LOVE’S DARK JOURNEY

Waikato Times, Volume 126, Issue 21036, 12 February 1940, Page 3

LOVE’S DARK JOURNEY

by MARGARET COOKE

CHAPTER XX (Continued) Mark felt a sudden, tearing pain through his head and his shoulder, had a last glimpse of the whirling green of the hillside, and then, as th a car crashed and splinters of steel and debris flew in all directions, a black oblivion came. And behind him, Mrs Willett’s painted face was streaked with blood, and although she was unconscious there was an expression of sheer terror cn her face. Disaster had followed that bitter quarrel, disaster, swift and sure—and perhaps to end in death. The strange fate that had watched the struggle between the good and the bad, me proud and the humble, in Mark Renway, had taken a hand at last. At the very moment of the plunge that he had been about to take, late had stepped in and str pped him. But with what terrible results! High on the hillside, watening the car as it rattled to a standstill and seeing the wreckage flying in all directions, Rene Willett felt as though she was lace to face with death. But she thought quickly, cool now that the emergency had come and the initial shock was past. She knew that it was quite impossible for her to get below, even if she could do anything when she reached the car. The only thing for her to do was to get on to the road again and to summon help. She had a twenty foot climb, bvt she went upwards quickly, caiing nothing for her torn clothes ana hti scratched flesh. She staggered on to the roadway at last, ana as me did so a small car came rounu tnrbend. The driver saw the dire straights in which the woman was placed, and pulled up immediately. Rene was almost incoherent. “A—crash. Down—there. Get—help!” “All right, get in the back,” snapped the motorist, who was capable in emergency. “Don’t hesitate, madam, get in!” Rene obeyed, almost automatically. She climbed in and the motorist put on all speed to the nearest A.A. telephone. Then he called the Winchester police, and also a breakdown gang. “Now we will get back,” he said with a sudden smile to Rene. He was a short, broad-shouldered man, very downright in his manner. “I wouldn’t leave you there—you weren’t fit. Now it’ll be all right.” “I—l’m so dreadfully afraid of what has happened,” muttered Rene. “It doesn’t seem possible they could live through it ” “My dear lady, it is surprising what human beings can live through. We mustn’t jump the fence until we reach it.” Rene said nothing. There was nothing she could say, although the man’s words gave her a certain comfort. They reached the spot where the car had crashed over the edge, and Rene gasped as she realised that neither her mother nor Mark had managed to get out of the car. That meant they were unconscious —perhaps worse. The motorist’s voice was grave now.

“Will you stay here while I try to get down?” “I—l must come,” she said, slowly. “I—no, I can’t go down there, I daren’t see them.” The motorist hesitated. He did not want to leave an hysterical woman on the edge of the hill, and he decided to wait until another motorist passed. Luckily he had not long to wait and, leaving Rene in charge of two ladies who were passengers in the second car, the motorist started the climb towards the foot of the hill.

It was by no means easy, but with the other driver he reached the doomed car at last. They worked quickly and hard, to get the two occupants out. Then the short man with the downright manner knelt beside them. Neither the man nor the woman looked—alive. He feared the worst as he took the man’s pulse in his fingers, and his companion tried Mrs Willetts. Alive or not, it would be touch and go with Mark Renway. That much was certain. CHAPTER XXI. Judy Frensham knew nothing of the visit that Mark was paying to the Manor. Nor did she know that the Willetts were in Tanton Had she done so it would have been ciilticult to judge her reaction. She knew that she was being foolish in many ways, but she could not erase the memory of Mark, no matter how she tried. The news of his engagement had come as a bigger blow than it should have done. She had had ample warning of what was likely to happen, and indeed she had actually expected to see the news some time before she did. But when it arrived, in cold print, when the knowledge that the man she loved had promised himself to another was actually in front of her, a coldness seemed to descend on her, shutting out all thought, closing down on all emotion. The engagement had been announced a week before the trip from London. In that week Rose Dale and Anne Frensham had been considerably worried by the attitude of the girl. Judy seemed listless, disinterested in what was going on about her. The vivacity that was her natural gift was missing. Laughter was never in her eyes nor on her lips. She looked —as indeed she was—like a woman who had suffered a severe blow, and one from which it would be difficult to recover. Jim Martin had seen nothing of the engagement when he came down on the following week-end. He was happier than he had been for a long time past, for he had read in his talk with Judy more than a suggestion of hope, and he was prepared to wait for as long as she wanted. His car pulled up ouside the house, and he jumped out quickly, smiling towards the front door. Usually Judy was looking through one of the windows, and nine times out of ten she hurried along the path. She wasn’t here this time. (To Be Continued.)