The Shadow of a Dream

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 273, 8 February 1928, Page 5

The Shadow of a Dream

Eye

Charles Procter.

Mithor o» * A Splendid Butterfly .* "The Woman Pay*.’ “The CocHwei Combine * 'An Innocent Adventures* ~ dc. dc

CHAPTER XXV. —LADY VALENTINE’S PLAN

"My dear, you must not talk like that,” said her aunt, reprovingly, although the words cheered her. “I have sent for the doctor, and I have engaged a woman to act as your nurse. You will be all right in a few days.” She talked for a few minutes, then went back to the sitting-room looking less displeased. "She might die, and in any case it shouldn't be difficult to make her so desperate and unhappy that she will take her own life if she gets the chance,” she soliloquised, her eyes glinting. “Then here there is always the chance of a slip that will mean a broken neck when climbing the hills or passing a quarry; and as everyone will soon know she is not quite sane there will be no questions asked and no suspicious inquiries. It should be managed without much trouble. There is a certain risk —a certain danger, but it means ten thousand pounds to me, and if anything should happen to Geoffrey later, I shall get everything. Twenty thousand pounds!” She was still sitting brooding and planning when an elderly woman, who had been a sort of honorary housekeeper for years, opened the door to announce that the doctor had arrived. The doctor, who was shown in a minute later, was a bearded, bright-eyed, weather-beaten man of about sixty. He had been the local doctor for thirty years; knew everyone in the district; knew all about the Moncriefs, and had a great respect for Lady Valentine. “I’m pleased to see your ladyship back,” he said in his deep voice, with a broad accent, as he shook hands. ‘‘l hear you’ve brocht your niece wi’ you —she’ll be the last of the Moncriefs, I think.”

"Yes, doctor, and the poor girl is far from well,” answered Lady Valentine, signing to the doctor to seat himself. "I have brought her here to take care of her in the hope that the quiet and fine air will restore her health and her mind.”

She emphasised the last words, and the doctor raised his shaggy brows ininquiringly. Her ladyship met his questioning eyes, and nodded signifiantly.

"Yes, the trouble is mental as much as anycthing,” she resumed. “The poor child has lost her reason, and I have brought her here in preference to sending her to an asylum, as I think she may recover.” "Mental cases are hardly in my line, your ladyship, and I think maybe you’d be well advised to put the poor young lady in the care of a specialist,” commented the doctor.

"Oh, she isn’t actually mad,” explained Lady Valentine. “I’ve had the opinion of an Edinburgh specialist, and he thinks she will recover, she merely suffers from delusions as a result of shock.”

Shg proceeded to relate in her own plauflble fashion how the boat on which Monica had been travelling had been torpedoed, and Monica had been landed in Leith suffering from brain fever. She told of Monica’s loss of memory, and explained that the girl suddenly developed illusions, fancied herself an heiress, evidently believed that her aunt and cousin were trying to rob her, and eventually ran away. "Two days ago. just after I had found her again, she was knocked down by a motor-car,” concluded her ladyship. “And now she professes that she has recovered her memory. But she still persists that she is an heiress, says she is engaged to the son of an American millionaire, and that she hates her cousin, to whom she is really e ngaged. I am very distressed about it. particularly as she is in a melancholy state, and talks about wanting to die.”

The doctor grunted, shook his head, tugged at his beard, and finally suggested that he had better see the young | : tdy. His face brightened as he examined Monica, who answered his questions. quietly and listlessly. “Oh, I think you’re right, your ladyship." he said, as he returned to the sitting room with Lady Valentine a little later, after he had dressed Monica’s injured head. "I think the delusions are just the effects of the shock, and she’ll do all right when she gets well again. Nobody would dream that there’s anything wrong, and she just wants looking after carefully. She’s a bonny girl, and she’s got the Moncrief eyes.”

“I’ve engaged Mrs. Aitken as a sort of nurse and helper for her,” explained her ladyship with a nod, "and I’ve told her the whole story.” The doctor grunted again, gave a few instructions, and took his departure. ” hen he called next morning he found Monica sitting up and looking much better, and being tended by Janet Aitken, who was a silent capable woman, a widow, of severe countenance. Next day Monica had sufficiently recovered to get up. and even went out for a little way accompanied by both her aunt and Mrs. Aitken. It happened that the next two days were very wet, rain falling continuously as only it can fall in the Highl*nds. But on the third day the sun came out again, and the day cleared. Monica, who had been very silent and

depressed, decided to go for a long walk by herself. She wanted to think, and particularly wanted to be alone. So immediately after breakfast she donned a tweed hat and jacket and walked out, only to find herself pounced upon immediately by Mrs. Aitken. “Where are you going?” asked the woman firmly. "You must wait for me, miss.”

“Wait for you”! exclaimed Monica, |n surprise, wondering if the woman iiad taken leave of her senses. "I don’t want you to come with me.” "Maybe so,” commented Mrs. Aitken, grimly, "but I’m coming. I’m here to look after you, and I’m not letting you oot o’ mv sicht, miss. You’ll just come in, please, till I get my bonnet ori, and then we’ll go oot if you like.”

“But—but this is ridiculous,” exclaimed Monica indignantly. “How dare you interfere with me? Let me go at once.” She tried to wrench herself free, but Mrs. Aitken was a big, powerful woman, with a grasp like that of a strong man, and she simply caught hold of Monica and lifted her by main force back into the house.

"Now just you bide a few minutes,” she ordered, in tones meant to be soothing, when she had hustled the girl into the passage and shut the door. Furious with indignation, Monica drew herself up, her fine eyes flashing, then rushed into the sitting room in which she had left her aunt reading a paper which had arrived by post. “Aunt, I think Mrs, Aitken has gone crazy,” she gasped. “She won’t let me go out, and she forced me back into the house.”

Lady Valentine, who had heard what had passed, laid down her paper and rose to her feet.

“My dear child, pray calm yourself,” she said quietly, her thin face expressionless. “You are not quite yoursel, and Mrs. Aitken has been engaged to take charge of you.” “To take charge of me,” repeated Monica, ‘but I don’t need anyone to take charge of me. And I refuse to be treated like a child who must have a nurse with her.” “You cannot be allowed, in your present condition, to go out without an attendant,” said Lady Valentine, in level tones, “and if you are violent or attempt to escape you will be placed under restraint.” Monica stared at her, her eyes widening in amazement, not unmixed with dread, and her face paling. “What do you mean?” she demanded, breathlessly. "Do you mean that you are going to keep me a prisoner here, that you have trapped me?” “Not at all, my dear,*' responded her aunt, with an exasperating smile. “But your condition demands that you shall have a keeper # who will watch your every movement and prevent you from doing yourself an injury. I don't want to be compelled to send you to an asylum, although your behaviour has been so strange. And you will be quite comfortable here if you behave. If you try to escape or to communicate with Jervis O’Neill—well, you will be placed under restraint and punished.” (To be Concluded.)