”STORM DRIVEN,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 20 December 1932, Page 7

”STORM DRIVEN,”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

Cl IA PTE It XIV.—Con ti n ued. Tony forced himself to talk as they climbed, so that lie shouldn’t think. Pat asked him what part, of the world he came from and l he told her Canada. She said they were cousins then, since she was born in the States. They entered the walled-in fruit garden through the old familiar black door. Everything was in perfect, condition. He remembered tbo great, walnut tree and stopped a moment to look at it. lie asked how it was bearing. “Last year it was splendid. We ’ro very proud of our gardens; if you’re interested in old places you must look round Da no Court. It dates back to the sixteenth century.” They found the Bergsons and Brandt on the terrace; a servant- had .just brought out cocktails. When Bergson introduced Tony, Brandt at once asked if they hadn’t met before. •‘ .1 never forget faces, but I can t quite place your’s. ” “J. did call on you once, in Xew York, merely to deliver a message. It would be rather remarkable if you did remember mo. ’ ’ <‘Of course!” Brandt said, and handed him a cocktail. lit' glanced quickly at Pat, who smiled at him: then she turned to Ton'- and he saw an expression in her eyes that baffled him. The warmth and colour had gone out of them. They were hard, and he felt they wore asking him something, or imposing silence on him. “I remember,” she said, “though I never met you. I’m glad to have the chance at last of thanking von for — the trouble you took, Captain Daw- | son. ’ ’

“Now, isn’t, that wonderful?” Bergson said. “We’re all friends. What a. small world it is, and what a pleasant one.” He raised his glass: “Happy days,” and emptied it at a gulp. “This place makes me feel good. Say, I envy you, Brandt; you’re a real lucky man walking straight into an old English home like this, with everything left .just as it has been for hundreds of years.” They went in to luncheon. Tony watched Brandt seat himself in the high-backed chair at the head of Putable where his father had always sat. He found himself next to Pat. It- was like part of his dream come true. They were hero together, breaking bread in his home. Nothing had changed; his memory focussed itself like a brilliant seaffchiiglit on the last time he had lunched there. It was just after he had come down from Cambridge. Not a, detail escaped him, even to the laying of the table, the silver, and the glass. Of course, it was just chance, but there wag a bowl of red roses on the table, yet he found himself wondering foolishly if, perhaps, it was an omen.

After luncheon they drank their coffee, lying in deep-cushioned chairs in the shade in the garden. Brandt told Tony that he’d bo only too glad if he cared to come and fish whenever lie liked. He knew nothing about it himself, and -only preserved the water for his friendis, and was very glad if they could get him a dish of trout sometimes. Bergson stretched out- his legs, looked appreciatively at the glowing end of his Havana cigar and asked Brandt if he could tell him the history of the house. Tony listened in a detached sort of way, feeling as if he were lying in tlio grave hearing life going on all around him, oblivious to the fact that he’d ever existed. “I wonder if I might, have a look round the place,” he' l said. “You \e aroused my curiosity.”

“Certainly.” He half rose, taen dropped back into his chair. “Pat, it’s your property; show Captain Dawson round. ” She got up quickly. “I’d love to. As they walked across the lawn she said: “Shall wo do the gardens first, or aren’t you interested in flowers? “Very interested,” he replied. “ You see, we don’t get them out in Western Canada. What is your favourite flowe r ? ” “I’m not sure. Roses, I think—red roses. ’ ’ CHAPTER NY.

There were many things Tony didn't remember; the Dutch garden with the bird-bath and pond of water-lilies; the hard tennis court; he was quite, sine the orchard had been planted with new trees and that the paddock beyond had been enlarged. Pat introduced him to her favourite horse, a well-built, upstanding grey. “Of course, you ride a lot in Canada?” she asked. Ho nodded. ‘‘Occasionally, when I have to go whore a motor-car won t take me. Don’t look so shocked; 1 love horses, but at my job I hadn't time to love, anything but work, so I just used them * for transport and not for fun I suppose vou hunt with the youth Devon?” She gave him a quick o-iance. He realised how carefully he would have to guard his tongue or he might give himself ii\\. ‘‘l did the first two seasons, but one dav they ran a fox to ground and dug- him! out and threw him to the hounds, and I swore I’d never hunt again. 1 suppose, you think 1 m sentimental but it gave, me a shock. 1 feel no one has the right to take life. Its the unfoirgicable- sin.” Tony turned away quickly. Ihey walked back to the house through a pergola of roses; as they came to the end of it l’at picked a. bud and gave it. to him. ‘‘You said you were fond of llowers. ” . He put- it in his buttonhole without speaking. They were facing one- another. He looked over her head at the moorland, die had been a fool to come back; worse than a. fool—a coward. These few moments alone with Pat made him realise the danger m which they both stood. Tt hadn’t been a romantic, ideal, he had worshipped all these veairs, but, a real (Icsh-and-biood woman. Ho'had really been working and waiting for this moment when they could meet again. And now lie saw the criminal folly of it. All bis pent up emotions and suppressed desires were surging in his blood, pounding at his brain, threatening to break down the control he had imposed on himself. . , . He hadn’t lost his identity, changec. his name and hidden from the world because lie, was afraid of the world’s opinion, or the change that, might be brought against- him. Love had driven, him away, because he was terntied of hurting the thing lie loved. ‘‘Shall we go into the house now. Captain Dawson? The gardens and

BY AH THUS APPLIN. (Author of “The Woman Who Doubted,” “Adventure for Two,” “Her Hidden Husband,” etc).

