“Fetters of Silence.”

Waikato Times, Volume 90, Issue 14024, 29 March 1919, Page 3

“Fetters of Silence.”

(All Rights Reserved.)

... ;o; BY HAROLD AVEEY, 1 Author of “An Armchair Adventure,” i‘ Captain Swing," “ Out of the Running," "Fire, Lock, and Steel,” “In Days of Danger," &c. j Published by Special Arrangement. CHAPTER I.—( Continued .) Fortune had not always smiled on Hubert Fane, but to-night it certainly seemed as if the fickle .goddess had at last determined that he should hold all the winning cards in life’s game. At an age when most young men are beginning to feel the burden of life, and to realise how long and steep is the uphill road before them, he found himself possessed of an ample fortune, good health, the promise of the girl he loved to be his w'ife, and an exhibition of such a friendly feeling on the part of her father as to make it evident that no opposition to the match might be expected in that quarter. If he had been free to follow his own Inclinations Hubert would have taken the bull by the horns there and then, and asked the Colonel to sanction the engagement; but the girl herself —perhaps with some vague desire that the secret should remain a secret for a few hours longer—had whispered to him, “Not to-night; speak to him to-morrow.”

Here, certainly, was a serene and unclouded sky, yet it is often just when the heavens appear an unbroken expanse of boundless blue there may be expected to arise above the horizon the little cloud which, though no larger than a man’s hand, foretells the coming of whirlwind and deluge.

The Colonel glanced at his watch, then, rising to his feet, said briefly: “I’ll play you a game of billiards, Hubert —just a hundred up —before we join the ladies.” Had Fane been free to choose, he would no doubt have decided in favour of going at once into the draw-ing-room ; it struck him, however, with some inward feeling of amusement, that to refuse a man so small a favour as a game of billiards when intending to ask him for his daughter’s hand on the following morning, was, to say the least, not politic. Had he been less in love the game would probably have been shorter, for he was a much better player than his host; as it was the score ran up evenly, and stood at 73—69 when the door opened, and Samson entered the room.

“If you please, sir, Mr. Bridgeman has come.”

With an exclamation of impatience the Colonel dropped the butt of his cue on the floor as if he had been grounding a musket. “Bother it all!” he exclaimed. “I’m very sorry, Hubert, but I’m afraid I shan’t be able to finish this game, forgot all about that appointment ’d made with Bridgeman.” “Indeed, sir?” said Hubert, po.ely—though inwardly blessing visitor, whoever he might be.

“Yes, he’s the local Conservative r.gent, and I fixed for him to come here to see me to-night about some village meetings we intend to hold before the elections. Well, you won’t be leaving early, I suppose, And I shall see you again before you go-” "It’s been a jolly close game, sir; I wish you could have stayed to play it out,” said Fane, and turned to replace his cue in the rack with a readiness which somewhat belied the truth of the words he had just spoken. > A quarter of an hour later Sibyl rose from the piano, over the keys of which her fingers had been idly wandering, with just a shade of disappointment visible on her pretty face. She had heard her father and Hubert cross the hall in the direction of the billiard-room, but had not expected they would have remained there so long. The only way in which, she could account tor her lover’s prolonged absence was that the Colonel, having lost one game, had insisted on playing another. Glancing around her she became aware, for the first time, of the fact that she was alone. She had not heard Gertrude Elbridge leave the room, but, knowing that the latter was herself fond of billiards, thought that she might possibly have gone to watch the game. If this was the case, then there was no reason why she- Sibyl, should not join the rest of the partyFor a moment the girl hesitated, feeling with a slight sense of pique that, on this night of all others, it was her lover’s place to have come to her. Then, realising that the young man had probably had no choice in the matter, she smiled, and determined to go and discover the real reason of his non-appear-ance.

Exccpi where the strong light of the lamps fell upon the table the rest of the billiard-room was in shadow, and, on entering it, Sibyl thought for the moment it was unoccupied ; she moved forward a few paces, and, as she did so, saw' that Fane was there alone. He was standing by the' fire-place with his elbow -’on the chimney-piece, in an attitude of deep thought; in fact, so lost did he app.-ir his. neditc-tions

that it was not until the girl had pronounced his name a second time that he became aware of her presence.

