The Stronger Passion

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 650, 30 April 1929, Page 5

The Stronger Passion

By

Rowan Glen.

Siu.hor of The Great Anu ,, The Be,! Gift 0 f All." I-or Love Or for Gold." S-c . 6-c

run. FTEK XVIII.—THE EVE OF departure VoUS uffered at m ' bands, and you've rfpayci the suffering by doing the biggest thing one man could do for other. If you'll give me your hand, je aning the handshake as you say, „ ou U make me happier than I've been for years.” For a second or two their gaze held, •hen Hart's hand went out and was -ripped by Macßae's. •q 0 word passed between them after ihat, but M"cßae going from the room, pajsed outside the closed door and sighed as a man sighs from whose shoulders a heavy burden has been loosed. On the evening of that day, MaeKae, who hod inadvertently overheard rjje gossip of a couple of his womenservants, went to The Royal Stag Hotel in Dochrine. and asked for Maurice Rollingward. He was told that “Mr. Rollingward and Miss Manton were in the garden,’’ and while he was about to go there in search of them, he saw them rise (rom a bench and come, arms linked, inward one of the hotel's rear entrances. They parted outside the hotel and Macßae, having watched Rollingward for a moment or two, called his name and added: "Wait for me there, will you? I'll ba down in a moment.” When he had joined the younger nan he spoke bluntly. “I'm not so interested in these matters as I was even a few days ago,” lie remarked, “but i nope you won't tell me that I'm butting into things that, don't concern me if I ask if your encasement with Elaine Hart still holds good? You see, I heard my cook say today that you'd broken with Elaine. Also, I noticed you and Lilian a moment ago and if you weren’t having what would be called a love-talk tojether, then 1 never saw lovers.” Rollingward’s cheeks, so quick to colour, reddened now. lie laughed and after the briefest hesitancy, nodded. “You've got it,” he confessed. “But don't think that I've played any lowdown game on Elaine. She doesn’t care a hoot for me, and I’ve guessed that from the word ’Go!’ You were right when you said that I didn’t know my own mind. '[didn’t then—but I do now! Elaina and 1 ended things this afteruooD. I’d have gone on with my marriage to her, Sit hadn’t been that she let me understand clearly enough that she made a mistake in promising herself to me. Then I came to Lilian, and I told her everything, and she—well, dammit all man! the wonder of wonders happened! She cared for me! Even now 1 can scarcely believe it. She told me that she'd once thought herself to be in love with you, but what she thought was love had only been s very deep friendship.” It was some moments before MacKae's astonishment lessened. “I was right then,” he remarked quietly. “Right about, you, and right, 100, about Lilian. Well. I'm glad. 1 congratulate you, Rollingward, and the congratulation's genuine. Lilian Manton’s one of t<je finest girls I’ve ever met. But. Elaine—are you dead sure that this break won't her?” “Dead sure, Macßae. I tell you that the break would never have come Irom my side. To put it ou the lowest ground, I wouldn't have had courage enough to ask a girl to free me tl 1 thought that she didn’t want me ca have that freedom. No! it was Elaine who gave me the lead, and you -should be mighty glad that things have turned out this way.” “Glad? I? I’ve no cause for glad»ess. But I'm uot going to talk about Elaine. I’m going to clear out. of Arnavrach, y’know, and 1 11 be doing that at once. And now, if you’ll tell me where l can tiud Lilian. I’ll go to her.” A lew minutes later he found Lilian ’here she sat with her aunt, and the latter, tactful as ever, made an excuse for leaving them together. At first, Lilian seemed almost painfully shy; was disinclined to talk about herself, or her newly-arranged f ngagement. As Macßae spoke about his liking for Rollingward, however, and about the other's good qualities, her uneasiness passed and the praise °i her lover brought a glow to her cheeks. "You’re a dear. Blair,” she told him. laying a hand on one of his for an instant. You understand so well, and ynuve always been so tremendously ®nd to me. 1 want to think that, eten after I'm married we’ll hear born each other often, and see each °tner now and then. Maurice will 'ant that, too. 1 know. He's got a fatneudously high opinion of you." Then,” said Macßae, and laughed, nes not so wise as I thought. I’m bald that for a long time now I •nst have been a pretty poor sort companion for anvone. I’ve bea dull dog. Lilian. Perhaps IrmV because I’ve been pretty : and because I’ve been carryu* a weight around with me that as only j US , been shifted. -a waited with her for some ten m° re . minutes but neither of them entinned Elaine till he was about to ®'"e away. sal' len Lilian, caught perhaps by the eva SS his eyes, looked iuto those ’..a aioadilv. and asked. Too ”° Ut . K,ainp - Blair? T can’t let know* 0 w khout askiug about her. I rice ' course, that before Maurin an< l s he had fixed up that aria '’ emei 't of theirs she'd promised ■rw? rry -ou.” 'Urn -- yO s U know. ' he asked in his ] » ' she ended that promise? hn t jf. ct You've guessed at the truth, vhnip S “ ardl Y worth going into the Up story now. Ini not proud of .. v ßart in it.” on. 0U ' ove ker. don't you?" she w ent C a moment he frowned. Had *ouM k Put the question, he nave resented it; would have

