BRIAN’S RETURN.

Waikato Times, Volume 109, Issue 18342, 30 May 1931, Page 16 (Supplement)

BRIAN’S RETURN.

i',< Brian; laiighcd.'•: He’ did -riot '"fancy? ‘tils, foster-mother AvOuld have Had'tfro warm a welcome for the man who i carried her darling th a far country. | forxhimself, he wondered lie had ever 'heencontentto’&laya't-home’anioflgst .-I It was less than a month later when the two comrades in adventure turned towards the unexplored fastVHesses .the mysterious depths of '.virgin forests which .held the fortune they had come to- seek:" Termagnaril still 1 holds such fortunes for the adventur- | ous—aye I and more too . since ... . those who go on such a'wooing', do not always return- Vast ,/forests of Banksian pines, Adars and shroud the land, beneath the surface of which lies the. wealth- comparatively •/ew .hold enough to . seek':; • . ; The Flestons had left their Indian: guides behind them nowi. /-That hadbeen Terence's decision. _ ■ “We have our dogs and our kit, B, ammunition - and food,” he; said,; d that with the directions" I have: Id he enough. ..White Elk and;Red. w are. ~-not the unsophistlcafejd:' savages you' may suppose. They;are* •cute men of business who knowXthej' worth of gold . . . and . moriey’k ; worth. They’re too civilised Bri, —and it’s a bad mixture with a good deal of- native Algonquin, y We; shall he safer alone.” .., S And Brian, with the ' vast respect of a tender-foot for a tried traveller, agreed. . : .'/?/;■:"•:■ it".-- . 1 i He liked this Ishmael with his sunblackened- face and keen eyes; He was a man of iron—and,a sport. But there were moments of ,douht, when the younger man had sensed somiething near akin, to fear.. Was It,altogether fear? He was, not sure. Some might have called it presentiment.' - And Madge iGittikln’s hint about the thirteenth Irritated him by Its obtrusion. “ ' a v The ordinary tale of adventure was his forlthe:*seeklng. 'They had -shot. J rapids which had 'left .him -dazed, and breathless, ithey had '-heard, wolves , calling in the weird manner of their kind, they had shot bears—though . the sight- of a grizzly had not'/been .vouchsafed. . j.. " •• | '.(Now, as they -set out on -a lonesome trail, the only sound they-heard was the. mocking of the masog as-it - flitted from tree to tree. ■ ! “ It’s a long trek to Margan’s Creek,”'.said-Terence Fleston. “ And : —;l’ve never travelled It,-, We stand level here, lad —taking the • same chance'. You; know the story; of the ■ Creek'.”' > ‘ ' : ■ .” He spoke lightly, and may be never dreamt his warning would have a depressing 'effect on the other. '; Yet , . It did so. in a vague way, which brought Brian’s thoughts ..more 'constantly, in a homeward direction, -and ’ obscuring the blaze of exoitement ? around the Mecca of ,their dreams; ' .'.-Gold! What was gold after-all , . In comparison with Chloe’s kiss'-. .• ber smile . ; . the dreams ol.youlh ?«ind love and -sunshine?... Even if the , rich trader had grabbed Byers - Court. ! the old; craze for ancestral bricks end tnortar was played out. 'Too| much sentiment was Impossible .ini;these i flays .- , . . It might he better to ‘flay, .ancestral sentimont could be [wiped out altogether.. . . It passed through Brian's mind that (Terence was more fixed oil -his .saving* his inheritance than he himself: Brit ' then a past generation had stich queer views about these things. The fire died—and Brian slept, but not well. He heard the wolves howling away out of sight of tlilr watchllflre ip some black reoess; of the forest : •; -The brutes, j M i ■ jjl: ;And Terence had "tales, of- Redskins fesoaped from the reserve' - p'btne to lhaunt the wilds -.where -, already the • ghosts of their ancestors held rule, 1 Ghosts, pshaw.l .Rut then, these ■Algonquin ;.beggars ’were the most superstitious, on earth ... believed in wizardry , . , dabbled In black magic, and' would not for their li\es have slept on-the old battlefields or burial-places of their- forebears. V “We shall reach Margan’,s Creek 'by -noon,” said. Terence Fleston next’day. “'No . . • • I can’t mistake my 'bearings.- -We shall Had the nuggots under the right-hand bank.” ?• < He was right in his foretelling 'They reached the Creek but found no nuggets. '' Restlessly they searched that clay, the next, tho next. Brian .was in a : fever to find and begOnc. lie had : fancied he bad scon Redskins looking , at them from the shadowy .-glades • near, be remembered the fate’ or :lho ; two men who bad found or heard of , thS gold. And tlu?y left England on the 13th. “ Can it bo a mare’s nost after all, ! Terence?” be asked, “it looks like it.” The other shook his head. “The nuggets are here,” he vowed. •We shall-And them to-morrow.” Brian watched him at his searching; The man made a weird study—• so intent was he, so fierce, so dogged. 11 was.’more than life, and death with him to find the gold. But it \yas Brian after ail who located it. Just a chance find —and there lay the nuggots. A l'oftunlo for'both . . 'A fortune. And Brian could count on ending ids days at Byers Court. jfo Joked about it in that fioodtlmo hour of success, and' Terence Flest'on listened and understood. After all . . . Byers Court meant little enough compared with the boy’s marriage made easy . . . and all the pleasuring which lay before him arid bis child-wife. Byers Court was no more to Brian than—a fiat in town would be. , And so ~ > . . the temptation came. How ... or when ... or where •Hie fiend crept into the elder man’s soul who can say? It was In the noment of reaction, of jealousy, of .

