“THE PRIDE OF LOVE.”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 305, 26 December 1936, Page 7

“THE PRIDE OF LOVE.”

A THRILLING SERIAL STORY—

By

COMPTON IRVING

CHAPTER I. Love Knocks. “What does she want to go swim- ' ming before breakfast for?” protested the aristocratic-looking Mrs Mervyn Fenner, as she and her husband looked out of their bedroom window at the graceful girl hurrying across the law.) to the river. “ She goes on as though sh*> were ; one of the family, in>t f ad of you;’: nursemaid,” remarked tier husband. | “ Still, it’s not our house,” said his 1 wife. “And if that old fool of a j brother of yours gives her permission, : we can’t stop her." “ A jolly good thing when the old j fool is dead and done for!” he growled, j “ Even then his two sons, Eric and George, come before you for the title." .Mrs Fenner sighed heavily. “ Well, I I suppose we ought !o be grateful that he has made you his agent, and —as he reminded us once—allows us to live hero at Fenner Hall, rent free'" “As for that nursemaid, she simply spoils Bobby,” he gi’s v’eti. " All she seems to think of is to make him fonder of herself than of us." Betty Wane, the object -of their joint indignation, went serenely on her way through the glorious spring sunshine to the river. She never dreamed that Mrs Mervyn Fenner haled her for that very reason. Arrived at the river-bank Belly let her rainproof fall to her feet, kicked off her shoes, ran to the end of the diving-board, and stood poised ready for the dive. Standing there in her slim beauty she looked part of this wonderful morning with its glorious sunlight and gorgeous colourings. Splash! Another moment and she reappeared and set off with 'her fast over-arm stroke across the river and back. It. was rather a surprise as she beIo climb out, to see framed In the doorway of the summer-house, i oung man. also in swimming dress. Betty was in two minds whether to o back into the water. What was ihis young man doing undressing In I he Fenner Hall summer-house? ' You know you’re trespassing, I uppose?’’ she said coldly. The young man threw back his head nd laughed. It. was a very joyous nigh, she decided. “Sir John is frightfully down on rcspassers,” she added, hurriedly, i nd as sternly as she could. "Look!" \nd she pointed to the painted no!rrs: "No Mooring": "No Landing”; ' No Bathing From This Lawn." Once again he laughed, his blue \es dancing, and his fair hair flung ick in sheer delight. "If I’m trespassing, how about : ui ?’’ he demanded. " I have permission from Sir John ’enner, who owns all this." she said. ilh a rather triumphant toss of her a ad. “So that’s all right, ’’ he said, ’hen. with an impish laugh: "You'll lot ] p t on about me?” “ Very well," she agreed, and she alked along- I lie diving-board for Just ip more dip before going back. " Can you do the Jack-knife dive?" i asked, eagerly. Betty was by no means sure she •ight to encourage him. " When I said I wouldn’t tell Sir ibn. I didn't mean you could come nd swim here again,” she reminded *in. " You mean Ibis must by my last ime?” he said, his face falling. “ I’m afraid so," she said firmly. " Otherwise, you feel you would :avp Io tell Sir John.” " Yes." “ I see." he said. “ It’s really very •.ice of you to allow me Io swim this Horning." " Now you're undressed, all ready, !, would be a shame to stop you.” "Thank you!" he said, a twinkle ) his eye. " Well, to get back to the ack-knife: can you do it?” She said she, couldn't, so he instantly howed her how it was done, and vhen she tried it he declared she was •eiTect. They then swam up the river Io •ether and he was so warm in praise if her swimming that she felt quite iverwhelmed. And now he suggested a race back ‘o their starling place. What an exiting scramble it was! And she -cached the bank Just one second before he did. "You've won!" he cried. " I believe you let. me,” she challenged. “ I'd never forgive you if he did!" Then she laughed. They were behaving Just as though they were lifelong friends. It was the swimming, of course. All the usual barriers seemed to have suddenly gone down. "Honest! You really beat me," he sa ld. “ I admit I’m not in practice though. I promise to beat you one of these days." They were hanging on, each one side of the landing ladder, and Betty saw him really close for the flrsi time- She decided that she liked what she saw. She climbed out now. "What about to-morrow morning?’ he urged, following her. " But this was to be your last time,’ she sternly reminded him. At that the young man laughed until he fell helplessly to the soft grass “ I don’t see anything funny,” she said. Icily. She very much feared he was laughing at her, and. pulling her rainproof round her she turned to go. “ You’re never going to desert me?" he cried. “1 say, about to-morrow morning. Will it be O.K. with you if I get Sir John's permission?" "Why, of course!" she said, flushing. "That's a dale," he cried, disappearing into the summer-house- “ By the way, who are you?" he called presently. His voice sounded muffled as though he might be towelling his head or pulling on his shirt. ‘ Betty didn’t reply. She felt she : couldn’t tell him—not Just yet. i " I remember Lady Grenham had a - bevy of growing daughters,” he went | on. “ You’re not one of her crowd, by any chance?" I “No,” said Betty. “I—l think I

