JUDY SAYS “NO.”

Waikato Times, Volume 109, Issue 18346, 4 June 1931, Page 4

JUDY SAYS “NO.”

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CHAPTER'Xll.—Continued. - ‘‘We shall never hear the last of our pride, Nick, my boy. When will you come back? We want vou. There at the old house I have missed you. In the old days we were not friends as we ought to have-been. Judy has shown me a great deal, taught me much.” ‘‘We'll be friends, sir,” said Nick boyishly. They wanted to draw her in—Judy saw that—but she could not stand it. Nick and Enid together, happy in their love, everything straight. She knew from watching Enid’s face in the library how softened she was, ready to become engaged, ready for things to go forward for a swift wedding. Why, they might even ask her to be bridesmaid! She could not stand Itl Love was too devastating, too racking! As the two talked she slipped away. At the bottom of the lane the carrier’s cart was jogging along—a lumbering old motor bus that would stop at the station. She would go back home I They wanted her there I Oh| to be home again under daddy’s roof, to see Patricia smiling there, and the children, and dear old Peter, aye, and even with Gilbert, all of them! She wanted them all, their riotous cries of welcome. What would they care that she came back emptyhanded, even as she had gone I And afterwards, to go- and sit in - daddy’s study while he worked at a sermon or read. The ineffable peace of itl To be away from all the torturing ache that seemed to lie like a dead weigr.t at her breast: Was she never going ■to know relief from that storm of emotion that flooded her when she saw Nick? ■ ‘ •' Perhaps when she was right out of the neighbourhood she would be able to forget, forget that he had ever come along and changed her whole life story. V She; had enough money .with her to get a ticket down; ta Blayborough. The express from London to the North came puffing in. It would stop at Blayborough. . With one last look back at the place she was leaving behind she got into the train. “Good heavens, Judy, you? What are you doing here?" It was Clive, cringing back against the cushions. For a moment the two sat staring at each other; then Judy flashed Clive a look of scorn. “So-you’re . running away,!” she said. ;/■' A , iVi? \\ Those words, of Judy’s hit,- the marif-; Clive’s face was . s'allow, and'thiii ssgs were furtive! . :v/' “What do >mu mean ?’’ heSb'l’ustefed. “Don’t pretend to me; olive,Ay; said Judy sternly. “I know everything, you see. I gave you .your- T chaiace to ■make a clean- breast oL to your grandfather; you'failed "to take it.”

. . “You didn’t think- I was going to face - the mu'sic, MidV&ou't" said the wretched man. “Do you know what -Henry Harmer is? - Did youvthinlr that I was going to confess and stand there while he dressed me dqwn? In the end he’d have givdn me In charge, or twenty-four hours to clear the country, or something like that.” • “Granted,” said Judy. “Still, you’d have done what you oould to make amends. Clive Crawford, .look at me." Oddly enough, he found himself lifting his furtive eyes to her clear, frank blue ones. “Do you think you will ever be happy?" she demanded. “Do you think you will ever know real peace of mind?” “I don’t see why I shouldn't,” he said. “Yes, you do. You know very well that this thing will haunt you all the time. It ought to, -anyway; even, without telling grandfather everything, it ought to; but at least you’d have done what you could to put right the dreadful thing you did." And all of a sudden Judy’s stern face softened. "Clive," she said, “I’ve got to know you pretty well during this visit of mine, #nd I’ll admit you’re weak; I’ll admit that you’ve made a tremendous mistake; but I think I know you well .enough to know that you’re- not -wholly bad or callous. You'll never be able to forget!” “Don't say that, Judy,'” said Clive, looking over his shoulder with a shudder.

“You know It's true, that’s why you’re afraid. Now, listen to me, being a coward never saved anyone’s face. Some time or other’, it’s my firm conviction you’ll have to face this thing out. Because, for every sin that we commit we have to make amends: father said that. And it’s only justice. Clive, go back and tell grandfather everything.” “I oan’t, Judy I You don’t know how I shrink from it,” he said miserably. “I think I do,” said Judy gently. “Mind you, you ought to have shrunk from doing it in the first place." “I didn’t dash bodily into the situation," muttered Clive. “You see, it all began over Marion Jackson. Somebody said that Mr Harmcr had called; it wasn’t Mr Harmer, it was me. My car had got stuck in the mud; it had been very rainy, and J called in to get them to bring a team of cart horses to drag the car out. 1 said it was Mr Harmer’s car. You see, it was your grandfather’s. Marion Jackson was flattered at my interest in tier, and this gave me the idea. . . . People let me run up bills because they thought I was Nicholas Harmer, old Harmer’s heir. I began to use the name more and more. Then I found that cheque, Nicholas had left it in a book which he had been reading. I found it in the library. Mind you, I'd never dared to have altered it if I hadn’t been playing for higher stakes than I could afford. I was sick with terror for fear Mr Harmer should find out that I was gambling. lie has a great objection to playing cards for money. I think I was crazy that night. All the men who played there were rich nien who could afford high stakes. I was a penniless nobody. *1 altered the cheque!” “Nothing excuses you for letting the blame bo thrown on Nicholas," said Judy, reproachfully. “I know! I’ve been a mean cur!" he said. Judy looked at him thoughtfully. She had still something to say to him. “But I think even worse than that was to go and make love to me because you thought that. I was going to be Henry Banner's heiress. I think that llial was diabolical. V/hal if I'd fallen in love with you. and Iheii I'd had my heart broken! It would have broken. Clive."