(By May Wynne.)

(Continued from last week.)

-‘dr^ > , tout/jerence fleston Aaken’- iiriawares.:;. Ay Brian slept .soundly orifa bed of moss, heedless of;jwolvesior Indians. I He,was .dreaming, of, p-hloe- and a wel-’r'chMe;hdme.t:'d^-e:t he awakened sud-,-denly, .breaking -the happy. = .vision and feeling the sweat as cold on his brow :,as if-he-had a nightmare> ~lron bands might'’ have been bolding .-/ down -his limbs for he, could not move. Yet he was- intensely alive to every sound . every Impression. Not a Wolf howled, not a- fox .-barked, though , a light 'breezedstlrrihg; : fd’rest foliage sent a .whisker Whirling bp the dong giades. .’Aywhisper with dfead .-in /'it;;,; . . so that' the .air itself grew colder as it passed. ■//'The' young’/man trldd to 'shake off the, spelT,f?ut H held, him,j Sapping, silencing•;■., -cpolntlng to -where he •bad. nol<wlshed' , -to* look.'• He-.hkd not 'wished to/lurhb/s head' towards the 'bpo't'bher'et'theAvatchAit’e had:burned :td;,a'dullglowyp : f red etobers.' . ■T::.f?ven 'rioW/as? he,' turned- it was not the.fire he" saw hut something • nearerA;.. . .much nearer. -Some^ ;thlng .•.whiphlstfuek:a-still; deeper chill from which leaped .a new and unfelt terror. ' For he - knew' every fold of •.that grey;alpac'a;,go\vii-..with the square "patch ab,ove;-'th'e;-.\vaist '.line where a •|io!e ‘had .been ;hidden •by a slightly 'darker ~materi'al;,':; He,knew the black apron too,’ tire - broad dorp boots, the round ;pearl.'.huttous which fastened They dress Bodice, But,- all , these details .were things he was aware of sub-corisciously.; . ■ The figure’’stood ■ still, mysterious,; hut the face shown by the moonlight Was; that of the fostermother who had given 'him a mother’s love . . to .whom -he had given a son’s affection.'*- He -saw the 'tired brow, me’ grey hair of contrasting shades, a little thin, and very tightly drawn,—hut .Avhat riveted his attention were the eyes..:'The eyes of the - dead. The eyes closed., these months past in their last sleep ; . . The eyes Which looked across an open space .

not• at him v . . -but at,another. , A -curious:,,; through the watcher . ..’■ . as be realised that the pyes of that dead woman were not meeting his own. What message did they give? And to whom? The coldness wrapped him round. Fear-waf but a little word to. explain

. . -what lie felt. He knew that he was a spectator at the .strangest drama ever played. Yet he lay helpless . . as witness only.- iFor he knew Terenoe Fleston was crouching there—shadowed hy that neighbouring tree . . .. It was Terence this woman was -speaking to with eyes only , and he thought of .his foster-sister Madge who had talked •of how it would have broken her mother’s heart for him to go beyond her care and ken. * Curious, .Is It not, how the thoughts crowd in on our moments of destiny? -Curious; how some seconds of time stretch into hours. .

