Alpine Daisies

Taranaki Daily News, 20 December 1924, Page 1 (Supplement)

Alpine Daisies

(Second Prize Open Story Competition.) (By A. M. Strack.) “Come on, you kids! The guide says it’s time we were off,” a boyish voice called, and the girls hurried out, trim and neat in mountaineering outfit. “Not bad,” grudged Eric Mansfield, critically, “guess you’ve been half the time in front of the mirror, though—at least Lorna has,” and Alma Baird chuckled as Lorna retorted to the best of her sisterly ability.

Out on the verandah of the Lake Hotel, a party of fifteen or so, stood, adjusting ruc-sacs and chatting, ready to start. A drizzling rain was setting in, and there was a ten mile walk along the valley to the hut wherein they would spend the night. But what matter? When the air runs through your veins like wine, and your spirits soar akin to those distant mountain tops, a walk like this is sheer joy. Two men who were not of the BairdMansfield party lev' the way with the guide. Lorna gave a start as she glimpsed for a second at the profile of the taller of the two. “It could’nt be —,” she thought. “This is a man. That other was a mere' boy,” and she dismissed the thought. The path was cut through virgin bush, and ferns and undergrowth glistened wetly on either side. High overhead the trees reared, swaying in the wind. The high sweet voices of the girls, and Lorna’s spontaneous laugh at some Shlly of her brother’s, rang out clearly through the rain. Here the track was wide enough for tw'o to walk abreast, but soon it narrowed, as they skirted' a hill. The rain fell steadily, but it was midsummer and quite warm.

“Isn’t it great, Dad ?” beamed Alma. “Fancy enjoying rain dripping down on your nose!” Came presently a stream swollen till it seemad impassable, but a few yards higher up they found a crossing could be effected —a leap to a log in midstream and thence to the far bank. Those in front wait'ed for the stragglers to come up and helped them over. Lorna’s turn came, and Lindsay Mcßae, on th e opposite bank, seeing her for the first time, gave a smothered exclamation. Then as, the feat accomplished, the girl’s face broke into a smiling “Thank you” to h : s mate he murmured “Brockenhurst!” Lorna turned at the familiar word and met his intent gaze. “I’m not mistaken, am I,” and he raised his can. “Nurse Mansfield ?”

“Nurse Mansfield, sure enough,” answered the girl, “but—?” she questioned, lightly, the colour rising in her cheeks at the memory of her last meeting with this man. He should never guess that she remembered him—had been certain of his identity from the moment she had caught sight of him from the other bank.

There was a puzzled, almost hurt expression in the man’s eyes as he said, “McRae, you know, in Ward Four. I had a crook leg. Y'ou must remember,” he urged, as the girl, herself under control now regarded him apparently in the frank*est and friendliest manner.

“Why, yes Mcßae! I do ’ remember now! But you’ve altered. Haven’t you shaved your moustache or something?” “I never wore one,” said the man almost curtly. Then it dawned on Lorna that he had lost an arm. Her face softened magically, and she touched his empty sleeve for a second.

“Did you go back to France, then?” she said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, and got this a few days before we called a halt,” he said. He came closer.

“Lorna!” he implored, but Lorna had pulled herself together again, and did not seem to hear. She even moved away and joined her friend, and soon they were off again.

Lorna knew Ljndsay Mcßae was doing his best to keep near her, but she persistently avoided any chance of being left alone with him, and after a while he gave it up. Presently she could hear her brother laughing and talking with him, and suddenly she envied Eric. “That’s the second time you’ve ignored my remarks,” complained Alma, are you dreaming about? That wasn’t an old love, by any chance, was it ?” “It didn’t look like it, did it?” parried Lorna. “As a matter of fact though, I did know him before, years ago. He was wounded and came to our hospital.” “—and fell in love with Nurse Mansfield,” finished Alma. “Now I come to think of it, I’m sure his manner was too earnest for a casual acquaintance! And that’s why he’s been trying to “but in” to our party for the last hour. You introduced him to me, but it wasn’t me he wanted to talk to. Listen to him now, honey, getting brother Eric on his side,” teased Alma.

“Don’t be such an idiot, Alma,” Lorna said sharply. “From what I remember of Lindsay Mcßae, that earnest manner of his, is meant to impress every susceptible member of our sex he speaks to.” “Oh, just out for fun?” said Alma, dismissing him. “Just Jor fun!” echoed Lorna, and lapsed into silence.

Five years! and still, like the spineless creature she was she must gq caring

for him, knowing him, worthless! Five years ago! How it 'all came back to her. What a dear he had been. How brave all those poor lads, some of them hopeLessly maimed. Mcßae’s had been a long case, but 'they were able to save the leg. At length he was hobbling round on crutches. When he was convalescent she had seen quite a lot of him, had allowed him to see her home a few times, laughing at his description of how’ he “sneaked past the guard.” Then one night when she was on duty, Mcßae and a couple of other lads who had had leave came in. She marvelled at his height she remembered. Returning from a visit to one of the outside patients, she had encountered him, and he had implored her to speak to him. He wanted to tell her he was to go away on the morrow. He’d be out with the other chaps in the fray in a month perhaps. W’ould she be his sweetheart, engaged to him? Here he had slipped an unaccustomed arm (as she thought) round her.