(By WINIFRED CARTER.) Author of “Lass ; O’ Laughter.”

And then to her . astonishment a hoarse sob broke from Clive Crawford’s lips. • “That’s where my punishment comes in! .For don’t you see that, though I was such a mean skunk as to begin to make love for what I could gain, • i really fell in love I 'Oh, Judy! You despise me, you loathe me, and rightly too, but nothing that you can ever feel will be half what I feel. For in loving you I’ve learned what a wretchedly poor thing I am. Judy hate me as much as you like, but the love I wanted you to accept last night is genuine.” “Then I'm sorry, Clive,” she said, very gently. Then she put out her hand and caught his. For a moment there was silence,' and Clive saw suddenly that Judy was crying too. Judy crying for him! “Don’t!” he said hoarsely. "I can’t stand that!” “Clive,” said Judy, “go back, face the music, start out again. -Honestly I believe that if a man will confess and repent, a new way opens. Ido believe that God Is our Father, and like as a falher He pitieth His children. Oh, I wish that you could talk to my father, he’d make you see that now’s your chance, now yoii are at the cross roads." “I think you are even better than your father, Judy,” said Clive earnestly. And. then he straightened his shoulders, and into the handsome but weak face there came a'look of decision, which faded.-almost as soon as it had come. "You forget," ,he muttered, “there’s mother and Enid.” “I,forget nothing,” said Judy eagerly. “Face them, too, bear what they say, and start anew. If loving me has done anything, Clive, it has made you want to -do right now.” The train tore along, and Clive sat there sunk -in -thought, and Judy found herself praying that he would do the, right thing—Judy, who in’this materialistic -age believed that prayer could accomplish much. The train drew in to . a -station.Clive got to his feet, he put out his hand. “Right you are, Judy, I’m going back. Good-bye.” He lifted her hand and brushed it with his lips, and then he opened the carnage door, and the next moment he was gone. -For a moment Judy sat there thrilling with hope and relief, then she •brushed the tears away, and beckoned a porter. “Gan-1 send a telegram from -here?" she said eagerly. f, : -; ; ?‘Wh'y,.-.'yes, Miss. You’ve-got a few minutes yet,- too.” : • Ttv*So she drew out her note-book, .and scribbled a telegram .to her grandfatherr - 1 "When Clive comes, be merciful, as you- hope for mercy, and for Judy’s sake." -V % " .

Enid Acts. The two men-left behind at the' ghrdsn lof R'est'i-did '.iiot.'at' first notice that Judy had gone. Pre-sently-the old man rose to his feet and took Nicholas’s arm. 1 “Show 'me round, .Nicholas. Some-, times when I’ve seen you using the tractor I’ve hated you, but at other times I’ve had an unwilling admiration for you. I see you’ve changed the name.” He pointed half ruefully up at the swinging sign, where the name .“Travellers’ Rest" swung in the wind. . Nicholas looked rueful in his turn. “I was so an-gry -that I hated everything to do with Harmer,” he confessed. “ I don’t wonder, my boy," said Henry Harmer, “I was hard. Pride Is my besetting sin. Well, if. it’s any consolation, let me tell you that it has oaused me more pain; has.robbed me of more good, more happiness; has spoilt things more for me than it has for anyone else." “Grandfather," said Nick eagerly, “We've both been too proud. Thank heaven for Judy, who showed us what a rotten, miserable thing pride is." He looked round, suddenly remem-bering-her, and his face clouded. -Now where had she gone? “I expect she slipped away back to Harmer House; she’s -so sensitive, so understanding, she thought that perhaps we wanted to be -alone." “Life would be impossible for me now-without that «-girl," said old Harmer. (To ne uonllnued.)