Brian could ,see what he had not seen first , .. , the figure of ;hls companlon . crouched on ..one. knee . a knife fallen from his grasp . . one arm raised as though to ward off some savage attack. 8ut..,. ..his uncle’s ■face: . . . as he raised It in the full glare of pale moonlight . . .. was ghastly. TJie younger man felt his pulses .pound in slow, suffocating throb as he read the st-ory of that picture . . . the picture which remained . I ... till Terence Fleston with a groan of agony fell' face, forward amongst the bracken. The figure in grey alpaca . . . the face with the eyes! which warned after the awful fashion of the dead—had, gone. . ' Rut Brian, thrilling through every fibre of his being, knew a dead woman had saved his life.

It was three \yeelcs later when the two inert turned their faces towards the homevi'ard trail . Terence,, was still, .the lean and haggard, ghost of Ills former self. For three weeks he had lain, there beside Morgan’s Creek, raving in fever, w'eak, and' helpless; Brian had nursed him ; fallhfully ... . . hut had received no word of thanks till the day when a’ man oomingback from the shores of death made confession. “'ll was' the devil’s temptation and the' fire of swamp fever In my brain, boy," groaned the penitent. “ Byers Court was the lure. I’felt the love of the old'place strong in me . ..It burnt with the fever'. . . till I coveted it' more than T hunger for the one woman I'have ever'needed. -Then . . , the whisper came.' I should have killed you as you lay,ll’ it had not been for a dead woman. She came ai d stood between myself and you I saw the eternal fires in her eyes . . the horror. - . . . the unending horror twined wilh the love which stretches beyond the grave. Ton owe your life to . your foster-mother . . . ’’ Brian stretched out his hand and gripped that of the sick man. " 1 saw her, too," said he. “ I saw her, loo." A 'gleaming mantle of snow lay lightly on the eountrysido and on the quaint gables of Byers Court. At the little railway station some distance from Hie house two women, the one petite and lovely with the loveliness of youth, the other several years older and beautiful in another way, waited for the incoming London train. Eagernoss lit up both faces and burned in both pairs of eyes. . •‘lsn't it wonderful?” Chloe was saying. "Brian said iio would be back for Christmas, and It's Christmas Eve . . . and he's only a llttlo ,way nvay . . . and coming- ... licr voice grow tremulous. Then hie laughed rather shakily. "I believe I’m excited,” ' she confessed, as If her companion was not Uready assured on that point. Cynthia squeezed the other’s arm,

then pointed suddenly to a cloud of steam which somehow looked rather soiled, against the pure background of 'snow.,.;'--.. •-■ ' “Here’s the train!” she said, trying to keep tfie emotion from her voice. A minute or so later the ', engine clanked fussily past them, and Chloe saw. Brian leap perilously before it came to a standstill. He /swept ( her joyfully into his arms arid kissed her soundly, riiuchi to her discomfiture —for, as she said afterwards, It wasn’t proper that the stationmaster, the booking clerk, and the porter grouped •at the waiting-room door should he spectators at such an exhibition. But Bran only laughed. “A Christmas treat for then}!” he exolaimed. “I’m so glad that there’s .such a treat for me that I don’t mind sharing a wee hit with others. Jove! it is Jolly to be -back, and to be spending Christmas at home, and to know that the dear old place is saved, and yoq’re going to marry me, and Terence is going to ” He paused, and looked quizzically into Chloe’s eyes,

“Do you know what Terence Is going to do?” he asked quietly. “Well, Cynthia ' said. . . she thought . . . we might not be the only happy pair at Byers Court this Christmastide,” • Chloe answered. “And just;'look .- . . I mean don’t look ... . at them, now.” •.;>! “I think Cynthia was right,” she added meditatively. • “But they really ought to have waited until they were under the mistletoe. Don't you think SO?” . ' ■ V ' “Oh, it’s jolly kissing under the mistletoe,” Brian confessed readily. “But I wonder if anybody’s thought of fixing any up at the Court. k We’ll have to see to that, won’t we?” Chloe laughed deliciously. “Oh, I think that’ll be all right,” she replied. Then, in a more hesitating voice: “You see, Cynthia and I have been making it all Christmassy for the returned exiles . . . and we thought; . . .’’ At this point Brian shamelessly made. It clear that he. understood —and appreciated.