Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 546, 26 December 1928, Page 5

Island’s Thorne

(Serial Story)

(Published by Special Arrangement)

BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

CHAPTER I. —THE MASTER OF ISLAND’S THORNE. “I suppose you have made no mistake,” said the old man huddled in a big chair by the fire, John Ismay Thorne, of Island’s Thorne. He always had fires burning throughout the year, for age made him feel the cold, and the old house perched on a peninsula of the lake was damp and chilly even in the height of summer. The elderly doctor’s thin lips tightened as he put his stethoscope, of a pattern which had long been discarded by up-to-date men. into his tall hat, which had an equally venerable appearance. “I am not given to making mistakes,” he snapped. John Thorne glanced at him, sardonic amusement twinkling in his deep-set, hard, grey eyes. At the best of times he was not a pleasant looking old man, and his manner of living gave rise to many stories in the neighbourhood where Jjis residence was situated. He was a hermit, and a misanthrope, and as is the way when people do not know anything about someone else, invention was allowed full play, and the most wonderful rumours as to what went on at Island’s Thorne were the result. The old man dwelt with his nephew, Hugh Ormandy, in the big house. Hugh was the only child of a dead sister of Thorne’s, and filled the positions of agent, secretary, and general factotum to the estate. No woman was admitted within the walls of Island’s Thorne. All the servants were men, most of them elderly retainers who had passed the whole of their lives in the service of the eccentric master whom they hardly ever saw. Many years before, the wife of John Ismay Thorne had died, leaving one small son, Sydney Ismay Thorne, and it was on this child that all the widower’s hopes and ambitions had centred. The boy was sent first to Eton, then to Cambridge. He was given every advantage, and it was intended that he should make a suitable match and provide a line of sturdy heirs Ito carry on the traditions of the old house. John Thorne had a girl chosen and ready. He was only waiting a suit able opportunity for speaking to Sydney about his marriage, when the young man. who was reading for the Bar with the intention of going into Parliament later, took a step which shattered for ever all the wonderful schemes which had been woven for him. Sydney married the daughter of It was a crushing blow, and the old

man never recovered from it. The delinquent was cast out. and forbidden to enter the door of Island’s Thorne again. The estate was not entailed, so he was disinherited and turned adrift, penniless and unprepared, to face the world; and provide a living for himself and his young wife. Sydney had inherited the full mead of the family pride; he went to London, and from the day of his departure the great city swallowed him up entirely, and no news of him was received by the bitter old man who had treated him so harshly. John Thorne was hard and unforgiving because his son had chosen a woman of the people; he turned every woman out of his house, shut himself off from everyone, and lived the life of a recluse. Hugh Ormandy, son of a poor country clergyman, was sent for, and from his coming the young man had been educated and prepared for the post he was to fill. He was 22 when he came to live with his uncle, and now he was 35. He had ability, and did his work well to a point, but there was a strain of weakness in his character his crafty relative fully realised and took advantage of. It was said openly in the village of Thornes that Hugh dared not call his soul his own. It was generally believed and looked upon as a settled fact that Hugh Ormandy would in the fullness of time succeed his uncle; he was regarded as the heir to the estate for which he had worked so hard, and for which he had a passionate love, only equalled by that of the present owner. “Another opinion might perhaps be advisable.” Mr. Thorne mooted the suggestion with a malicious glance at Dr. Harting. The doctor grunted contemptuously He was one of the very few people who had no fear of John Thorne. “You may get the whole College of Physicians down if you like,” he barked. “They can only tell you the same as I have done. You have serious organic mischief of the heart, which may prove fatal at any moment. You may live for years, but you are far more likely to die suddenly and soon. It is no use mincing matters with you, John Thorne, or trying to put things delicately. I have told you the truth, I should have disguised it to some people, but you are one of the type that likes to call ‘a spade a spade.' ” “I should have said you had called it a damned old shovel this time,” said Thorne, with his twisted grin. "For you are shovelling me out pretty quickly. If you treat many people like you treat me, I wonder you have any patients left.” The doctor took his hat from the table on which he had deposited it, and drew on his thick driving gloves. “It is lucky for me all people are not like you,” he said equably. “I repeat, put your house in order, John Thorne, make your peace with God and man while yet there is time; lead a quiet, undisturbed life, and adhere to the diet I have laid down. That is all I have to say. I will send you some medicine, though I doubt if you will take it, though you will if you are wise.” He nodded to the old man by the fire and went out, leaving the patient, to whom he had just given sentence of