Taken Unawares

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 872, 25 November 1916, Page 3

Taken Unawares

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CHAPTER V.— (Continued.) Involuntarily now she put up her 'hands as though to keep out the sound of them; and her lips set sharply together as the burning feeling rose hot ami determined in her heart. She had never forgiven him. She had always hated him for despising her. She had always loathed him for the things he set such store bj—for honesty, and truth, and honour that eould be above price; and that hatred and loathing, lying at the bottom of her heart for so many years, stirred again now and rose, and with them some other feeling —a mixture of feelings that shook her suddenly from head to foot. Hatred? Was it hatred that stirred her now? Loathing? Was the thought that whitened her cheek really loathing? Ten years ago she had made a fatal blunder. She had thrown over Humphrey Hindon, then an obscure and struggling barrister without prospects, for the son of a wealthy brewer. Young Stevenish, the son, had wasted his substance on riotous living, ami his father had never forgiven him. Young Stevenish had died by himself • one night while his wife was supping ■with some friends at a big hotel, and when the old man made his will soon afterwards, he left nothing to the widow. But once, Humphrey Hindon had loved, and wildly loved that widow who stood now staring out into the night; and to-day he was a wealthy barrister, successful, with a bigger future still before him, and fate had brought them all together here in that stupid little village —Fate and Terry Tredwick; and •what did it all mean! What might it not mean if she, Vi Stevenish, pulled the right strings? Her eyes were glittering, her breath •coming quickly. Humphrey Hindon was a bachelor still, after all these years, and apparently had no intention •of marrying. Vi smiled quietly to herself.. No doubt she could alter that intention. What a good thing she had made a friend of Terry! What a good thing the little chit was in their hands! They would be able to manage Humphrey as they liked—especially if Terry was only eufueiently in love with Ferdinand — and no doubt she was. In love with Ferdinand! Things must be hurried. Ferdinand must be made to propose to her, whether he wanted to or not, and, of course, he could always; throw Terry over—of course, after Yi Stevenish was married to Humphrey Hindon! Why not? A hand on her arm startled her; she turned with a cry. Algy Bradford stood before her. She lifted a startled face and then gave a harsh laugh. Algy—of course, Algy Bradford! Well, of course, he must be got rid of first. CHAPTER VI. Humphrey Hindon pushed away his last paper, locked his last drawer, shut away iuto his brief boxes everything to do with his old life, and turned to face the new. Bare, dull, uninterested rooms surrounded him. His chambers, of a drab colour, had seemed to suit his life well enough until now; but now, looking round at the japanned tin deed boxes, at the walls lined with heavy legal books, at the tables smothered in briefs, at the safes, and cupboards, and leather chairs, it seemed as if his life had changed strangely of late, aud as if the familiar room had become suddenly the room of a stranger. Before to-day, the Long Vacation had meant to him a stretch of time that was almost unbearable —that was only made bearable by quantities of books and by the study of briefs, for the most part easily mastered by him before the autumn. But to-day the Long Vacation seemed something utterly different; a period full of strange possibilities, and a table in a corner, bearing upon it his thick cup and plate and a brown earthenware teapot, seemed to give the last strange chill air of discomfort to his old familiar room; and instantly before him rose a vision of a bent yellow head, of a mock-serious, childish face above a table filled with old English tea things, and of a small pair of hands holding out to him a teacup with a garland of half-faded painted roses round it. Many times during the weeks that were to follow he thought Terry Tredwick would pour out tea for him. Perhaps before many weeks were over she would be doing it in his own house. He wondered if it would be possible—if she would agree to a hurried wedding before the autumn? The beat of his heart quickened at the thought, and with an air of envy and determination which was foreign to him, except when he had the conduct of a case in court, he called in his clerk, gave final instructions about letters and the locking up of his chambers, and then caught up his hat and stick. "A cab now, Cole," he said; and Colo, a grave, orderly clerk, who seemed to match the rooms and the dull atmosphere of them, was surprised to hoar Humphrey give the address of a Bond Street jeweller. He would have been still more surprise! had he even seen him bending over the rings the jeweller took out for his inspection—surprised, indeed, to see the cheque he drew for one of them -—a half-hoop of sparkling diamonds. "The size can be altered afterwards," Humphrey said. "I'll post it back to you as soon as I know." Perhaps the jeweller was to such incidents, for his face was utterly indifferent; but it (hanged when Humphrey gave his name, ami the assistant whispered that it was the Humphrey Hindon who was writing the cheque. '' Never!'' he cried, "It is," said the man. "Well, then, the cheque's all light," replied the jeweller; "but I've heard queer stories about him—made of wood, people say. I wonder what he's buying a ring for." "A marriage has been arranged, and will shortly take place," quoted the assistant, and laughed. "You never can tell! " Humphrey drove away, pnil to his house in Brixton, and again the change that seemed to have fallen upon his chambers in the Temple seemed to be Upon this place, too —the house in Which he had lived as a boy, in which

By ANNIE O. TIBBITS JjjJßj Author of jjWjl "The Threads of Destiny," "Life's Revenge," etc