left it unanswered. As it was, he nodded. I do, he said. "I’m afraid, too, that I always shall.” “Afraid?” “Y r es. I d a thousand times rather be as I was before I ever met her. This love is a very agonising business, Lilian, unless everything goes as it will go, I hope and believe, between you and the man you’re going to marry. With me, it’s all jumbled “You’ll go to her now though, won't you, now that she’s free?” “No. You’d understand, I think, if I explained everything, but even with you I don’t waut to do that. Anyway, the fact that Elaine is no longer bound, makes little difference with me.” “I feel sure she’d marry you. Blair,” Lilian, went ou, as though pleading with him to throw aside his pessimism. *‘l feel as certain as can be that if you asked her to be your wife she’d say ‘Yes.’ ” Ilis lips moved, but the movement was scarcely a smile. “I know she would.” he agreed. ‘‘As we mayn’t be meeting again for a long time. I’ll tell you now that she offered to do that.” “Well, then—well, surely '* He shook his head. “It’s no good,” he said. “Y’see, she made that offer, not because she loved me, or trusted me, but because fate, or chance, or whatever you like to call it, had arranged that. 1 should do something pretty big, first for her, and then for her father.” ‘‘Oh! ” Lilian exclaimed, and the exclamation was loug drawn out, and very low. “That’s the way of it Blair?” “That’s the way of it., Lilian.” Still she strove to encourage him. “You may believe that she made that, offer only because she felt herself to be in your debt, so to speak,” she continued. “But I don’t, Blair. I’ve seen a good deal of her the last few days, and I can’t make her out. “Till lately I thought I knew her through and through. She’s so straightforward—so simple, in a way —that I thought I could read her mind. But she’s changed. She’s like a woman who’s fighting something out with herself, or who’s searching for something aud can’t find it. She seems to be all the time moving around with her head in the clouds. How do you explain that, Blair—if she isn’t in love?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I could give you half a dozen explanations,” he answered. “The simp-

lest one is that she's suffering from reaction following on that bad scare she got when her father nearly pegged out. “When you get under the surface with Sir Charles, you find that he’s a pretty good sort of fellow. Ive had no reason to love him —it's been the other way round —but he aud I have fixed up our differences now. Anyway, Elaine loves him, aud she was as near as a toucher to a nervous breakdown oil that night when I operated. That’s what’s happened. She's worked herself into a nervous condition. The couditiou will pass once she realises that her father really is safe aud that, bar accidents or bad luck, he’s got a score of years ahead of him. Lilian sighed. , , ••You may be right, she admitted “but if I were you, I kuow what I d tell me.” he suggested, and tried to speak lightly. “Suppose you were in my posiliou. Lilian, how would vou act? I know how I'm going to a Ct of course. I'm going to do what common sense tells me to do I m going to clear right away—and for a fong spell. But how would you act. Her eyes were very soft as she anS "‘T'd hire the hotel and I d go straight up to The Loufe and to Flaine I'd tell her that 1 was lea in- Arnavrach almost at once, but that before r went I wanted to have a St “TCe 1 had lo'many straight talks

