘ve got another interest now.” He saw the twitching of her lips; saw how her bosom rose and fell in a short sigh. Still she did not answer, and he laid a hand on the clasped ones lying in her lap.

“Elaine,” he went on, “it’s ove; You understand? I must know whether or not you care for me. If you don’t, I promise not to pester you in the future. If you do ” “Y T es?” she whispered. “What then?” “Why, then, everything’ll be different. My whole life will be changed. Til know success, instead of failure. You’re very wonderful. y’know. It isn’t only jour beauty—for you are beautiful —and it isn’t onlj” that personality of yours which makes everyone love you. I don't think it's even

a blend of the two, though, of course, they count. It’s something bigger than either of them. It’s you—you yourself. Oh! I can’t explain. I can only say again—l love you.” Slowly, she turned to him. “I do care,” she said. “1 care' very much; far more than I’ve wanted to care.”

“Can’t you guess? I was terribly afraid that I was beginning to love a man who didn't think about me seriously. But before I say anything more to you about that, and before you say anything, I’ve got to ask you about Lilian Manton. I didn’t want to see you and her in the woods an hour or so ago, but I couldn’t help it. I saw her put her hands against your face, and kiss you. What did that mean?” “Surely, it isn’t that, Elaine? You didn't think I could kiss a girl and make love to her, and then come and make love to you? Still, it’s got to be explained, and the explanation’s going to be difficult.” “You don’t care for her, then?”

“I do —very much —as a friend. I’ve known her for years, but never even for a second have I imagined myself to care for her in the way you mean. I wish you’d help me out with things, my dear.

“When we were walking back from the cottage I must have said something or other that Lilian misconstrued. Anyway, she realised almost immediately that she’d made a mistake, and —well, she gave me a sort of sister-to-brother kiss that sealed our friendship and marked it for all time as friendship only. Do you understand? I feel devilish awkward, speaking about it, but —” Nodding, she interrupted him.

“I think I know,” she said. “I think that you are feeling toward Lilian just as that I feel to Maurice Rollingward. Blair! Can you believe it? That love has come to us? I can’t yet. It’s too marvellous for me to grasp.” He put an arm about her and, drawing her close, kissed her. When the kiss was over, he bit on his lips sharply, but. he did not feel pain. “And now,—-my beautiful girl,” he said, as, rising, he took her hands and swung them this way and that, “are we going to tell the folk to-night?” “Please —no,” she begged. “In one way I’d love to do that. I’d love to go out and shout to the whole world that the man I love loves me, but there are things to think about.” “What things?”

“Lots, dear. First father. He likes you and admires you, of course, and, as he says, he’ll always be in your debt, but he’s set his head on my marrying Maurice. I’ll need to handle him gently—father, I mean. That’s why I don’t want any engagement between us yet.”

“But. dear, you wouldn’t think of marrying Rollingward now?” “Of course not. Still, my conscience will be easier if we don’t get engaged for a bit. It’s good enough meantime, isn’t it, to know that we love each other? I could never possibly love any other man. But I want to go slowly.” “When will you tell your father?” “Soon, but not yet.” “It seems to me," Macßae said.

“that the sooner he’s told the better. And now, though I’d love to sit out with you here for hours and hours, it’s getting late and Miss Falrweather may be wanting to make a move.” When, some 20 minutes later, he saw his guests off in the boats which were waiting for them, he was at 'his gayest. Yet he sobered once while he met Rollingward’s eyes. There was suspicion there, and a dawning enmity. As he walked slowly back to the house, Macßae wondered why tjiat look had come.

He did not know that the younger man had seen him and Elaine coming arm in arm along the verandah.

