The Shadow of a DREAM

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 256, 19 January 1928, Page 5

The Shadow of a DREAM

By

Charles- Procter.

Author oi * A Splendid Butterfly." "The Women Pays.* “The Kocßwei> Combine * "An Innocent Adventuress ” 6c. dc

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS 1., 11. and lll.—Monica Moncriof is in the s.s. Glenogle, returning from South America to England. Jervis O’Neill, the third officer, converses with her. He tells her that he once worked for six weeks on her father’s ranch, and saved her from a nasty experience. He gives her details of his life. Monica tells him that her aunt, Lady Valentine, to whom she is going, is a stranger, and she is full of doubt concerning her new life. Jervis declares his love for her, and Monica responds. She recollects that she is engaged to her cousin, Geoffrey Valentine. That young man appears, enraged. He takes Monica to her cabin, and then returns to Jervis, who makes him understand that he, Jervis, is going to marry Monica. He threatens Geoffrey with the knowledge he possesses of the young man’s past. Geoffrey tries to make up to Monica, who is indifferent. She falls asleep, hnd is awakened by a deafening crash. The Glenogle has been torpedoed by a. submarine. Jervis comes to the rescue of Monica. Valentine shrieks to be allowed to get in one of the boats. The one in which Monica finds herself collides with the sinking liner, and its occupants are thrown into the sea. Monica fights for her life. Everything goes dark.

CHAPTER IV.—THE REAWAKENING Monica opened her eyes languidly to And herself in a cool place of many shadows. Then her lids closed again, for even to keep her eyes open required an effort. Something strange seemed to have happened to her head, she found that she was almost unable to move hand or foot, and she felt as she closed her eyes again as if she were floating uneasily in space. She was conscious of having passed through some terrible and terrifying experience, of having struggled through a grey, cold world peopled by hideous shapes that menaced her, clutched at he?—a nightmare world that was worse than death. She had vague memories of struggling in frantic terror w ith something something deadly cold that paralyzed her limbs and robbed her of strength—and of crying repeatedly to someone to aid her in her desperate struggle—to someone who paid no heed to her cries. She raised her hand to her headdiscovering with a shock that it re nuired an effort to do so—then, fully awake tried to sit up, only to drop back h otes yon her pillows with a moaning Mgh, frightened by her own weakness Almost instantly a screen at the ? f' Jr the bed was moved, and a white-canned, white-aproned nurse bent qSSSy over her. smiling reassuringly. “Awake’” she said in a low tone, Awake. =1 and on Monica’s brow, havfh! ld in a to sp h l?ndi , d t s?e n e t p? sSsSsSSSisjssss ■•What has happened? ..... i n Leith Infirmary, my , u t i‘ nurse answered, adjusting dear, the have had a touch of her Pillows. YOU have nau ter _ brain fever as a are better "Sn asain ' Now ‘ go to sleep-

Monica closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them quickly again and caught the nurse’s hand as she was about to move away. “Please don’t leave me, nurse,” she pleaded. “Stay a little while and explain. I—l don’t understand. I can remember nothing—nothing at all. Help me, nurse, please. Tell me how I came here. Leith Infirmary, you say? Leith is in Scotland, near Edinburgh, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes, and you are quite safe,” responded the nurse reassuringly, patting Monica’s hand. “It will come back to you, dearie. You were picked up by a Norwegian boat —you were unconscious, but were clinging to a floating seat, and they say you must have been in the water for two hours —and you were landed here. The captain did all he could for you, but 1 think he should have put into one of the ports in the South of England and landed you there instead of continuing his voyage. Perhaps it never occurred to l\im. He -was bound from Bordeaux to Bergen, and had to call at Leith to discharge some cargo and load some, so he brought you here, after doing what he could for you during the four days he had you on board.” “I don’t understand,” said Monica weakly, her brows drawn together as she wrestled with the question. “I don’t remember anything. Did I fall into the water?”