with her!” Macßae remarked. “Still, go ou, Lilian. What else?” “Well I'd tell her, of course, that 1 loved her. I’d convince her of that, somehow, and I’d remind her that she’d once said that she loved me and that she’d promised to marry me. I’d sav that I didn’t expect a definite answer right away, but that I’d like to have one in a month’s time.” “Ts that all you’d do?” “No! It' I were a man like you, Blair. I believe I'd just take Elaine in my arms and kiss her. and tell her that T felt that she belonged to me. If I looked into her eyes after that,. I'd know whether she cared for me or whether she was merely anxious to pav a debt.” “You almost persuade me to have one more try,” he said. “But it s no good. Lilian. I’d only be fooling myself.” “Try- it. Blair!" she urged. “Try it — lust once. There won’t need to be a socond time. 0“e way c l ' the other vou’ll know. To nlease me! Will you? Will you get the car now and go Vo The Lodge and have a final t.-ik with Elaine” He hesitated. Then: “I’ll do it.” he agreed, “to please vo u— and to convince myself. T know I’ve become morbid. I can’t help it. There was a. time when I thought 1 1 was going to pull the biggest sort oc prize from life’s Jncky-bag. Now- ray bands are empty. Still. T’ll go to The Lodge.” , , _ , He did that, but it was only to find that Elaine was out. and that she had not said when she would return. He had a few minutes’ talk- with : Hart, and during that talk the temper- ■ ary enthusiasm which Lilian Manton j had engendered passed. “I don't know when Elaine will be |

back,” the judge said. “She went out on the loch, T kuow. and she went alone. I wish she hadn’t, because I’m beginning to be weatherwise about these parts, and I should say that there’s a storm blowing up. If 3’ou’re really going off to-morrow, then she’ll be sorry to have missed you. [ told her that I thought you wouldn't be here much longer, and she said that j she’d like to say a good-bye. Perhaps j you’ll meet her when you’re pulling; across to the island.” But though Macßae waited on the j loch till long after gloaming time had j merged iuto darkness, he saw no sign j of any boat. Tired out, he reached tlie j islaud, but uot till he had experienced 1 minutes of anxiety during which his I little craft was slammed this way aud that by the suddenly-risen waves -/id ! wind. Once in his comfortable smoke room lie poured out a whisky and soda. and. ; having glanced through a railway guide, felt for his favourite pipe. He failed to find it, and remembered that he had left it in the boat. Rising he rang a bell, and presently Robert Pringle came to him. “Pringle,” Macßae said. “I want you to slip down to see if you can find that bent pipe of mine in the boat I was j using. It was the one I left yester- j

day on The Lodge shore. And Pringle?” “Yes, sir!” “You and I are leaving here to-mor-row morning by the eight o'clock train. I’ll be up by six, and you'd better set that alarm clock of yours for the same time. I’ll do some packing to-night, but you cau please yourj self whether you get your gear to- | gether now or in the morning.” j “I’ll do it to-night, sir.” Pringle | said. “Might I be asking where we’re ■ going, and for how long?” ! “To London first. I’ll stay there for | a. couple of days only. I'll want to see : my uncle and to fix up train berths * aud passports. I’m going to head for ; Italy. I’ve never been there, and I’ve i always longed to go. After a month j or so we may slide across to Ceylon. I But, I don’t know about that yet. AnyI way, we leave here in the morning. ! and we may be gone for months —or years. I'll instruct a local lawyer to fix up about the servants aud the house.” During the other’s absence, MacRae looked twice at his watch and snap-snapped a thumb and finger irritably. Then the room door was pushed wide, and an agitated Pringle came in, rain streaming down his face and sodi dening his clothes. ! “For the Lord's sake, sir.” he exI claimed, “hurry! When I was passing the rocks on the shore I tripped over Miss Hart.” ! “You —what?” ! “Tripped over Miss Hart, sir. I : pulled her well clear o' the water, but ! she’s lying yonder half dead, it seems j to me. When I spoke to her she. opened her eyes and looked up at me J as though she didn’t see me. I could j hardly hear her, sir, she spoke so

quiet-like. but she was calling for - you.” ' < The glass which Maeßae had been holding slipped from his fingers, and its contents spattered over his knee. Hands on the chair-arms, he raised j ‘ himself and caught at one of Pringle’s ; shoulders. “What The devil’s all ihis?” he ; asked. “Are you crazy or drunk, or j

—what does it mean? Miss Hart lying j on the shore, and hurt, and asking for me ?” Pringle had steadied now. "Beg your pardon, sir, ’ he answered. “I didn't say as she was hurt. I don’t j know about that. 1 only said, she seemed half dead. And she wasn’t , asking for you. She was simply saying your name. It’s so damned dark

out there now that I couldn’t be sure of the thing, but I think there was a boat upside down and banging against the rocks. Likely she was caught in : the storm and capsized. Anyway ** He left the sentence unfinished, bei cause Maeßae had pushed him aside ' and gone from the room at a run. (To be continued daily.)