“SHADOWS”

Waikato Times, Volume 103, Issue 17410, 24 May 1928, Page 10

“SHADOWS”

SYNOPSIS. SIIELAGII HURSTBORNE, the (laugh* toe of a City financier who flies. a ruined man, sets out to earn her own living. She breaks off her engagement to HUGH MOYSTON, a selfish young man-about-town. Th.-n, to her surprise, she receives a visit from MARCUS DRAKE, the man who, she believes, ruined her father. He offers assistance which she declines. After vainly searching for work, Shelagh is engaged as advertisement canvasser to “European Art,’’ the editor of which, MR. STANTON, turns out to be something of a waster. One night he tries to make love to Shelagh. She struggles with him. Marcus Drake arrives and orders Stanton out. In revenge Stanton puts an announcement in the paper from which Shelagh learns that Drake is the proprietor of “European Art” and had especially arranged for her to take the post, of canvasser. Drake asks her to keep on with the work, in spite of her dislike of him. CHAPTER XX. “I certainly can,” said Shelagh swiftly. “You arc entirely mistaken.” She stiffened, and was about to turn any try to pick up the general conversation, which was becoming quite animated. Esme, however, was staring at her in bewilderment. Was it possible, wondered Esme, that she was wrong? Drake was obviously in love with Shelagh, yet had this giri, who had infatuated him, refused the chance for which she herself had longed in vain ? The thought caused her to burn with rescntmenl. Her fingers tightened on the parasol, and with sheer venom gleaming in her eyes she turned to Shelagh. “After what has happened,” she observed, “surely you will have no alternative?” “But what—you mean—” Shelagh broke off in confusion. Then she fell a wave of anger pass over her. “Do you think I’m going to pay attention to that? Do you imagine I’m going to sacrifice myself to the narrow prejudice of people 1 haven’t even seen?” “Surely it isn’t just prejudice. There are certain conventions—and you spent a night alone ” “What if I did?” interrupted Shelagh. “What if I spent a week up there? My life is my own, and no one else is going to dictate it.”

j Esmc was taken aback by the violence of this emphasis. “I had no idea you had such modern ■ views on marriage,” she said. “I don't think,” retorted Shelagh coldly, “we need discuss the subject any further.” * 4- • • The time for decision had come. In her bedroom Shelagh stared at her reflection in the mirror. More than ever it was as though she had two selves, one which loved and the other which hated Drake. But it was the j latter voice which was now the I stronger. ! To weaken at the last moment would | be contemptible. And, besides, circumj stances were driving her on relentlessly. That brief conversation with | Esme had been illuminating. It showed j that people were beginning to talk, to j speculate. ~ She would be expected, whatever her feelings, to marry Drake after the incident on the moors. There would be tongues, ready enough to doubt even the truth of the accident. They might think the whole thing was deliberate—oh, it was monstrous to contemplate. To hesitate now would be to let the situation get entirely out of hand. Already she found hersolf wavering dangerously. Sho must be strong—tonight she would break these unnatural relations with Drake. It would be bottor at night. She did not want to see his mother. Sho could slip away, after she had told him the truth, and catoh the lato train to London. It should be easy enough. A few i words, and she would break this man !as he had broken her father. To hold back any longer would mean that she must marry him, and that would be impossible. She would feel a traitress. She would lose all self-respect. If she must marry, there was always Moyston. lie would be tolerable, at least; sho could twist him without effort round her little finger. But what of her hopes of a career? | They seemed oddly trivial compared with these other issues. It was possible that she might succeed in business, but she would have to leave “European Art” and begin all over again. It would mean years of tedium, of bard, uninteresting work; and it was more likely to bring her into contact with tlie Stantons of life than the Carlists. Above all, after this strain was broken, she needed rest. There was little else. Without Drake. . . She drew back suddenly. She dared not utter the thoughts rising in the seething turmoil of her brain. She only knew that now she had nothing to look forward to in life; all that she had longed l'or or ever wanted seemed to lie in ruins. A Dream of Love. Once she had a dream of dream, that was all. The only man she had ever felt, capable of loving was the very man she ought to scorn and despise, the man site was forbidden by every instinct of propriety and decency, by a vow more solemn than anything ® known in law, to marry. Was it not ironic? Her lips were white, as she stared into the mirror. She touched them with rouge. But there was a dark flush staining her cheeks and she was trembling, as though with fear. She put on a small mitre-shaped hat, and then a clinging silk and woollen coat. Her trunk had been packed. Every arrangement had been completed. To-morrow she would be in London, away from this house, from Drake, from rumours—alone. Carrying her gloves she crossed the room. She paused for a moment in the dimly-lit passage. Probably Drake would be in the library. At the foot of the stairs she again stopped. She was unaccountably nervous. All her strength seemed to he leaving her. When she reached the j library door she was positively weak, i She opened it. j The long, book-lined room was j shrouded in gloom. At the far end sat Drake, leaning back In an arm-chair, a curved pipe between his lips. The glare from a reading lamp fell on his face, revealing its almost Roman cast. He was smoking quietly, and seemed buried In thought. At first he did not hear her approach. Noiselessly she moved across the carpeted floor, until she was wilhin a few yards of him. Then as he looked up, she halted, as though petrified. “ShelaghP* he exclaimed In surprise. She did not speak. There was a curious stillness. Her heart was like a watch that had been wound up too far, ,bq that it-stoppedaltogether..This was,.

