LOVE IN FETTERS

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 237, 6 October 1928, Page 14 (Supplement)

LOVE IN FETTERS

By PATRICIA LEIGH J •1 ■ ■ i '

CHAPTER .--XIIL I The moment she gained the privacy of her own bedroom; Marjorie locked the door, switched off the light, and flung herself face downwards on the bed. Emotion rioted through her; at first she burned with sheer humiliation when she remembered that scene on the houseboat, and then anger overcame her— anger with herself for having let Haberlin see too" clearly that she loved him. Then came anger with Haberlin, who had remained so controlled, so unmoved by her passion. She lay. there, clenching her fists, her musclee taut while she thought over the events of the" day. She had been so happy, so full of hope that afternoon, for she had always believed that, given the right time and the right mood, Haberlin would be carried away and make love to her; and would ask her to go out to America with him as his wife. Now she knew that by her impetuous folly she had completely wrecked any chances that she might have had. The mere loss of his friendship did not matter to her, for she would never have been satisfied with any such lukewarm substitute for love.

Her misery grew upon her, lying there in the darkness. She heard a party of other girls como in and go to their rooms, chattering and laughing after a visit to the theatre. They were all stupid, empty-headed, she told herself savagely, they had not the same capacity for either love or suffering that she had. Finally tears came, and her body wa3 racked by sobs which she was forced to control, as the walls of the house were thin, and she was afraid of being overheard by her neighbours. Eventually she must have fallen asleep through sheer exhaustion, for her room was faintly illuminated by a greyish light when she again became conscious of her surroundings, and found herself lying, chilled and stiff, on the top of the counterpane, her cerise frock tumbled and creased.

Mechanically she undressed and crept in between the sheets, where she lay with wide-open eyes staring up at the ceiling. But sleep did not come to her Instead she found herself remembering, against her will, a 'night three years earlier, when her faith in men had been shattered. She had then told herself that never again could she love any man, and her disastrous experience had undoubtedly had a lasting effect upon her character, rendering her cynical as well as bitter.

Gradually anger again became her dominant emotion; it seemed to her that she was being dogged by a relentless and unjust fate, some malevolent spirit always at her elbow. So many other girls, she told herself fiercely, always lead a peaceful, sheltered life, s.afe from the storms of the outside world. Girls like Una, for example. What was it that Larry saw in her? If he had never known her everything would probably have been different.

A hot anger that gradually increased almost to fury surged up in her as she thought of the other girl. That little fool, who. actually refused Haberlin when he aeked her to marry him, was now going to marry Rex arid would never even know, what it felt:like to be unhappy. Unless, of course, fhe was told about Rex's impending divorce. . •

When morning came she telephoned to the World Peace Federation to say she was not well enough to go there. She had, as a matter of fact, worked herself up to such a pitch that she would have found it impossible to carry out her ordinary duties. Further, she dreaded meeting Haberlin, .ind wanted to think out some plan whereby she could avoid him. Hud she but known it, however, nobody was more anxious to avoid an awkward meeting than Haberlin himself; it was some weeks before he again entered the portals of, the World Peace Federation.

Tho very thought of food was> distasteful to her, so without bothering to have any breakfast she started, off for a» long aimless tramp across London, , scarcely noticing her direction. Her. club was in one of ' ths squares just, off Kensington High Street, and she set off at a brisk pace, going >up Church Street to Netting .Hill Gate v ...As she tramped on, her thoughts', began to centre / on Una; she began to blame her, and'her alone for'her present niieery. Fierce, unreasonable .jealousy stabbed her, and every incident of the pa.= c, all the eolicitude that Haberlin still showed for the other, girl rose up before her, stinging her with a pain that she could' hardly endure. ■ .•

It was.'One. of .those grey, oppressive days in London and after a while a faint "drizzle, began. But Marjorie strode on oyer Maida Vade and through Regent's Park/oblivious to all physical discomfort. It was about twelve-thirty when ehe awoke suddenly to the fact that ishe was in the Green Park.

And now an idea that had been slowly formulating in her brain took definite shapo. She knew that it was Una's half-day off, and that she would probably be returning to her flat for luncheon. She went straight to St. James' Mansions and met Una in the lift going Vt> to her flat. "Marjorie!" she exclaimed "What is the matter? You look quite ill, I was just going to ring up to find out how you-were." ■ . . "Shall we go in?"- replied Marjorie abruptly. "I want to have a talk with y °Wo'nderingly Una led the way to her own.bedroom and asked her to take off , ier things. ' ' "I am quite alone to-day, she explained. '"I hope - you won't, mind rather a scratch meal." , But the other girl only shook her head as she remained standing in the centre of the room. • "I am afraid that trhat I am going to • tell you will come as rather a shock," ehe remarked sombrely. Una ran to her in quick alarm. "What has happened?" she asked breathlessly. "It isn't Rex, is it? : "Nothing wrong in that way. He hasn't had an accident or anything like that." ' • ■ ~' Una drew a quick breath of relier. - ' "What a fright you gave me," she said. "Just for a moment I thought of.-horrible things." "•(' Marjorie stared'at ;her in eilence for a moment. The. realisation that thie <nrl had had happiness within her reach, that she could have married Haberlin, filled'her , with renewed fury; in Una she saw at that moment the cause of all her own unhappiness. She determined that she also should learn how to suffer.