“Hullo! 1 ’ he exclaimed, in the tone of a person taken completely by surprise,, “Sibyl, where did you spring from?’’ His face wore a troubled look—an expression of mingled doubt and anxiety which remained in his eyes even after his brow had cleared and his lips parted with a smile. For a moment the girl stood looking at him, while something of the shadow which had been on her lover’s face appeared to fall upon her own. “What is the matter, Hubert?” she asked, suddenly. CHAPTER 11. Fane was quick to notice the change in Sibyl’s face, and it seemed to rouse him effectually from his reverie. He advanced towards her, and seized both her hands in his. “My darling,” he exclaimed, “what a graceless scamp you must think me; but you may depend I shouldn’t have wasted all this time playing billiards il it hadn’t been that your father suggested a game. I must keep in his good books, dear, if I, am to tackle him to-mor-row.”

She allowed him to draw her to him until her head rested on his shoulder.

“Aren’t you afraid, Hubert?” she said, softly. “Don’t you wonder what he will say when he knows that you want to steal his little daughter?” “Afraid —no,” was the reply, accompanied by a kiss on the questioner’s forehead- “He’s been kindness itself, the dear old fellow. If it hadn’t been for my promise to you I should have asked him tonight,” “Where Is he?”

“He’s been called away to see a fellow named Eridgeman about some business connected with the elections.”

“And where is Cara?” “I don’t know. Isn’t she In the drawing-room?” “No, I thought she must be here.”

“If there's no one in the drawingroom, then it seems to me it’s just the place for us," said the young man , laughing. “It’s cold here without a fire. Your father wanted to have one lit, but it’s warm enough while you’re playing.’’ The drawing-room proved to be still unocuppied; and, standing in front of the wood fire, ready at a moment’s notice to withdraw to a more decorous distance from each other, Sibyl and her lover conversed for a time in those low-murmured sentences which would have little meaning for any ears save those on which they are intended to fall. “I have been thinking, dear,” said the girl, after a pause, during which she had stood looking down at the dancing flames on the hearth, while her lover 'had watched the golden threads which they traced In her bright'hair, “that if I live at the Grange I shan’t be so very far away from father,” It was the first mention she had allowed herself to make of that ratn-bow-hued future which was opening out before them; and the n ; ere fact of her doing so caused Fane to experience a new, and strange thrill of delight. It was as if what had previously been but a castle in the air had, for an instant, changed Into a reality.

“Of course you won’t,” he answered. “I shall be able to run you over in the motor in no time, and you must learn to drive yourself. The place is hardly fit for you yet, Sibyl,” he continued. “The poor old governor allowed it to run terribly to seed, and the garden is a perfect wilderness.”

With the girl’s soft hand resting in his, Hubert launched out into a score of plans for making the gloomy old house of which he had recently become the owner a suitable home for his beloved —a fitting venue, as it were, for that life-long story of theirs which was to commence at the point where, in story-books, at any rate, love stories are supposed to end. He had already, in fancy, expended a fortune over those improvements when Sibyl quickly withdrew her hand from his, and, a moment later, Gertrude Elbridge entered the room.

She'looked pale, and ill, and was holding a silver-mounted smellingsalts bottle to her nose.

“I’m sorry to be such a poor hostess, Hubert,” she said, “but I’ve got a horrid headache. It’s just my luck that it should have come on this evening of all others, just when I wanted to have a long talk with you about your experiences in Canada.”

“Is there anything I can get for you, Cara ” inquired Sibyl, rising to her feet.

“No, dear, thank you. I think I’ll go upstairs and lie on the couch in my room. I may feel better, perhaps, in half an hour.” The speaker moved towards the doer, then turned, and came back again. “By the way, Hubert, ~~ she said, “I was telling you before dinner of the miniature which great Aunt Eliza left me in her will of her husband the Admiral, I know you’d like to see it, and I’ll show it •*, you now, before 1 forget,”

With Hubert f.! 1 _ ■ ~ C "

moved towards a small cabinet in a distant corner of the rcom. Opening the door she produced the miniature.

