Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 554, 5 January 1929, Page 17

Island’s Thorne

(Serial Story)

(Published by Special Arrangement)

BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

CHAPTER XI.—THE ACCIDENT. Hugh's fair face flushed, another symptom which did not escape the keen old man watching him. "I like Sydney immensely,” he answered. ‘‘She thought you were very tired, sir, so I came to see if you were »U right. Is there anything I can do tor you?” “Nothing, thanks,” answered Mr. Thorne with unwonted graciousness. “Sydney tells me you are teaching her to fish. If you get a decent basket to-night I should like to see it. The hays round the islands should be C£ ttein to give you sport.” "That is where we are going,” said Hugh. ‘‘Sydney is a promising pupil, the is so apt; her eye is good and her hand light. She is very keen, too, and wants to learn properly; she even makes mo let her tie her own vasts and all that sort of thing. It is a real pleasure to teach her. I think we should be getting off now lor the evening rise.” As his nephew closed the door Mr. Thorne'3 dmile broadened. A look of ShtlafacMon crept over his face. "It will adjust itself.” he said aloud to an old black spaniel basking on hearth. ‘‘l am sure of Hugh—he give me no trouble. As for the Sirl—wpu, women can always be ■hade to see the suitable thing if they are , carefully and suitably handled, tsnt that so, Nigger?” digger raised his head sleepily at o sound of his name, lou and 1, Nigger, are the onoolters who see how the game is Raping,” continued the old man. “At Ju eaen t the players are not conscious ut the magnitude of the stake involved. ■® y , wi ll play my game, though, I am “am of that. Luck is on my side.” digger wagged a stumpy tail and Himself to sleep again. But th , ~Horne had overlooked the fact ri* 1 °ther players besides the two on ,i . oln He was counting were also par- _ fating in the game, and which he ° ned to arrange so carefullly—kii rs whom, as yet, he had no hpirt'', 1 k <l8e; and one of these players (.111 “ e stron gest cards in the trump 'i.n’ and waR > n a position to take * h c ° ntrol at any moment, star 8 ■ Hulied out from the landing g e , J'ttH long, steady strokes, which *at lae *'®Ht boat through the calm i° f tlle lalle at a round, pace. He ( 0 .“Fays at his best on the lake, ml , loved it, and was a thorough lot ler f ot Hts craft, and Sydney could *la B«. refrain from casting occasional Sold. i_° f a <lm>ration at his bare how s “ ead and the powerful arms, ri “ a^ e to the elbow, which manipuSilch i- e oars with such skill and “ttle apparent effort.

He chatted pleasantly as he made his way across the lake to a chain of islets where the sheltered bays were In shadow, telling the girl of the big fish that were reputed to dwell in the deep holes; of wild storms that sometimes lashed the waters to fury in the winter, and how once in the eighteenth century, during one of these sudden squalls, the ferry boat containing a wedding party had been overwhelmed and all on board drowned. As he talked light puffs of balmy wind ruffled the surface of the water, causing it to break into ripples, and here and there a heavy plop announced that the trout had begun their evening rise. Hugh changed the course of the boat and pulled up to one end of the lake so that the boat might drift down before the wind out to the islands. “This breeze is topping,” he said to Sydney as she settled herself in the stern and prepared her line for casting. She had not forgotten his lesson of ttie morning, he noticed with satisfaction, and he commended her on this. “Conditions are just what we want, he remarked. “The sun is a bit bright at present, but it will go down soon, and the ripples give us every chance.” He rested on his oars, and Sydney commenced casting. The light east with its three flies, flew out straight and true, alighting so gently on the water that there was no splash. As the flies fluttered on the surface, artfully manipulated by Sydney, a fish rose savagely. He turned completely over as he struck at the fly; the fishers had a glimpse of a large tail, as the rod point bent and tbe taut line ran out. “He is a big one,” said Sydney in a voice tremulous with excitement. “I do hope I shall manage to land him." “Keep your rod point up,” directed Hugh, shipping the oars for fear the mad rushes of the fish should foul them. "Let him have his head a bit, hut whatever you do don't let the line get slack. Don't be too hard on him or he will break your line. He is a good fish.” He was indeed; Sydney played him with skill and judgment, surprising in a novice; he fought desperately, and the excitement of the couple in the boat rose high. The light craft trav-

elled fast, driven by the freshening breeze, and the occupants were both so deeply engrossed with the fish that they did not heed where she was going. Sydney dexterously brought the captive within reach of Hugh, who was waiting with the landing net, but just as he was about to secure the prize there was a heavy bump, a jar and a crash, the boat stopped abruptly, water rushing through a gaping hole in her side. Hugh hastily dropped fish and net into the bottom of the boat, which was now well awash, and gave an exclamation of dismay as he saw what had happened. “Heavens!” he cried. “We have run on a roek. I had no idea we had come along at such a pace. Take a good hold of the oars, Sydney, she is going down.”

