“The PAINTED LILY”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 80, Issue 248, 19 October 1937, Page 3

“The PAINTED LILY”

Romantic Serial Story - - by ii i

Olive Wadsley

The War had done that, cut clean • cross Ids life, but not across his love. He had never had a leave for a year, and he had written to Iris every day, and she had written to him, sent him gifts; once she had come to Paris, and he had moved heaven and earth, get two days at last, dashed there, ol course, to find she had not waited; later she had wired she had been called back very urgently.

He had gone home at lasi, and driven straight to Curzon Street, and met Fordyce Carter, who had been sitting in the place where he had been wont to sit, and it had seemed to Ronnie as if the same tune were being played by Iris. She had been sweet to him, in that queer, teasing way she had, halfmocking, half-tender, and had looked divine, as thin as ever, as beautiful, as wonderfully dressed. She had never given him a minute alone, nor did she later. He had understood at last, gone off to Charters, stayed out his leave there, gone back to France without returning to London. And at last he had got over it—but it had taken about ffve years. He had forgotten Dixon. Vai, the problem he had come out to solve; as he started down the hill he remembered it all again when he saw Jim slouch out of the hut, and cross to the men’s diggings. No more “diggings,*’ a bunk for a bed, two blankets for coverings, a common washstand—lf he married Vai; instead, his old rooms at Charters, the old servants back to wait on him, a cool dignity of life, a graciousness of living. “We can talk it out fairly, she and I —l’ll tell her she’s free absolutely—that I’ll make no claim, that we’re just the best of pals—lt ought to work.” He stood still, searened in his pockets, found a dime, aid grinned as he spun It: “Heads 1 do —tails I don’t! - ’ He felt his heart beat a bit as he held the coin covered, then he lifted Ins right hand. It was heads. He went at a swing down the hill, and entered the hut. Dixon was alone, a half emptied bottle of whisky beside him. “Well?” he demanded. Ronnie nodded. “I accept.” He went close to the bed and lifted Dixon’s hand, and held it in bls own cool, hard grasp. “It’ll be on the level, Bully, absolutely. pH do my best, and i’f things don’t work easily after a couple ol years, I’ll free Vai. I shall always be her friend, and loyal to her interests. Dixon made no answer for a moment, then he said huskily; “Get me that paper thai’s folded in my pocket, will you?” Ronnie brought it, opened it out. “And a pen,” Dixon said. He could Just hold the pen, but he signed his name blackly. “That’s my will,” he’ said; the pen slid from his fingers. “Now there’s only the sheriff to get busy. Vai ” She came In as he called, dressed still in white riding things, and in the mean little room her beauty seemed to blaze as a vivid flower does at dusk. She looked at Ronnie and smiled enchantlngly, It was he who felt shy, he knew' the blood ran up in a hot wave under his skin. “Got It all fixed, hev you?” Vai asked, and laughed a little*. “Yep,” her father said, “an’ now you , and Ron can get fixed too, the sooner the better ” “I guess we can arrange all that a bit later,” Vai said gen Hy. “You send Jim now,” her father ordered. “I'll go,” Ronnie said quickly, “it’s only a two hours’ ride.” “Yep, It Is only a two hours’ ride, but a horse might savage you same’s it savaged me,” Dixon said sombrely. “You'll wait here—you and Vai, Jim ll fetch the sheriff.” Ronnie laughed out suddenly, a verv pleasant, cheery laugh, and unwittingly Dixon smiled In response; his one hope was to be able to hang on, to keep control over his suffering until Vai was “safe” as he termed it to himself. “You’ll best redd up the place for the weddin’,” he said to Vai, unconsciously using old north country words. Vai smiled her enchanting smile again at Ronnie. “Come on, Ron, let’s have a swell weddin’ with all the fixings 1” Ronnie made a dive later for the men’s quarters, he took out a white shirt and looked at it, and thought of the men's derision, and grinned a bit to himself—a lounge suit and a Jermyn Street shirt here —and his old colours? Finally he put on a tussore shirt, and the tie, and his only other pair of riding breeches. Jim came in. panting: “The boss is yellin’ for you—sheriff’s come ’’ "Righto, i’m ready,” Ronnie said. He saw the festoons of bougainvi’v\i blossom on the bare, wooden wans, poor Dixon’s white, savage face trying to smile, and then, suddenly, Vai* in the first dress he had ever known her wear. It was quite simple, and it was white, and she wore a string of pearls her father had sent for when he had made his pile. “Get on with it—get on with It,” Dixon ordered irritably. "Sure, sure,” the sheriff agreed resoundingly; he favoured Ronald with a wide grin. “Pleased to meet you, Mr Sands, and on such an auspicious occasion. We none of 11s get married every day! Now, your full name, please—slowly,

<sn's 1 can got il written down. Ready: Innaid Menzies llardwicke Sands—Gee. they wasn’t stingy whe n they christened you. Mr Sands! Father’s Jnb — soldier, landowner, mother daughter of Earl of Kcsteven —Is that so? Now, if that ain’t Interesting. An’ you don’t get no title?” He looked "up, and smiled at Vai: "Well, Vai, he’s certainly the classy goods, an’ if you like that sort 0’ thing, well, search me for a better wedding present I” “The whole affair’s like a musical comedy wedding,” Ronnie found himself thinking, he wished it were all over. "G’wan, take her hand,” the sheriff urged loudly.

