The Mysterious Stranger

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20870, 31 July 1939, Page 12

The Mysterious Stranger

• • • Msx&ws) • • • ; NEW SERIAL STORY | I

By H. S. SARBERT

SYNOPSIS i At the county ball Eileen Stanhope ! meets Paul Standish—a good-looking-, ' mysterious stranger whom no one j knows much about. He tells Eileen | that he is the owner or Belevuo, an old castle on the wildest part or the j coast or France. I CHAPTER 11. (continued) | “I fear,'’ lie said, in a somewhat j coaxing manner, as lie turned towards Eileen, "that your (gaieties at Manor Way will have spoiled you for the ; dullness at home. Rut you know i there is an old saying about the day ; being darkest before dawn, so you must put up with a stupid winter here, my dear child, with your old book-worm of a father, and in the spring, if all goes well, the grub shall expand into the butterfly.” “I am always content at. home, father,” said Eileen, as she looked up, surprised and pleased by the unwonted attention. •Yes, yes, my dear, of course! Hitherto,” he added, turning to Jeanette with an urbane glance, as he ad- | justed his gold pince-nez—"hitherto, I my little girl has never tasted the j sweets of society. Lady Dunscombe j lias awakened me to a sense of my j responsibilities. Stic very reasoni ably uiiges upon me the introduction ' of my only daughter into society. It is true,” lie added, as he raised a | glass o'f port to the light, and looked ; at i'l with a critical eye: 'MI is true 1 that tiiis is a matter to which I have j never given a thought. 1 have, been r> su immersed in my own pursuits and sludies that 1 have really neglected ' my home duties. My dear Mrs Pent,I land, this baby has grown into a eh id. the child into a girl, and wc seem to luve forg' *1 ten that the time is near at hand when she will he a woman l” Eileen glanced mischievously at Jeanette as she lightly touched a broad band of gold which Standish | had placed on her finger the evening ! before they left Manor Way. I Jeanette replied with a smile. | “I have not forgotten the' fact, Mr i Stanhope, but it is true, up till now , our life here has been singularly I monotonous. 1 don't think, however, | that Eileen has suffered by it. Unj spotted by the world, the pleasures I that she has lately experienced, and ; those to come, have been, and will be. i doubly charming t.o her.” Mr Stanhope leant back in his chair, and as lie tapped the points of liis J lingers together, he. nodded his head | with an approving smile. I “Not One Of Us” I “Ynii had. I bear. an agiv.-Mde [ parly at the Mmur.” tie presently i ..mil. “Lady hunsrombe is a woman whi. | borough I y understands the i duties of a hostess." [ “I! was very enjoyable,” Jeanette i answered, “ami the representation of | the tableaux was greatly assisted by the presence of Mr Standish.” ! “Mr St an dish? Ah. yes! a very 1 charming fellow, very: but not one of j us. my dear Mrs Pentland, not one of ! Eileen looked up uneasily. | “How do you mean?’’ JeAueUe Ask-

ed. “I thought you had taken quite a fancy to him.” “Oh, yes—oh yes! I found him a very agreeable fellow; but, after all, I know nothing whatever about him; who is he? —what is he?—all is involved in mystery. Of course, he is only a bird of passage, or one would be obliged to make a few inquiries about, him before admitting him to any great intimacy. I do not suppose we shall see anything more of him.” Mr Stanhope settled himself to the enjoyment of his port, and Eileen and Jeanette escaped to the drawing-room. “Oh, Jeanette!” cried Eileen, "what * is tlie meaning of this? Someone must j have been saying something against I my poor Paul.” j She walked up and down the room ' with clasped hands, and on her face J was tiie first shadow Jeanette had ever seen there; a shadow which, alas! ! deepened but too cruelly before the ! brightness came again. What could j Jeanette say? What could she do? j She felt convinced Lady Dunscombe ! had put Mr Stanhope on his guard I against Standish, but she was powerI Jess to say anything, and could only j trust to his powers of persuasion to j secure Eileen's happiness, j The next day was terribly long, j Quite early in the morning, Eileen was j Hilling about, white and nervous, j plucking llowers in I he conservatory, ! and running in and out of Jeanette’s ' ! room. At breakfast her wan, agitated 1 I face would have- altracte I attention, , j bad it not been that Mr Stanhope was , j deep in the perusal of a scientitrc ; magazine, which bad come bv the ; i early post from London, , j They were sitting in the drawing- . I room, when the loud peal of the dour- • | bell sounded through the house. • l 'Roth Eileen and Jeanette started to j j the window, which commanded a view L | of the front entrance. j i ”K is he!” she whispered, with | parched and quivering lips. “Oh | Jeanette, Jeanette!” j They heard sounds of voices in the ; hall, and then the steady tread towards the library, and the closing of ! the door. Eileen held Jeanette's ’ ! hand with a convulsive grip, and they • felt as if the moments passed with l leaden feet. “I Love Your Daughter” s Meanwhile Standish had been shown J into tin' library. Mr Stanhope, immersed in the study of some argument about some dead or nearly forgotten word, or ,-eribbting pages of n ! pedantie 1 arum.am U n other matters. I looked up with an air in which surprise v : and weir.one were happily blended. \ j “My be Mr Standish !" be cxclaiin- ; i'd. as lie rose from bis chair, “tills is | indeed a surprise. ! understood that l j “My leaving this place,” said Stand- • isb, with honesty, “depends, my dear .• | si.*, entirely upon you." f ; “Ah. indeed? And bow so?” replied j- : Mr Stand hope, wiih a smiling sir. "Is ! thorn any matter in which it is possible i for me to assist you? You know 1 owe _ j you a keot of £rAlilude wkick 1 oUaII