(BY PATRICIA LEIGH.) \ Author of “A Modern GirJ,” Etc

(Copyright.)

the scene [hat, once—it seemed years j ago—she had pictured so eagerly. Now j she felt no satisfaction; only a twisting, aching pain within. “Shelagh !” repeated Drake in wonder. lie stood up. “Why are you dressed like this? You are not going out?” “I’m going to London,” she replied. “To London!” he repeated incredulously. “Yes, I’m going—and I’m not coming back.” By now he was at her side. He caught her arm in bewilderment, but she jerked it sharply away. “What do you mean?” he asked. “I mean,” she said slowly, “that this farce is at an end —the farce of our engagement. I never meant to marry you—and that’s why I’m going.” “Arc you mad?” he demanded hoarsely. lie could hardly believe his ears. Yet she stood before him, wearing her hat and coat. She seemed normal—or was it he who was the victim of a delusion? “I’m telling you, because otherwise you would think I was afraid. J never meant to marry you. I never loved you. t hated you—and 1 pretended in order to make you suffer. ’’ She spoke with such deadly earnestness that he could no longer doubt. She was terribly sincere; but the truth was breaking slowly on his unwilling brain. “Shelagh:—you don’t realise what you are sajjing7’ “I do!”? She raised her voice slightly. “I mean it. I deliberately planned this.” “You—oh, I can’t, I won’t believe it.” A Stunning Revelation. “You’ve no alternative. I’m going now—and you will never see me again.” “You mean”—he stared at her dazedly—“that you don’t intend to go through with our marriage.” “I never intended to.” “But you are crazy,” he gasped. “Shelagh—-you love me—you realise—” “I hate you!” she said, with sudden • passion. He fell back a step, staggered by her ; violence. He was not dreaming. This ! dreadful thing was true. She was ; standing before him, and their love lay broken and killed by her words at his \ feet. “Do you know why?” she continued, 1 as her breasts rose and fell with emo- j lion. “Did you imagine 1 could forge I what you’ve been in the past? You’ve wrecked my life, as you’ve wrecked ; hundreds of other lives. Through you j my father was disgraced and ruined. : You murdered him, you are guilty of | his death. . . But what did it matter j so long as it helped you to succeed, | satisfied your craving for power and j wealth. You are powerful and you are j wealthy, but there’s one thing you can't ; buy—you can’t make me marry you. j I’ve waited for this, planned it in every ! detail. I wanted to make you suffer— I and I’m glad.” j She faced him triumphantly. Her j nerve had not failed, and now she saw ; his face pale and become haggard. She j watched his eyes widen with unbelie: i and then contract with pain. She was : glad; something stronger than she could understand had enabled her to j speak like this. It was ;fs though she were hypnotised, and another self, a : foreign self she barely recognised, were using her voice. The lips that 1 had once yielded to his now lashed him with scorn—even though every word ; stabbed her own heart as well. “You can’t mean this,” he said at : last. Not once did his eyes leave her face. “Shelagh, think—” “For months I’ve thought of nothing else. You believe I loved you—but all the time you were fooled. You were fooled, and now you know the truth.” She leaned back, resting her hand on the edge of a great mahogany table. She had been swept away by the force ; of her pent-up emotions, but now, ail ; at once, she felt the return of that dizzy weakness. Her heart was leaping ; wildly, but a moment later it stopped j again. All her breath seemed to leave j her lungs. She felt a choking sensation, \ a sort of faintness, a sudden dread, as j though she had thrown away her weapons and stood there utterly defenceless. Drake was coming towards her, his expression grim and stern. A tremor ran over her. . . (To be continues ■-o-motrow.J