“There,” she said, “that’s the Admiral. He looks a typical old seadog —don’t you think so?” She was standing with her back turned towards Sibyl, or the girl might have seen that, as she waited, apparently for Fane to express an opinion on the portrait, her lips were moving us though in the formation of short, rapid sentences. This period of silence lasted scarcely more than a minute. Fane made a few commonplace remarks about 1 lie miniature, then handed it back, and it was returned to Its former place in the cabinet. “I don't suppose that tiresome man will keep the Colonel much longer,” said Mrs. Eibridge; then added, archly: “I must leave Sibyl to entertain you until he comes.” Left to themselves, the two lovers resumed their former attitude. Fane went on talking in much the same strain as before. He was buying a new motor-car now, and already giving the girl her first lesson in the construction and management cf the machine. He talked gaily enough, but, befoic long, it dawned on Sibyl that in some subtle way Ins manner had changed. His mind was no longer entirely given up to casllcbuilding; there was a something which kept intruding itself on his thoughts which had nothing to do with the subject of his conversation. Gradually the girl began to pay less and less heed to what he was saying, and to wonder, with a slight feeling of resentment, natural enough, what It was that could usurp even a portion of his attention just then, when she had surely a right to claim it all. At length the young man altered his position, and, in doing so, glanced at the small buhl clock on the mantlepiece. “Good gracious!” he exclaimed. “Is that the right time?” “It is by the clock in the hall,” answered the girl. “I just heard It strike ten. It’s not late,” she added. “No, but I must be home early to-night,” answered Fane. “Like a fool I forgot to bring a key with me, and old Judith will be sitting up till I come. I little thought what a tyrant she’d prove when I engaged her for a housekeeper. I can, tell you that I stand as much in awe of her now, as I did when she was our nurse. By Jove! in those days she ruled us with a rod of iron.”

He laughed as he spoke, but Sibyl, chancing to catch a glimpse of the reflection of his face in the mirror, saw in it an expression of anxiety, as if the words were not merely a jest, but spoken in earnest. “Don’t go just yet,” pleaded Sibyl, “I’m sure father will be vexed if you don’t stay to have a smoke with him before he goes to bed. Remember,” she added, smiling, “you yourself said you must keep in his good books until to-morrow.”

Hubert Fane laughed again, but in a manner which sounded forced and mirthless.

“Very well,” he answered, ”I’II brave Judith’s wrath for once; but look here, I’d just like to step outside for a minute to see what sort of a night it is. I’ve not got the lie of these confounded lanes round here yet, and, as I’m driving myself, if it’s very dark I might ask Robson to go with me as far as the cross roads and show me the way.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Sibyl, picking up a light shawl, and throwing it over her bare neck. “No —no,” he said, almost sharply. “It’s a cold night, and you might catch your death loitering about outside, after standing by this warm fire.”

At the further end cf the drawingroom was a large French window opening into the conservatory. He walked through this, and a moment later the girl heard him open and close the door beyond. Left to herself, Sibyl stood for a moment surveying her own reflection in the mirror, wondering if what seemed to her to have become such a tell-tale pair of eyes had not already betrayed tier secret to her father and his wife. Hearing the door open she looked round, and saw to her surprise that Gertrude Elbridge had returned. “Where is Hubert?” °

“He has gone out on the terrace to sec what sort of a night it is. Is your head better, Cara? I thought you said you were going to lie down?”

“I don’t new what is the matter with me to-night,” was the reply. “Nerves, I suppose- I felt I couldn’t remain alone any longer. Play something to me, Sißyl.”

With a sigh the speaker dropped vnto a low chair, while the girl moved towards the piano. She picked up the first ‘piece of music that came to hand, and played one of Chopin’s nocturnes, expecting that Hubert would have returned before it was finished. After a pause she turned over the pages, and played again; but still there was no sign of the missing guest.

Sibyl rose, and moved away from the piano. “I wonder where he is?” she murmured, as if thinking aloud, {To be Continued.)