I "Ask Mrs Pentland,” he said to the j servant who entered, ‘‘to be so good j as to come here for a moment.” An 111-Boded Summons Jeanette and Eileen were sitting j silently in the morning-room when the J servant cam© in witß the message. As ; soon as he left the room, Eileen started j up. "Why has my father sent for you Jeanette? My heart tells me that there is something wrong. If all were well. ; he would have sent for me. Oh, j Jeanette darling, do make him con- i sent!” Jeanette could not say much, for she i also felt that the summons boded ill. | She hastened to the library. "I have sent for you, Mrs Pentland." j said Mr Stanhope, as he came towards i her, "to beg that you will be present , at an interview between my daughter i and this—this gentleman. I don't feci ! • i equal to it myself. I must request, ’ sir,” he added, turning to Mr Standish, j "that you will not unnecessarily pro- : • long your leave-taking. 1 have ; l the honour to wish you good-morn- j > ing.” and he stalked out of the room, i i No sooner was the door closed than : l Standish started forward and took ; i both Jeanette's hands in his. "He j : won't give her to me,” he said, in a i i tone otf the most unutterable sad- ! ness; "he has other views. Oh, if I j were only free to explain everything * —perhaps, then, he would listen to | me!” Ilis face of grief touched Jeanette j to the heart, but she could only motion him to follow her to the morn-ing-room. (To be Continued.)

be only too happy to repay.” “it is no use,” said Standish, "beatf ing about the bush. lam too much interested in what I am about to ask to hesitate any longer. Mr Stanhope, 1 love your daughter. I cannot leave this place —I can do nothing till I have your consent to her becoming my wife.” Mr Stanhope looked across at his companion. The smile had vanished from his countenance. He cleared his throat, and then said, deliberately: "You pay both my daughter and myself a great compliment. Pray believe ■ j that 1 feel it most deeply; but though | I thank you for the honour you have J done us, 1 must frankly tell you that I I decline your proposal.” j "Decline!” stammered Standish. I "Decline! And why?" ) "I have,” said Mr Stanhope, coldly, | "other views with regard to my only daughter—my heiress.” j "It is not of your heiress that 1 J think,” retorted Standish, with pasj sionate warmth; "It is of Eileen—of j the woman I love. Oh, sir! if you | have ever loved ” I "It ;s quite useless,” said Mr | Stanhope, politely, as he gently tapped J his gold cigarette case, “to appeal to i either sentiment or romance. In these I modern days reality holds its own, and | my views for my daughter are those | which will ensure her a place in the highest circles of the world —circles in which she was born to move.” "But,” urged Standish, "she loves me.” "If she said so,” repiled Mr Stanhope, coldly, "she must now be fully aware of her folly. Foolish and reprehensible as her conduct has been in J having admitted any such weakness, I j cannot but feel that she is a mere ! child; but you must allow me to say | that a man of your age, and, 1 supi pose 1 may add, standing in the world. |isin a very different position. You i have evidently availed yourself of the ! friendship and hospitality shown you j at the Dunscombes, and have abused ! it -by gaining my dear daughter's at- ! tention with a view to securing her | affection.” j "In loving your daughter,” repiled : Standish, "J had no ulterior views. J ! loved her, and do love her for herself i alone. I know nothing whatever of j her prospects or position in the | world. I only know that she is the j one woman on earth for me.” i "And may I ask,” said Mr Stanhope. ] "who are you? It is true that we have j met on terms Gif equality, but I know ' nothing whatever about you, and you ! must allow that I could hardly be exi peeled, under any circumstances, to j give my daughter to a person about ! whom 1 know absolutely nothing.” i "And about whom I can tell you j nothing,” said Standish, sadly. “My ! whole life is shrouded in mystery. S Please God, that mystery will soon ! vanish. Suffice it to say that you j would never repent giving me your : laughter. 1 am rich —very rich. 1 ! oil-- desire is to make her my wife. I f'h, Mr Stanhope, have a little mercy j— a little consideru!imi !" ! “1 think we had better imt prolong this conversation,” said Mi- Stanhope. | mildly. "I must distinctly and en- | li rely decline your proposals, and | therefore there can be nothing more | to say." “At least,” said Standish, earnestly, I “at least, you will allow me to see your | daughter? Stic knew that I was com- ! irr- here to-day. You cannot refuse mo a last interview with her?” j There was a pause, and thou Mr 1 Sui.ukope ruio the bell.