"Well, what is it?" asked Una with a nervous laugh. "Is it so terribly important that we won't be able to have anything to eat first?"

Marjorie nodded, then began to pace slowly up and down the room.

'1 would rather tell: you "now," etie said. ' •,'

At that moment she hated.Una. She was convinced that this girl, and this girl only, was the cause of her present misery; she did not wait to ask herself how far she and Haberlin were actually suited to one another. Then again, so faT ae Rex was concerned, an old resentment rose in her afresh; once he had played with her, too, and iad let her go again with a good-humoured indifference that still angered her, although she had never taken him seriously. Later on, she would bitterly regret the pain she was about to cause .Una, for she was, in her way, rather fond of the other girl. But at that particular moment, stung by her awn mieery, she struck wildly at her, attributing to her the cause of her o.wn pain.

"What is it?" asked Una sharply, this time with ( greater uneasiness. Half-formed suspicions began to form in her mind. Again that night at the concert rose before her. What did the other girl know? What had. she found out?

"Larry and I have been worrying about you for a long time," began Marjorio slowly. "Wo felt that you ought to be told the. truth." "The truth about what?" "Rex." ' \ "What has Hex done?" Marjorie hesitated, finding a certain cruel pleasure in keeping Una in 'suspense. "We did not like to tell you," she began at last, "because we felt that Rex himself should have done.so, but knowing i.ow strongly you feel about divorce — " "Divorce? But what • can divorce have to do with Rex?" .

"A very great deaL Again Marjorie lingered, enjoying the jther girl's anguished suspense. "Explain what you' mean/ , cried Una, 'Divorce can.' ha.ve nothing to do \vith Rex, for he has never been married." "So far ae you know." Una wheeled round and seized Marjorie by the ehoulders. ""■'l ma tie trueh," £??■? ■'°~-" J "- , jx has already been married , ." X don't believe it. It isn't true. It can't be." Una faced the other girl, pale, determined, all on the defensive. "Why shouldn't it be true?" asked Marjorie., "Lots of people get divorced; what is there to make such, a fuss about?" . ■ ■ . "I could never marry any man who had a wife still living," declared Una. "But you must bo making a mistake. I am certain that Eex has never been married before." ' . ' "It was a long time ago, when he was twenty-one." - ■ Una stared at Marjone, half convinced, yet still hoping there might bo some mistake. "How did you hear so much of Rexs past?" she inquired. "By accident, that's all. But you had better ask Rex for full particulars." "Of course. I will go to Rex at once. But I am sure you are making some-hor-rible mistake. You have-not any proofs, have you?" _.' Marjorie shook her head, regarding the other fixedly. > ■ ■ , "It would be quite easy to get hold 01 some, but there is no need to do that; ask Rex about hiswedding in Canada ten years ago, and ho will then tell you everything." "No there, must be some mistake, it can't be true. I will ring Rex up and ask him to come here at once." Marjorie slipped out of the house while Una was r.t the telephone. She left with mixed feelings.

■CHAPTER XIW Una stood with her ear to the receiver waitin<* with almost uncontrollable excitement to bo put through. It would be all right, of course. Rex would onlylaugh when he heard of Marjorie's preposterous story about that Canadian marriage, but nevertheless she felt the urgent necessity for seeing him at once. "Mr. Cunningham - away till to-mor-row afternoon?" she echoed- blankly, when the head clerk answered' her. "You say ho asked you to let me know as he had to catch a train?" .'., , She rang off, and wandered aimlessly from room to room, wondering how she could possibly wait a day to learn the truth from Rex himself. Her loyalty forbade that she should try to get at the facts by any other means. She recalled many episodes of the past few weeks which had now acquired a new significance, try though she might to dismiss them from her mind. She even be<mn to find it strange that Rex^should be°so suddenly called.away on business, although her reason told her it was the most natural thing in the world. Independent by .circumstance rather than by disposition, she longed to lay her troubles before a third percon, yet at the same time shrank from doing so. In the midst of her perplexity a visitor called at het flat—Holly Curtis. Una, who had quite forgotten that they were going out together that afternoon to a garden party, received her in some confusion. "I am afraid I am dreadfully early, said Molly, dropping into a chair, "but I thought you wouldn't mind if I rested here for a bit. Tve just escaped from a deadly luncheon party." ."Of course not," replied Una. 'Til go and get ready at once. But don't you think it is rather hot in here; hadn't I better open a window?" She crossed the room as she spoke, and Molly, looking at her more closely, gave a startled exclamation. ■ > "Is anything the matter? Don't you feel well?" she asked anxiously. Una tried to smile, and swayed slightly. Then, for the first time in her life, she fainted. ' When she recovered consciousness, she found herself sitting on the floor, while Molly held her head down between her knees. ' • Later the other girl insisted upon her rroiw straight to ged, and then sat beside her in the darkened room, applying eau-de-Cologne bandages ,to her head.. "You have not been looking at all well lately," Molly told her. "Quite a lot of •us have noticed it, and after this afternoon you simply must get away somewhere and have a complete change." Una lay there, passive, exhausted hardly listening to what was said to her. How would she be able to g_et through the next twenty-four hours in this uncertainty, especially if she had to he there inactive in bed? Looking up at Molly, she reminded her about the garden party. "You surely don't expect me to.let you stay here all alone, do you?" asked Molly in surprise. "I wouldn't dream of leav-

ing you by yourself. Didn't you say that Mrs. Blaney would not be back till the day after to-morrow? You must let me look after you."