must be going." " Oh, but we ought to introduce ourselves," he protested. So eie goes. 1 happen to be Sir John s younger son, George, back for a 10 day after three years in bourn America." , <»,, “Sir George’s son!" cried Bel., alarmed. George Fenner laughed hea 7’ l -: “ Forgive me," U»c cried- ' you told me I was trespassing I sim P > couldn’t disillusion you. You sounded so very prim and stern." Betty coloured up holly. She le strangely 'humiliated. What wouia he think of her when he knew she wa nursemaid to his uncle’s child; " Well, aren’t you going to tell me who you are?” he said. “ I can e you I never expected to butt into anything nearly so exciting as you, on my first morning home." „ “ I’ve got a confession to make, said Betty, al last. "It mighty to amuse you," she added, unHiappilj. “ I live al Fenner Hall, loo.’’ " What?" he cried, staring at her. “ I’m nursemaid Io Mr Mervyn s little boy." “ Good Lord 1" There was a dramatic silence. “ I suppose you’ll hardly care o swim with me to-morrow morning, in that case?" he said- „ “ I suppose that will be best, she agreed. “ Still, I don't want to miss my swim,” she added, naively. sir John told me I could swim every morning, so long as it wasn't after eight o’clock." “ iOh!’’ protested the young man, rather huffily. “What you mean Is. you don't want to swim (before eight o'clock. Is that it?” "Oh, no!" she cried. "Please! It’s your father’s house. You’ve the right to swim at whatever time you like.” “Then I think I’ll swim before eight, o'clock, too," he said. “That is, if you agree?" He had just appeared st the door of the summer-house, and as her eyes met his, hers fell in confusion. " I can't slop you, can I? ’ she said, and she wondered if she had said it Just a. little too saucily. Al any rale she just had to fly. Lovers' Meetings. Morning after morning those Iwo swam together, and Belly had soon to confess to herself that she was falling in love. Certainly they speedily became vcr\ good friends, and never once was there any thought of class distinctions between them. It was as though ali such tilings were swept aside. So far as they were concerned she was a beautiful young girl with a skin oi ivory-white, and a body as gloriously formed as that of any aristocrat* that ever lived, a face as lovel> as could be found, and a mind as pure and sweet and kind as God ever made, while he was just a handsome, wellmade, clean-minded young man. He confided in her that he washortly due to return to his post in Soiilli America. He told her that his Uncle Mervyn would 'be glad to see him gone. lie 'haled his nephew George. Indeed, his chief grievance against fate was that two lives sloo: between himself and jlhe title an< properly—George, and his cider brother Eric, who, also a roamer, wa.out at Malta. " Your brother Eric comes into a’, your father’s money, as well as tin lille?" asked Belly. “ The Fenner property always goeIo the eldest son," explained George " I have to be satisfied with what 1 can earn. Of course 1 might manage Io be perfectly happy if I would b< content to spend the rest of my dayover there in South America." "And shouldn’t you care for that?" she asked"I don't suppose it would mailer where one lived, if it was with th'' right male." he said, tentatively. Their eyes met, and presently hers fell before his ardent gaze. "Oh, I’m sure it wouldn’t," she said softly. " Nothing would.’’ '• Besides, out there there is no nonsense about class distinctions," he went on. " A man is just a man—and the same with Hie girl. Everybody is ' taken al their true value." Betty still could not meet his eyes. She knew that she loved him. always would, all her life. Her heart was ' beating almost painfully. Oh, if onl> he would ask her Io go out there will; him! She would almost die from >heer happiness. "When I do go back, I’m afraid ’ shall miss our morning chats frightfully,” he said, lamely. "I shall—loo —awfully!’’ she said ‘rankly, if rather faintly. Oh. if onl} he would ask her! She would go, s<_ gladly! George cleared his throat. She wa;making it easier for him. “ I wish I'd tried Io save,” he said, looking at her hesitantly. " You know I’m afraid I'm going to miss you terribly, Belly." Belly fell, herself flushing. She wouldn’t find a word to say. " I’ve nothing to offer a girl,” he went on. Betty only smiled. She'd have gone uiywhere—will) George ! " But I’d be a cad to lake a girl out here, when I’ve no real prospects." io said, as though lliinking aloud. 'No, Belly, I’d better go out and .lake good first- Then perhaps ’.city, I wonder—perhaps you’d come ■nd join me?" “Oh, I would!” she cried. “I’d N'«l love it—really 1 should!” “Betty!" he cried. “Oh, Betty! How I love you, dear!’’ And he took bcr in his arms and held her close. “I love you, too, George!" she Aliispered, happily, proudly, and she held up her lips for him to kiss. “My darling little Betty!" he cried. ’’ I'll soon get a home together out there, and then I’ll send for you, dear." “Oh, George!" she whispered, as once again his lips closed on hers’. They stood thus for some time without speaking. Indeed, their love needed no words. (To be continued).