Then had come sudden inteiruption Sister had come upon them and there had been a great rumpus. Lorna took the reproof calmly. On leaving Sister, she met* another V.A.D. who put a sympathetic arm through hers. “Been on the mat?” she enquired. But Lorna did not give her much satisfaction. "Just been out with my pet boy,” volqnteered Nina Abbott. “I wanted to go to the Gaiety, but no theatres for Lindsay when there are nice secluded spots elsewhere!”

“Whom did you say you went with?” asked Nursgr' Mansfield blankly. That dear boy’s words were still ringing in her

“Lindsay,” guilelessly answered the other. “Lindsay Mcßae, that lovely tall boy in‘Ward Four,” and on she prattled. He had asked her to marry him, etc. Lorna had listened dumbly. It never occurred to her to doubt the girl. Next day Nurse Mansfield left for her Aunt’s home in the country on some excuse. The lovely place was thrown open to convalescents and she found pienty to occupy her time. But that ache in her heart—!

The guic’.? passed the word down that they would be at the hut in half an hour. The rain had ceased and a thousand birds were twittering. The hills across the valley deeply green, stood out in sharp relief against the distant mountains, grey, shading to purest white, their tops hidden in mist and cloud. Waterfalls splashed everywhere, and the valley was filled with the sound of rushing water.

The’hut at last, and inside the wet and suddenly-wearj- travellers spied a huge log fire. Though it was summer, th»?re was, a chill in the evening air, here, close in under the mountains, that made the blaze in the cavernous rough stone fireplace, very inviting. The caretaker and his wife soon brought in the evening meal. “Imagine those poor creatures back there in Dunedin at dinner,” Eric said as the meal proceeded, “toying with their food. The simple life for mine,” and he fell to again. Mcßae was puzzled. When Lorna did meet his eyes, she was apparently so unselfconscious that he wondered. “Can she have forgotten?” he thought. “No, it’s not possible.” But there was no opportunity for a word with her in thia confounded place. He must wait. Next morning they set off early. They were to climb The Pass, a formidable barrier between them and the sea-coast. It was visible now from the door of the hut, a natural letter V between two towering peaks, and covered in snow.

They reached the top at midday. A cairn simply inscribed had been erected there in memory of the man who had discovered the pass years ago. The whole world seemed white. Peak after peak shone out against a leaden sky. It was intensely cold. The view was magnificent. They gaz-ed for miles down a deep gorge, at the bottom of which a stream threaded its way. The guide pointed out the downward track, away to their right. “Five miles down, and we’re at the next hut,” he said. Eventually they began the descent, onc« more in single file. Their feet sank deep in the snow at every step, but it was easier going than before. Somehow (perhaps only Lindsay Mcßae could have told how) Lorna found herself last with Mcßae in front of her. Aa they rounded a knoll they came upon a clump of mountain daisies, rearing theif starry heads through th e snow. Lorna was enraptured, and sudden inspiration dawned in th.? breast of Lindsay Mcßae! “Let’s pick some .and take them to Mrs; Hut—Lady,” he suggested. “Yes,” agreed Lorna delightedly, “and we’ll decorate the dinner table. Nice long stalks if you can.”

He took so long delving with a huge vil-lianous-looking pocket knife • that Lorna protested, “Hurry up, w c mustn’t lose the other folk!”

Mcßae straightened his back at handing her the exquisite blooms. Hel cheeks were rosy again and her eyes starry as the flowers. He stood before her a gazing his fill.

“You are lovely!” jerked out the man, and Lorna, suddenly panic-stricken made as if to pass him. But the man stood like a rock in her path. “You remembered me,” he blurted, “yet you persist in avoiding me! Why? In Heaven’s name, why?”

Lorna’s heart thumped. “We were such friends before,” he went on, “and sunely I didn’t insult you that night! It was a bit sudden I know, but,” whimsically, “I’d had no practice in that sort of thing—.”

Lorna’s head went up at that. “Did you, or did you not go out with Nurse Abbott that night, and ask her to marry you?”

. “Nur;?e Abbott! Mdßae’« face was a study. “Nurse Abbott. Which was she’ I remember. Why I hardly ever spoke to b?r. Couln’t stand the girl. Good Lord! What made you think such a thing “Oh,” said the girl feeling rather foolish now, and certain there was some big mistake somewhere, “a few minutes after our talk that night, Nurse Abbott told m? she’d been out with you, that you’d asked her to marry you, and all that,” and I thought it was, well, perhaps a habit of yours!”

His one hand shot out to her shoulder. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to love me, or to marry,7 and his earnest eyes held hers. “Say you believe me,” he demanded.

“I do,” said Lorna, feeling gather small. “Unfortunately I believed Nurse Abbott too!” His hand tightened. “We couldn’t go back to where we left off that night could we? Certainly,” and he looked about him, “conditions are not quite the same! But my feelings are—no, even they are not, they’ve increased so! What’s that?” and he bent his head.

Closer still and his hand on her shoulder was a caress now, and his voice a caress as he bent his head close to her lips. “Say it again, Lorrfa, what is it?”

“Another thing that’s not quite the same,” breathed Lorna against his cheek. ‘You had—your arm —round me that night!”