“You were on board the Genogle when it was torpedoed by a German submarine in the English Channel, somewhere near Land’s End,” the nurse explained patiently. Monica moved her head in distress. The information conveyed nothing to her. Her mind was a blank, and she had no memory of the past, save of the grey, deadly cold shapes that had menaced her. “I don’t remember,” she said again slowly. “I don’t even remember who I am—don’t remember anything. Do you know who I am?” “Yes, my dear,” the nurse answered encouragingly. “Your name is Monica Moncrieff. We didn’t know at first who you were, but when the no .vspapers published the news about you having been picked up by the Christian and landed here vou were soon identified as a survivor of the Glenogle, and we found out your name. Your aunt. Lady Valentine and Mr Geoffrey Valentine, your cousin, have both been here to see you while you have been ill. and they are going to take you away as soon as you are well enough. Surely vou remember now? And another gentleman has been here, too, a Mr. O’Neill, one of the officers of the Glenoble. You remember him. perhaps?” “Mr. O’Neill —Mr. O’Neill?” Monica

murmured,, The name seemed to stir some chord of memory, and her eyes brightened for a moment; . then the light died out of her face again and once more her brows drew together. “No, I—l can’t remember!” she said shakily. “Well, well, never mind, my dear!” said the nurse. “It will all come back to you as you get stronger. Don’t worry about it. You have been very ill, but you will soon be better now. The sight of your friends will bring your memory back. Go to sleep now, and don’t worry your head about it. Everything wiU be all right.” A doctor put in an appearance a little later, took her temperature, felt her pulse, then nodded smilingly. “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “We shall have you well again in no time. You’ve had a long spell of it, and have had a bad time, but you’ll soon be better now. Do you remember what happened?” The nurse had reported her conversation with Monica, and -the doctors question was of the nature of a feeler. “No, that is the most extraordinary thing in the world, ’ said Monica, with an eager, anxious look in her fine eyes. “I have tried and tried, doctor, but I can remember nothing at all. The past is a complete blank to me. I don’t even know who I am; I know nothing more than the nurse told me last night. It—it is very dreadful. Am I really better and—quite sane—l mean—oh, I felt as if I were dreaming!” “You have been very ill, my lass,” the doctor responded gravely, patting her hand and seating himself on a chair by the bedside. “Yes, you are quite sane and sensible now, and should make a good recovery. But shock and brain fever play queer tricks with the memory. As you gain strength your memory may come back. Are you sure you can remember nothing at all?” “Nothing,” Monica answered tremulously. “Tell me what happened, and perhaps I shall be able to recall something.” “I am afraid I can’t help you very much, my dear, out I will tell you what I know about you,” said the doctor, and proceeded to repeat what the nurse had told Monica the nigh£ before. “We knew from the date and particulars Captain Berg of the ‘Christian’ gave that you must have been on board the ‘Glenogle/ and you were soon identified after the news of your arrival here appeared in the papers,” he continued. "‘You were identified by your cousin, Mr. Valentine, who was also on bord the ‘Glenogle’ when she was torpedoed by the German submarine. He was bringing you home from America, I understand. Surely you remember him?” Monica, who had listened eagerly, sighed and shook her head wearily. The name conveyed nothing to her, even her own name seemed scarcely familiar.

“It is no use!” she exclaimed, after a few moments of silence, and tears came to her eyes. “I feel helpless:” “Don’t fret, my dear girl, it will all come back in time,” said the doctor, encouragingly.

“Why, the sight of your cousin may be sufficient to restore your memory completely. You should be well enough to see him to-morrow, and I have no doubt he will be able to tell you everything you wish to know. He is stopping ha Edinburgh, and I will telephone to him to-day if you wish.” Monica thanked him, and looked more hopeful as she lay back on her pillows after he had moved away. She had many questions to .ask the nurses, who were all greatly interested in her, during the day, and she made several discoveries. She discovered, for one thing, r hen she persuaded a nurse to let her see herself in a mirror, that she had not forgotten what she looked like, fof she was conscious of being startled by the change in her appearance, Her face was white and thin,

