"CHRISTABEL"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 15 July 1939, Page 12

"CHRISTABEL"

Published by Special Arrangement. Copyright.

By

PEARL BELLAIRS.

(Author of “Velvet and Steel,” “The Prisoner’s Sister,” etc.)

CHAPTER XXIV. (Continued). But there was a revulsion of feeling in her against the idea of marrying Cavanagh so soon. The day was not far away; and meanwhile her heart followed the music, the Chopin prelude. desired only to be lost in the lovely melancholy, the mysterious rapture —which was here in the music, but not to be found in the marriage . . Her fingers trailed from the keys and sitting back she said: “I’m sorry, Arthur! I'm tired, too; I shall play abominably if I go on!” She stared before her, wondering whether what she was going to do was right; was she being fair to Cavanagh? “You look so very charming sitting like that at the piano,” he said breaking in ori her thoughts. “Just sit there so that I can look at you." "How dos you feel?” asked Christabel, noticing with anxiety that his face was a rather bad colour, and his eyes were dull and tired. “Not very well, darling.” “Oh. Arthur! Can I do anything 0 Ought you to take something?" ' “No, no!" he assured her. “I have some tablets, but I left them in town. I must really pull myself together, because I have to open an exhibition of pictures tonight. At the Morland Gallery. Serge Wolf, who’s having a show there, is something of a protege of mine; and altogether I can’t possibly get out of it.” But Cavanagh never attended his picture exhibition. He and Christabel returned to town, and after he had dropped her at Barking he returned to the Hotel Beauleigh intending to dress to go out. He was getting to the lift to go up to his suite, wnc-n he had a seizure and collapsed. He was taken to his room, unconscious, and his physician, Sir Brian Kellynch, was sent for immediately. Sir Brian came, and an hour later, still unconscious, Cavanagh was taken to a nursing home in Portland Place. CHAPTER XXV. It broke shatteringly into the argument which Christabel was still carrying on with Hewitson in her own mind; it cut across the world of stormy fanstasy in which she was living, like a flash of lightning from the real sky. this disaster striking down someone so near to Gier as Cavanagh had become.

She was fetched from Barking by Lee. Cavanagh’s private secretary, at five o’clock in the morning. Cavanagh, conscious, but half paralysed and seriously ill, was asking for her. Christabel was speechless with regret and anxiety. Lee himself looked white and worried, and even though they were almost complete strangers to one another, their silence was not without sympathy. The car took them swiftly into town through the long shadows and sun rays that lay, as brightly as though nothing had happened, across the deserted streets. At the nursing home Christabel was left to wait in one of those stately rooms of the Portland Place neighbourhood; live minutes later Cavanagh's physician appeared, complete to j the knife-edged crease in his striped trousers, though it was not yet six in the morning. He shook her hand deferentially. “There is no cause for immediate alarm. Miss Collet. But I'm afraid you must realise that he is gravely ill. At the moment the paralysis is the trouble, and of course, we can only' hope that time will answer that. He has asked for you several times, and seems very anxious to see you—most fortunate that Mr Lee was able to ge hold of you so soon! If you would care to go up now you can say a few words to him.” Cavanagh lay in a room on the first floor, his face as white as the pillow on which his head was lying, except for ■a tracery of dark veins on his forehead. His eyes, heavily bloodshot, were no longer Cavanagh's eyes, but those of a very sick man. He turned his head a little when Christabel came in, and lifted his hand feebly. Io take hers. "My dear, how good of you to come!" His voice was faint and hoarse. "I came the moment 1 heard! Oh. Arthur, dear——!" She bent and kissed his forehead. The nurse who was watching drew unobtrusively away from the bedside. His hand gripped hers, he seemed to try to speak, failed, and murmured so lew that she had to bend her head to hear what he said: “Our trip to America ——“ “We’ll have it yet—when you're better! It’s only postponed.” lie smiled faintly, then his face became a blank and he stared upward at the ceiling with fixed eyes. “Arthur!" she whispered, half in fear. The eyes turned towards her, the lip:; formed the words: “Don't go!" "I won't go. dear. I'll be here if you want me.” She stayed for five minutes, holding his hand silently, while again ho seemed to forget her. his eyes closed, and now and again he breathed slertorously. She left when Sir Brian Kellynch came in witli a consultant physician, and on Hie way down the stairs she met Miss Cavanagh. Miss Cavanagh was pale and her face looked blanker than ever with anI xiet.v. When Christabel told her that Sir Brian had asked her to stay about the nursing home if she could in case Cavanagh asked for her again. Miss Cavanagh repeated: "Yes. please stay; please stay in case he wants you!” They waited together in the wailingroom, Christabel trying to read the | periodicals on the table; once Miss ■ Cavanagh said in a voice so full of | emotion that Christabel wa: surprised:

“Poor Arthur!” Later, after she had come down from seeing her brother she suggested, tremulously, that Christabel should go with her to her hotel for some breakfast. Christabel went with her; and in the surroundings of heavy, respectable grandeur which Miss Cavanagh patronised, she managed to drink seme coffee; Miss Cavanagh took some pills and picked al an egg. Christabel’s heart was heavy for Cavanagh. After all the plans he had made —somehow she did not think of them as her own plans too—this was a bitter tragedy. And she wondered, too, what she would do. She had no job, and she was no longer to be married next week. Her twenty pounds would nut last for ever. There was nothing to lie done though, for everyone seemed to expect her to wait at the nursing home. The news of Cavanagh's illness had been kept out of the morning papers; but it appeared at midday, and within an hour his sister-in-law, Mrs Hartley Cavanagh rang the nursing home. Rather unwisely, the matron told her that no one was allowed to see Mr Cavanagh except his sister, and ‘his fiancee," Miss Collet. "Fiancee, did you say?” repeated Mrs Hartley Cavanagh, too taken aback to hide her astonishment. She rang Miss Cavanagh at her hotel ton minutes later; and after condoling with her, began on the subject at once. “I rang the nursing home at once—as scon as I heard, i was told that I was not allowed to see him; but they said that some young woman—his fiancee, they said —had been allowed to do so. Arthur is not engaged, is he? I know nothing about it!” “Of, yes, Muriel, that’s quite true," replied Miss Cavanagb. "It was a secret, because of the newspapers, but he was to have been married next week. To a Miss Collet.” “Eve heard nothing about it! Who is she?” “A Miss Collet, Muriel." “What Miss Collet? Who are the Collets?” “Why, I don't know much about it. She was nursing, you know, at Arthur's camp down at Kearne, and. his car knocked her down.” "That young person! A nurse! Good Heavens, Dora! But are you sure they were engaged? Are you sure she isn’t imposing on you. A man with all Arthur's money !' Mrs Cavanagh went on for some lime about the danger in which a man with all Arthur’s money was likely to be from unscrupulous women. But Miss Cavanagh was very vague. She had always trusted Arthur’s judgment, and found it difficult to mistrust it then. After working herself up into a state of great, anxiety lest, some “unscrupulous person” should influence her brother-in-law before she died—Mrs Cavanagh convinced herself that he must be dying—she went round to the nursing home. She talked to the matron about Cavanagh’s condition; and afterwards she asked the nurse who took her downstairs: “Is Miss Collet here?” “Yes, Mrs Cavanagh. Miss Collet is in our other waiting room.” "I think 1 would like to see her before I go!” Mrs Cavanagh said. The nurse led her to the small sitting room where Christabel, was waiting. Mrs Cavanagh introduced herself. She saw at once, as she told many other people afterwards, that Miss Collet, 'or whatever she called herself.’ was a dangerous person. Those sad, enigmatic eyes in that beautiful pale face —the only word that Mrs Cavanagh could find to describe them was sly.' “Miss Collet, I believe? I am. Mrs Hartley Cavanagh. Very kind of you in interest yourself in my poor broth-er-in-law!"

She managed to convey by her manner as much comment as she could on the impertinence of Christabel having done so.

The unexpected appearance of this imposing woman with her hostile eyes, ii’d stout, expensive looking figure, .uok Christabel aback. She had not been thinking of Cavanagh's relatives, .inly of Cavanagh himself, and wondering a little about her own uncerain future. She defended herself before she realised that she was being deliberately insulted. “He asked for me." she explained. "Yes. you were here very early, I understand!” remarked Mrs Cavanagh, and added v/ith a sort of acid affability, "Well it's very kind of you. I’m :ure. Miss—Miss Collet! If he asks for you again we will send for you. So there is really no need for you to staj’ any longer!” Christabel, wounded and humiliated, summoned all the dignity she could. -I was told by Sir Brian Kellynch that I had better wait,” she said. "But if you think it best I will go." And she walked out immediately so that it might bo soon that she was not going to hesitate. Mrs Cavanagh followed her. If his family had taken charge and she was not wanted, Christabel felt that she could not stay: bul still if Cavanagh wanted her. then she ought to stay. With an anxious, humiliated face. Christabel stopped a nurse who was going upstairs with a tray. "Could you tell the matron for me that Mrs Hartley Cavanagh though it best for me to go? Mr Lee knows where to find me if I’m wanted. “That's quite all right!” interposed .Mrs Cavanagh officiously. But the nurse understood the message and she said: "Very well. I'll mention it to matron."

(To be Continued.)