Ronald look Vai’s hand, and slipped his signet ring on her finger, and smiled down at her. Dixon saw him smile, and his lace relaxed, and lost its intensity; lie let ’i.insclf sink on to his pillows. It was quite dark now, and one of Him boys switched on tlie light. “Case of champagne,” Dixon murmured, "keys ” he fumbled under , iii 4 pillow, ‘and handed Hie bunch of keys to Ronnie, “in Hie stores,” he ridded. "Right. I’ll get it,” Ronnie said. He was glad to feci the fresh, cool night wind on his face, for a moment, and to get away, he started violently as a hand touched his, slid into it. "14’8 only me, Vai whispered; she pulled him’to a standstill by slinging to bis hand, and not moving herself. "Ron.” "Vai!” he felt desperately shy—half a million! —it cramped a man's style, cut off his sense of freedom pretty quickly-, he said gently: “What is It?” Her face was lifted to his, he could see the extraordinary blackness of tlie long lashes against her cheeks, the parted lips, her hand tightened in his. “Ron, there’s something I want to tell you—must ” In the doorway of the hut. Labin, the sheriff was standing and calling: “Ron —Vai ” "Il’s daddy,” Vai gasped. She ran ahead of Ronnie, he reached the hut to see her kneeling beside Dixon’s bed, her arms about him. Above her hear! buried on her father's shoulder, the sheriff looked al him wilh shrewd, kindly eyes. Ronnie bent over her, and lifted her to h’er feel. CHAPTER HI. "Well, 1 dunnol” Ronnie said to himself at lhe end of the first day. He stood outside the hut gazing wearily into the gold-tinted, distance. The funeral was over, nothing now kept him here, yet his gentle, “What about, our getting a move on, Vai, dear?” had been met with a storm of tears, a torrent of reproach. “Leave here just the minute Dad's been buried —just leave him—like —■ that—alone the first second we can. . . . You can go whenever you like, anywhere you like, but I am going to stay and—and settle things up.” “All right,” Ronnie had agreed instantly—and he had left it at that. Now he stood, a vista of empty, torrid days ahead of him, and for the life of him he could not see where the sense of It came in. . . . Poor old Bully had been buried, so why hang on, when obviously there was nothing to hang on for?” And, on the other hand, a mass of business was walling for both Vai and himself in New York that would take some weeks —and then England—Charters.

England meant Charters for Ronnie; he had liked London, but his roots were In Charters for all time, the roots of his happiness, all that was best, kindest, most, sporting in him. He withdrew his gaze from the empty, rocky waste before him and turned back into the room. Vai was lying In the big armchair.. She looked, Ronnie thought, very little and forlorn and young, and that realisation blotted ’out the worried exasperation he had felt after her refusal to leave the hut.

Ho went across to her, and offered her a cigarette. She took one languidly. "You mad at me?” she asked. Ronnie smiled. "Good Lord, no, but I’m a bit worried about you. I know everything’s rotten here for you, old lady, and no one seems able to do much to help you. I only sugested our leaving for New York because I thought getting away—the travelling and all that—might—well, take your mind off things ' a bit.” "I feel sort of numb,” Vai said pill- ; fully, and lifted eyes to Ronnie which . looked like blue hyacinths after rain.! Be wondered almost desperately if he i might kiss her, and decided against it. I Life had been such a miserable rush I since the wedding: he didn’t know 1 what Vai might feel about it all. and ! somehow her dcfencelessness, her sor- I row, her youth, made him feel very shy i about her. He sat down on the edge of her j chair, and put an arm about her. The ! eyes raised to his drooped, Vai gave a j little weary sigh, and settled down against that encircling arm. j They sat in silence, and the sun slid ; away behind the mountains, and tlie twilight came down in veils of drifting | lilac. Ronnie went on thinking about Char- I tors: the whole left wing could be re- i novated now, and Hie gallery opened 1 up again, and the stables. lie bit on ; his pipe suddenly. By Jove—he’d . have perfect stables—and hunters I , "Ron,” tlie whisper just reached • him. “Hullo, awake?” he said cheerily.

“I wasn’t asleep. Say, Ron ” Vai knelt up suddenly in the big chair, her face nearly level with Ronnie’s, so that he could Just see its small, white outline. Her eyes looked very big and dark. “Steady,” he said, pulling his arm round her to hold her. "You’re a little thin thing, Vai, aren’t you—as my old Nanna used to tell me when I was a kid—you’ll meet her—and I used to copy her and say, "Poo’ little 'fin ’ling!”’ Vai gave a shaky laugh, too. She put up a tentative hand, and arranged (he front of Ronnie’s polo collar. “It nil been so strange,” she said. “T guess Il’s been just like a nightmare. I never believed Dad ’ud go nut like Hint. It. was all nf a shock In me. Rnn. yon know that night wp were married, when the Sheriff called us because of Dad ” “Yes, 1 remember.” Ronnie said, "you wanted tn tell me something. Tell me now, won't you?” Vai’s head was bent; he could no longer see her eyes, but he felt, lhe slenderness within his hold tremble a very little, and somehow that very faint trembling touched him, stirred him profoundly; he was nearer to Vai In that moment than he had ever been “Tell me, Vai,” he urged softly. be continued.) ’

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