Una demurred rather weakly, but was secretly glad that the other girl was not going. "

Molly proved to be an efficient nurse, and managed to persuade Una to sleep a little. When she brought in the tea a little..before five, the invalid was feeling almost herself again. ?;

They talked about general subjects for a time chiefly about music and the affairs of the WJ?. Federation, and then, during a short spell of; silence, Una suddenly approached the subject nearest her heart.

. "It was absurd of me to faint' like that this afternoon," she began haltingly, "but for a long time I have been very worried. It's about Hex." Molly looked up, startled. "About Rex?" she repeated. "But I thought you were so very happy."

Una sighed and moved her head restlessly to and fro on the pillow. Underneatii the bedclothes her fingers locked and' interlocked nervously.

"You have seen such a lot of us lately, together I mean," she began with a certain hesitation. "Did you really think that everything was ideal?"

Molly, grateful for the fact that the blinds were still drawn, leaving the room in semi-darkness, ■ did some rapid thinking. like a traitor if she listened to Una's confidences, yet did not know how to check the sensitive girl without wounding her. She resolved to be as non-committal as possible.

"Everything appeared to be all right on the surface," she told her.

"I am glad of. that," replied Una, with relief.. "I did not want anyone to suspect anything. Perhaps it was only my imagination, after all."

"What did you imagine?" Holly's voice, in spite of her efforts, sounded strangely "sharp and anxioiis. "That Rex was not happy. That there was something wrong somewhere.'* "Surely you were mistaken," said Molly. "Everyone thought he was. so very lucky; The marriage seemed ideal in every way."

• She felt acutely the difficulties of her position. If Una at any time found out that she had been Rex's wife, she would never forgive her for being the recipient lof.'her confidences.! On the other hand, she could not tell her the truth. Yet she wondered what could have occurred to so completely upset the girl.

"It should be ideal," continued Una with a discouraged drop in her voice, "but ever since the actual day when he • \

bought :.me my engagement. ring .. he seems ■ to' have ■ "changed. I" that afternoon so well; we had the "most' wonderful time looking at rings, and afterwards we had tea at the WJJ , ., and—why that was , the first time I ever saw you—you walked into the lounge that very evening just as we were finishing tea." ; .. ■

Molly gave - a start, unnoticed by the other) still absorbed in her own thoughts. "Ever since that'day he has seemed different," Una § went on, "and I don't know what" is .-the? matter."

She broke off, and buried her face in the pillow.' Molly leaned forward, her expression tense, and said nothing. ■

. "The worst of it is," said Una, half to herself j "I love him so much, I can't give him up." •; - ;

■ "Biit there is , no need for you: to .think of giving him up," interposed Molly gently..

Una ruffled her, copper hair and sat up in bed, clasping her knees with her hands. '..■ .;:. ..; ' -■

.: "Of. course not,"/she said, with a forced laugh. "But : this afternoon Mar-, jorie Hartley came to me with such an absurd story. I/rang up Rex at oneej naturally, but unfortunately he is away until to-morrow."

"What did Marjorie tell you?" asked Molly, her heart beginning to hammer.;

"Oh, it was really too fantastic, Rex will be. ever.so amused when I tell him about it. But just for the moment it gave me a shock." '

"What did she tell you?" i. Molly found it impossible to keep her anxiety out of her voice, but fortunately tho other girl was too absorbed to notice anything.

"It was some perfectly absurd story about -Bex having been married in Canada'ten years ago. But, of course, it can't be true. He would never have asked me to marry him without first telling me all about it, I know him well enough for that."

Molly drew back sharply, and for a moment covered her face with her hands.

"What would you do if you found out that the stDiy. was true J" she inquired, almost in a whisper.

• "I don't know. I think it would break my heart," replied Una with a sim-' plicity that was pathetic. v^

"But you wouldn't mind if tie —the wife had died—or there had been. a divorce J" .' ..

"Rex would have told me if anything like that lad happened," reiterated Una. "That is why I know that Marjorie must have got hold of the wrong story."

"Are you going to tell Rex about It?" • Diia'looKed ;np; in:, surpriee-. ' "Why, of course; ,, she eaid. "But naturally I know he will only laugh at the very . absurdity of such an idea. I have left a message for him at his office telling him to come straight here. to see me the very instant he gets back to-morrow. Molly bowed her head arid: said'nothing. . (To be continued Saturday .next;)