Yes, there they all hung, just as he remembered them, from the time his father had carried 1 him on his shoulder and told him stories and legends of his race. They looked down on him now, as they had looked down on him then, with mild surprise in their eyes; the men folk a little disapprovingly, the women hopefully—as is the way of women. Last of all, they came to his mother’s. Tony thought, “Perhaps if she had lived longer tilings would have been different.” He was rather afraid to look at this 1 gentle lady, whose arms had held him so proudly, against whose white breast ho had slept. The nudist had given a marble-like texture to her skin, and her hair was the colour of ripe corn.

He heard Pat say: “I love that, best •of all of them.” “Why?” he asked harshly. “•So typically English, and so beautiful. D’you see a likeness to Mr Maimvaring—’ ’ •‘Not the faintest.” He walked to tho foot, of the staircase: “This is a fine piece of work.” They walked up it together. She didn’t show him the secret door in the oak panelling on the iloor above. He ran his linger thoughtfully along the woodwork; probably there was no one living beside himself who knew of it. When they returned to the hall he thanked her and suggested they should join the others. He couldn’t bear any more. She had made him feel that he really was dead and could never come to life again. Everything he’d dreamed of and longed for was dead. “The kitchens are worth seeing, but we can keep that for another day. You’ll come out again, of course?” “D’you want me to?” Some devil must have prompted that question. “Well, we shall be grateful if you get. us a. dish of trout,” she replied carelessly. They were standing outside the library door; it was the only room she hadn’t shown him, and it was famous for its Adams fireplace. “May I go into this room?” lie asked. “If you like. It’s not very interesting—we seldom use it.” lie held the door open for her to go in, and then shut. it. He saw the table at which his father, Deering, and the others had played cards, puslyd into a corner, tho bureau facing him, from which Geoffrey Maimvaring had taken tho pistol—tho vciry rug on which he had fallen still lay in front of the grate. The Virginia creeper which covered this part of the house had been allowed to grow across the windows, darkening the room. Tony tried to find something to say, but he couldn’t. The scene was being enacted again before his eyes. Every incident and detail was more clear and vivid than it had been on tho night- it happened. He heard In’s fathetr’g voice again, threatening to destroy them both. He saw him point the pistol at his own breast. Again lie rushed forward and seized the weapon, to try and save his 1 father, and as ho did so —it went off. Again his father was lying on the rug, looking at him, accusing him of being his murderer.

Why hacl he run away when he know he was innocent? Why? he asked himself bitterly. Perspiration broke out on his forehead; lie pulled his. handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face. Pat was staring at him, her eyes wide open, she walked to the windows and opened them. ‘•lt is -rather hot in here,” she said breathlessly. “This is where Mainwaring shot his father, isn’t, it?” She didn’t reply. ■ • D’you believe lie murdered him ?” “If you don’t mind I’d rather not talk about it. It.’s past and forgotten; too terrible to contemplate now. Shall we go out?” She spoke quietly, almost coldly; outwardly she showed no sign of emotion. She had forgotten. An insane wiivo of selfish jealousy swept over Tony, “Put I want to know what you think,” he cried. “He was my friend, you seP and —” (To bo continued.)

Stables had been terribly neglected when we came, but the interior is just as it was. There are some lovely bits of Jacobean furniture, and the family portraits may interest you—since you knew Mr Main waring. ” He followed Pat without replying, but all his instincts were urging him to go before it was too late, lie no longer trusted himself; he even mistrusted his love. He had been cut off from all polite and refined things, from all intercourse with women for so long. Now that- he was alone with the woman he loved the deep primeval feeling of tlia savage was urging him to defy fate and civilisation, pick her up in his arms and carry her off, careless of what she felt or thought. Obviously she had forgotten him. lie was only a memory. She had learnt to da without him; she was happy. Queer how that knowledge roused the devil in him: I her man. She had, everything in the world a woman could want; probably slic’d be quite happy with Doering. They were in the hall, standing beneath the portrait, of his grandfather, alongside was one of his grandmother. “They are both by famous artists.” Tony smiled. His grandmother had died when ho was a baby, but he remembered his grandfather quite well; a. hard Uvea - , hard drinker, and hard Tory. He was- glad there was no family likeness. “He looks like a. man who always had his own way.” “ That's tho family motto, you know: “We take what we want.” And here’s the Maimvaring who built Dane Court. I forget how many ‘greats’ I ought to give him. It’s a Sir Peter Lely and terribly valuable. We’ve just bad it restored. It was in a dreadful state when eve found it.” “ Yes, I’d no idea it was such a fine picture. ’ ’ She looked at. him frowning. “Do you know it?” He was staring at. the portrait, tracing a resemblance to himself in the eyes set wide apart, the rather crooked nose, and humorous mouth. “I’ve seen reproductions—it’s famous, you know.” “Of course.” She gave a little sigh, crossed the hall, and showed him the other relations and connections.