CHAPTER IX. OLD ACQUAINTANCES On the next morning, Macßae was helping old Robin Fergusson in the garden when, within an hour of each other, two visitors came to him. Maurice Rollingward was the first and seemed surprised to find that Sir Charles Hart had not preceded him. “A dam’ nice business this, MacRae.” he began irritably. “You needn’t look as though you couldn’t understand, for I’m sure you do. I’m here to talk about you and Elaine Hart. The whole thing came out last night. , “While we were waiting for the cars on the shore over yonder, I got rather ratty with Elains and challenged her with having flirted with you. I said that I’d seen you and her coming, arm in arm, along the verandah here. Dash it all! you know, she admitted it!” “Well?” Macßae prompted. “What next? “What next? Well, it was a bit of a facer for me, considering the fact that I’ve asked her to marry me twice since I’ve been up here. The old man blew when she and I were scrapping about it. He and Elaine and I were well away from the others—thank the Lord —and, if you please, Elaine seemed to lose her head suddenly and blurted out that, though she wasn’t engaged to you and didn’t intend to get engaged for a bit, she was in love with you and you were in love with her. “I thought Sir Charles was going to have some kind of fit or something. He tried to keep himself in hand, but I could see how things had hit him. He’s always worked in my side, and he’s terrifically keen for , Elaine and me to get spliced. And now you come, dodging along and trying to spoil the whole business. I thought he’d have been to see you already this morning. Anyway, he’s coming.” Macßae smiled. On the whole he

liked Maurice Rollingward very well. He liked his good sportsmanship and his enthusiasm and his cheery, almost school-boyishly outlook on life. But be had no intention of allowing his liking to interfere with Mr. Justice Hart. “Now look here, Rollingward,” he said. “We're not going to quarrel, you and I. At least I’m not going to quarrel with you. I like you and I’d always rather help you than hurt you. But I’m not going to have you lecturing me as though I’d stolen something belonging to you. That’s not the way of it at all.” “I suspected that you wanted Elaine to marry you, but there was no engagement, and the field was open. You’ve admitted that you asked her twice to marry you—and she must have refused. Well then, where’s your kick?”

Still Rollingward grumbled and the grumble remained when he went away. “All right,” he remarked, as a final word. “I see your point well enough and I’m not going to try emptying a revolver into you. or anything of that sort. But all the same I warn you that I don’t consider myself out of the running. Till you and Elaine are openly engaged, or even till you’re married, I’ll take any chance that happens to come my way to do you down where she’s concerned.”

“Have it that way then,” Macßae agreed. “But you're even younger than your years, Rollingward, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you changed your mind about things. It's different with me. My mind’s been made up for a long time. I’ve seen a goal, and I’m walking to it just as fast as I can.”

With Sir Charles Hart his interview was touched by many more points of danger. Hatred’s voice urged him indeed toward physical retribution. It said:

“Take your revenge with your hands now. You had a chance once before, and you let it slip. Tackle him as man to man and get it over.” But a voice, more subtle, urged caution. It urged that when Mr. Justice Hart suffered, he should suffer slowly, and that the suffering should affect, not his body, but his mind*. Macßae had guessed rightly that the judge, though at a comparatively early age, he had climbed high, was ambitious to climb higher still. He loved his daughter, but, dullsighted in certain ways, did not sec why a marriage between her and young Rollingward should in the end mean unhappiness for her. What he did see was that, almost certainly, it would mean progress for himself. Maurice Rollingward was the son of Lord Clayhurst and Lord Clayhurst was one of the most power ful members of the Cabinet. There was no knowing to w: $$ heights Mr. Justice Hart might climo if Mr. Justice Hart’s daughter became the daughter-in-law of Lord Clayhurst. Thus it was that Macßae knew his first taste of revenge as he listened while the man, whom he hated, stated his case. “I don’t say that I’m blaming you,” the judge remarked. * But I do say that I’m very deeply disappointed by what my daughter told me last night, and by what you’ve admitted this morning.” “Admit is scarcely the right word, Sir Charles/’ Macßae returned. “Tha* implies error, and I made no error in speaking to Elaine as I did. After all, the case is quite simple. Rollingward wants to marry your daughter. You want her to marry him. She doesn’t want to marry him. She wants to marry me—though Lord knows why!—and I want to marry her. Well, there you are! You're not going

to play the heavy parent, surely, and urge this girl of yours, whom you love as I know you do, to give herself to some man who isn’t her mate at all.” “Ah! So you conceive yourself as being her ideal mate, Macßae?” ) “Why not, Sir Charles? I’m older than she is, but not too old. I’ve an attractive home to offer her, and an adequate income. If I wished, I ! could augment that income, by work- ! ing.” And then the judge re-put bis case, and, on the whole, re-put it blundcr- ■ ingly. (To be Continued.)