I his mother had died, and which he had I kept on because he had not had the J energy or the interest to do anything' I else. * | It was dull and old, full of heavy Vic- ' torian furniture, smothered with ugly things. He had not thought them ugly before, he had never thought of them at all, but now he was wondering about Terry; if -she would like this or that, if she would like him to alter or change things for her, or if she would prefer to do it all herself; if he should make the house beautiful for her, or if he would let her own little hands work the change. He went through from room to room, to the bewilderment of his housekeeper, who observed him from a respectful distance. "If i f was anybody else I should say he was not right iu his mind," she remarked. "If it was anybody else," said the housemaid, "1 should say he was going to have the drawing-room papered and painted at last. And, my! isn't it time! " "Mr Humphrey's not the one for changes," said the housekeeper, gravely. '' He hates 'em. Not the smallest alteration will he have, and you won 't catch hia papering the drawing-room—-a room he scarcely so much as pokes his nose in one year to another. And whatever possesses him now, I can't think. He's got all my keys, and there he goes—hark to him now! Well, if he isn't going into the drawing-room after all!" They listened at the foot of the stairs, and the housemaid's face sharpened suddenly as they heard him go into the room and close the door behind him. "Mrs Steer," she cried in an awed whisper, "he's going to get married! " ' Mrs Steer turned with a start, her face like a frightened rabbit's, and her open mouth like a little round- O. For a moment she was too startled to speak, but the housemaid, continiing her remarks, roused her to an indignant denial. "The hidea! " she cried with a gasp for breath. '' Emma Deakiu, you 're talkin' as if you were off your head. You don't know the master. Marry? He'd as soon hang himself! But there. You don't know his history as I do, being with his mother afore him, and knowing all his ways from his youth hup. He's a cut-and dried old bachelor, he is. Why, you can see it in him already, though I dare say you think he's older than he is, and not believe he's a young man?" She paused to ! give effect to her words. "Well, there are times when I myself think he looks a hundred,'' she went on, "and all through an actress woman what threw him up on the very eve of his marriage with her, and well nigh killed him. Never shall I forget the weeks he lay—two nusses day and night, and him in brain fever. I always say it wore out his mother, and say it I always shall, for she died a year afterwards, and since then Mr Humphrey's been like you see him now, never any different, and he could 'a' married over and over again, and anybody he chose—from the highest in the land. He could ha' had his choice o' some fine ladies, I can tell you! But, no; Mr Humphrey's got no eye nowadays for woman or child, though years agone I remember he was soft as butter, and the sight o' a child would make his face change as you never saw it, Emma Deakin. And with his mother he was that tender! Yet a month or two ago I mind seeing a child stretch up her hands to him—'twere an old friend's child—and he turned away as though he hated her. But hark! Here he comes. He's a hard one nowadays, is poor Mr Humphrey." "All the same, p'raps I know as much as you, Mrs Steer, and we'll sec who's right. There's a change comin' to this 'ouse—a queer change, too. I get presentiments sometimes, and I've got. one now." "Pooh!" said Mrs Steer as she stalked off to the kitchen, " talking's easy.'' Humphrey came downstairs and into the room he habitually used. Here he had things to do, and in spite of his haste it was later than he intended before he found he was able to get away, and 11 o'clock struck as he got out at last at Barncast.er Station and. looked about on the platform. A porter recognising him hurried forward, and fished out his bags and portmanteau from the carriage. "Glad to see you back again, sir. The Plough, as before, sir?" Yes; the Plough, as before. A slow journey through the darkness of the country, jolting in the old musty country cab that he had ordered, until they reached the old inn. There Humphrey did not wait except to deposit his bags, but drove on again to the dead Sir Anthony's country house. Rambling, stone-coloured, It seemed to rise suddenly out of the darkness of the road, lying back in its dilapidated and overgrown garden, half smothered by its thick growth of elm and fir, ivy clutching at it and half choking its walls and windows. Terry would scarcely expect to see him at this hour of the night, he thought. She would no doubt bo in bed, but he could not resist even getting a glimpse of her before the morning. Something rustled in the bushes as he passed up the short drive over the nursery gravel. He could have imagined he heard a whispered voice and a smothered laugh, and—yen, a footstep on the gravel besides his own, and then :\ man 's voice. It was a servant, no doubt, and he did not stop. He reached the door, and pulling the bell, heard it tinkle faintly in the silent, house. Almost instantly the door was opened by Sarah Mayliug herself. "Miss Terry," she began, and stopped, drawing back abruptly as Humphrey stepped forward. "Oh, Mr Hindon! "she cried. "Well to be sure. And we 'd given up expocting you, Miss Terry and me." He laughed. "But she has not gone to bed, evidently," ho answered. "I only just Mine to see her for a minute. Will you tell her?" The eagerness in his voice was unmistakable, but Mrs Mayling was too agitated to uotice it. Half-past 11, and Terry not in—too late for the fable about the rectory and the wild goose chase now! "If you'll go into the sitting-room, sir," she said, "I'll go and see—fetch her, I mean." (To be continued.)