and her eyes were sunken and seemed almost abnormally large. Then, again, Monica found she could read, and she felt sure she would be able to write, although she was too weak to experiment. She found also that she must have known that Britain and Germany were at war, for she had understood instinctively what was meant by the Glenogle having been torpedoed by a submarine. Therefore, she reasoned, her memory had not entirely failed her, and the sight of someone she knew might restore it altogether. She looked forward eagerly to seeing her cousin, but she was dozing when he was conducted to her bedside next day, and when she opened her eyes to find a tall, slim, fair young man, accompanied by a nurse, standing by her bedside, she blinked, then gazed inquiringly from one to the other. “Why, Monica, don’t you know me?” exclaimed the stranger, a trifle uncertainly, looking decidedly embarrassed. Monica eyed him for a few moments in silence, without a flicker of recognition in her glance. “No, I don’t know you,” slie answered confusedly, for she had been dreaming as she slept. “I—l am Geoffrey Valentine,” stammered her cousin. “Do you mean that you don’t know me, or ” He broke off abruptly, and wiped his lips with a handkerchief he produced from his sleeve. “Geoffrey Valentine!” said Monica, repeating the name in a dazed voice. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you again, and to know you are recovering,” resumed Geoffrey, feeling more and more uncomfortable as Monica continued to gaze at him intently and in silence. “I am so sorry, but it is no use!” exclaimed Monica suddenly, in a queer quivering voice. “I don’t know you, and have no recollection of ever having seen you before. You are—you seem quite a stranger to me.” “But —but, Monica, you don’t mean to say you have forgotten altogether?” stammered Valentine in some dismay. “You don’t mean that you have forgotten you are engaged to be married to me?” “Engaged to be married to you!” repeated Monica weakly. “Why, I don’t know you.” “You can’t have forgotten!” exclaimed Geoffrey Valentine almost fiercely. “It is not possible. It is a trick—a trick you are trying to play on me, but I won’t have it. Do you dare to say you have forgotten it was your father’s dying wish? Do you dare to —to jilt me now, and disregard your father’s dying wishes—break your word ?”

Monica stared at him in startled fashion, alarmed by his violence, scarcely comprehending the meaning of his words. Her expression changed rapidly, her eyes clouded, then suddenly she began to cry gaspingly. The nurse appeared almost at once, seemed to take in .the situation at a glance, and motioned Valentine away.

“I warned you not to excite Miss Moncrief,” she said reprovingly. “You must go now.” “Well, if you want my help, Geof-

frey, you must be quite frank with me,’* remarked Lady Valentine sharply, seating herself and regarding her son coldly and keenly. “How much is the girl worth, and—er —how shall I benefit by helping you?” Lady Valentine was a thin, erect, handsome woman between fifty and sixty. Her features were rather hard, her lips thin, and her hair white, Her remarkable eyes, the Moncrief eyes, of the same unusual colour as Monica's, gave her a striking appearance. She was the widow of a stockbroker who had acquired a big fortune, had eventually been knighted, and then lost nearly all his money in a stock exchange panic during the South African War. “You must be quite frank with me,” she repeated, smoothing out the folds irt her black skirt. Geoffrey Valentine, who had been lounging against the mantelpiece, smoking a cigarette, grunted in annoyance, and made an impatient gesture. “Hang it all, mater, Monica Moncrief is your niece—your brother’s daughter—and you and I are the only relatives she has in the world!” lie exclaimed. “My dear Geoff, how touching!” exclaimed his mother satiricaly. “But I know you too well, my boy, to believe that your motives are entirely disinterested, or to imagine you are concerned solely about the welfare of the poor orphan. I happen to recollect that you did not seem exactly overjoyed when you learned that Monica Moncrief had been rescued.” Geoffrey scowled at her, flung his cigarette into the fire, and thrust his hands into his pockets. “You needn’t be so beastly sarsactic about it,” he retorted sulkily. “After all, Monica Moncrief is a pretty girl, and it isn’t so very remarkable that I should want to mary her.” (To be Continued.^