The Nets of Fate

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 335, 21 April 1928, Page 19

The Nets of Fate

SERIAL STORY

By

OTTWELL BINNS

CHAPTER VIII. | “I hope you won’t think that it is a | piece of impertinence,” he said apologetically. “I think there is no fear of that?” Jocelyn replied smilingly. “I owe you too much for any misunderstanding of that kind. Tell me why you ” “Because, Miss Ambrose, I want to marry you myself.” For a full minute Jocelyn Ambrose stared straight in front of her, without speaking. Her astonishment was indexed on her face, and the man by her side glancing at it grew uneasy. “Ah! I was afraid that you would regard my second reason as an impertinence.” “I have not said that I think it so,” answered the girl hurriedly, “as a matter of fact, I do not; but, of course, I am surprised. I was not expecting :\\iything of that kind.” “No, I daresay not. But why be so surprised? You know how the well-ordered romance runs on all fours. First, the meeting of the hero and the heroine, under dramatic circumstances, then the hero’s reflections and regret that the heroine has passed beyond his ken, later the unexpected meeting, complications, and at last the wedding bells. So far we have been up-to-date, and if I make a short cut to the wedding bells, that after all is what the average reader of romance does in order to obtain ease of mind and enjoy the complications at leisure.” He spoi-_ . , a when he could spare his eyes from the road in front, his glances at her were smiling ones; but for all that she knew that he was in earnest, and was a little troubled in her mind what to do. Finally she gave an embarrassed laugh. “You are a bold man, Mr. Lancaster.” “That,” he replied railingly, ‘is to be expected of a hero of romance.” Jocelyn Ambrose laughed again, a ' little more freely this time. | “But there are one or two considerations that you appear to have for gotten.” “Indeed!” he said cheerfully. “1 am desolated! It is not like me to forget things. Please be explicit, Miss Ambrose.” “Well,” answered Jocelyn, as her face flushed rosily, “you appear to have forgotten that to-day I was to have wedded another man. Even romance could scarcely w arrant such quick-change artistry as ” “I had not forgotten that. Miss Am--1 brose,” he interrupted. “But I unSHOP IN SYMONDS STREET.

derstand that you have definitely made up your mind that »you will never marry Dorian Paxton.” "That is so!” answered Jocelyn quickly. “Not even if he came to you with a plausible and convincing explanation of his failure to appear at Arnhurst this afternoon?” “Not even then!” replied the girl in a tone that he found convincing. He'looked at her with smiling eyes. “Love,” he quoted quickly, “sufEereth long—beareth all thii gs—endureth all things. Even such an experience as —as ” He broke off and inquired softly, “Am I mistaken, Miss Ambrose?” “You are not mistaken, Mr. Lancaster,” Jocelyn replied frankly. T think it is the truth that I never really loved Dorian Paxton. I learned that this afternoon. One can do quite a lot of thinking in half an hour, and I endured a half-hour that was thought-compelling. I will be very candid with you, Mr. Lancaster. . . . I never wanted a secret marriage, but when Dorian Paxton proposed to me a year ago my aunt, who is my guardian, opposed the match ” She broke off and smiled. “If you know anything of girls you will know that opposition only confirms the personal inclination.” John Lancaster permitted himself to laugh. "Men and women are much alike in that, particular.” Jocelyn Ambrose nodded. "I dare say. In any case, I really believe my aunt’s opposition very considerably accounted for my attitude to Dorian. But there were things I did not like about him, and I did not like the thought of this marriage, and this aft ernoon— —” Her voice faltered, and her companion broke in, “Please do not speak of it, Miss Ambrose. It is quite unnecessary. I think I understand. While you waited you saw things in their true perspective, and discovered that after all you did not love Dorian Paxton?” “In the last few minutes I think 1 was afraid lest he should arrive in time. It was a positive relief when the clock struck three without his having appeared.” John Lancaster did not say that the Rev. Charles Hunter had hinted as

much to him. He wanted the girl at his side to forget that hour of humiliation, and had no wish that she should think that his friend and he had discussed her at length. He lifted a hand from the steeringwheel, and waved it airily. “Then the first of your considerations disappears,” he said gaily, “and on that chapter of the romance we will write ‘finis,’ with your permission, Miss Ambrose. But there are other considerations, ‘one or two,’ I think you said. If you will unfold them we can deal with them as ruthlessly!” He looked' whimsically at Jocelyn, and on her face came an embarrassed look. “Well,” s-he said, speaking haltingly, “you say that you want to marry me, but remember, I know nothing about you—except that you are a brave man, that you saved my life, and that your name is John Lancaster.” “And does my name tell you nothing?” Jocelyn shook her heard. “I do not think so!” “You never heard it before?” “Not to my knowledge, though of course it had a familiar ring, due, I daresay, to the surname.” An expression of mock dismay came on her companion’s face. “What is fame?” he. cried. “And I thought my name was a household word —almost.” “Are you so notorious, then?” asked Jocelyn, laughing with him. “Notorious is not a nice word,” he laughed. “It suggests the police courts, scandals, and a character of the utmost shadiness, but, use what word you will to describe my miserable state, it is still the fact that I could not stroll into Christie’s to bay a ginger-jar, without half the papers in London chronicling the fact, while if I bought a picture at a bargain they would multiply the price till it became a fabulous one. The newspapers will never allow a millionaire to spend his money rationally, he ”

Jocelyn Ambrose started as a thought crossed her mind, and she looked at him in wonder as she cried. “Are you John Lancaster, the African millionaire” “In the flesh,” he laughed. “And now you know my name and station, the second consideration that you have to urge disappears. You cannot now pretend that you know nothing whatever about me.” She was still startled at the discovery of his identity, but she smiled as she fenced with him. “That very knowledge gives rise to yet another consideration!” “Produce the brute,” he laughed, “that I may slay it.” “I do not like millionaires.” “It is a prejudice that you share with some millions of others. I have a touch of it myself.” “But you are a millionaire!” “A nice one, I hope!” he said, looking at her laughingly. “And even if one is a millionaire it does not make him less a man.” He broke off abruptly, and when he resumed the laughter had died out of his eyes/ and the strong face was grave. “Miss Ambrose, please believe me when I say that I am in earnest in all that I have said. It is the simple fact that ever since that night of the railway disaster you have been in my thoughts. I have wondered about you, watched for you in London, and have even meditated setting a private inquiry agent at work. 1 think I was only restrained from the latter course by the hope that our second meeting w'ould come about as naturally as our first. Fate, I argued, had thrown us together once, and w’ould do so again.” “That was not very sound reasoning,” said the girl. “People do meet, influence one another’s life, and pass away from each other for ever. ‘Ships that pass in the night,’ you know.” “Yes, I know. But I had quite a profound conviction that we should meet again, and now that we have done so the idea that has steadily shaped itself in my mind is confirmed.” He w-aited, as though expecting his companion to speak, but Jocelyn remained silent, and after a moment he resumed. “You do not. ask what that idea is, and though perhaps it is not neces- ; sary, I insist on telling you. It is one |of the commonplaces that often find j expression, but one that has the sancj tion of a personal conviction. Miss \ Ambrose, you will not smile if I say i that I believe we were born for each • other.” (To be continued).