As he spoke the boat gave a shiver and slowly settled down into the deep water surrounding the jagged pinnacle of submerged rock which had been their undoing. Sydney, clinging to the oars, floated clear, and Hugh, a firstrate swimmer, shook the water from his eyes and took his bearings. “Can you swim?” he asked his companion anxiously as he paddled beside her and gave her support. “No!” sputtered Sydney, “I cannot, and oh! Hugh, w'e have lost the fish.”

“Damn the fish,” Hugh exploded, -with all the irritation of a badlyfrightened man. “Look here, Sydney, keep quite still and I will try to tow you to the island. It Is only about fifty yards; with good luck I ought to be able to manage it. There! I’ve succeeded in kicking my shoes off; what a mercy I’m not in boots.”

Sydney kept her head admirably, and did everything she was told. Her clothes, as they became saturated, weighed her down, but she did not struggle, and after some time Hugh did manage to tow her and himself to the rocky islet, and they scrambled ashore in safety, dripping and shivering, but cheerful.

The island was a solitary one, a couple of hundred yards from the shore, and Hugh .gazed round him with dismay. "We are at the far end of the lake, right away from everywhere,” he said dolefully. “The wind is against us, too, and there is no chance of making anybody hear us even if we shout ourselves hoarse. I was a fool to take the light boat, if I had taken the old tub we might have bumped into a dozen rocks and done no harm. She is such a heavy brute to row. I never use her unless the water is rough.” The expression on his face was so deplorable that Sydney began to laugh, though her lips' were blue and her teeth chattering. "Somebody is sure to look for us when we do not turn up,” she said as cheerfully as she could. "We must just make the best of it; there is nothing else to be done. Suppose we run after each other to warm us up a bit. The lake water is much colder than it looks.”

“We might have to wait for hours at that rate,” said Hugh. “You will catch your death of cold, if we have to stay here till it occurs to some one to come and look for us; they won’t discover for ages and ages that we are missing. No, that plan won’t do, but I’ll tell you what; I’ll make an effort to swim ashore and fetch the other boat back for you. Dll be as quick as I can, but I fear it will take a good while. Keep moving till I come back, and perhaps you won’t take much harm. Do you catch cold easily?’' “No,” she told him.

Before she could attempt to dissuade him from doing as he proposed, he had plunged into the water and, swimming like an otter, was making for the nearest point of the mainland. Sydney stood where she yas watching him anxiously, then she gave a great sigh of relief as, reaching the bank, he pulled himself out on to it, and, pausing an instant to turn and wave encouragement, to her, hobbVd as quickly as his stockinged feet would allow him over the rocky beach to the grass above high-water mark. Once this was reached he began to run in the direction of the boathouse where the Island's Thorne boats were kept. Then the girl remembered what he had told her, and began moving about. She was very cold, and her damp clothes clogged her actior>; and •weighed ‘ her down, but she did her

best, thojigh it was with deep thankfulness that at last, after what had seemed an interminable interval,, she was welcoming her cousin back with the boat.

Hugh helped her in, and looked at her with apprehension, as she could not control her teeth, and they chattered loudly. Sydney looked cold and chilled after her immersion.

“You'd better come up to the house,” suggested Hugh. “It is not so far as ‘The Nest,’ and they will look after you there.” “No," she replied decidedly. “That is just what I do not want to do. I would much rather go straight to ‘The Nest.’ it will be much the best in the end.”

“I’m horribly worried about you,” the man persisted. “X can never forgive myself for being so careless as to bring you into such danger, and if you are ill or suffer in any way I shall blame myself still more ” He headed the boat for a point where the road ran by the shore, and helped her to laud. Sydney summoned up a smile. “I have quite enjoyed my shipwreck,” she told him. "No, Hugh,” as she saw what was his intention, “you are not to come with me; you are to go straight back and change your clothes: it is quite as important for you to take precautions as it is for me. You look lavender colour, so do

not waste any more time, but go as fast as ever you can.” She held out her hand to him, and, seeing that she meant what she said, he obeyed, and let her return to “The Nest” alone. He watched her set off down the road at a brisk, steady run, then pushed off in the boat, and pulled as quickly as he could up to Island's Thorne.

“She is plucky,” he said to his uncle when he told him about the mishap. “She kept her head when we were in the water, and she never complained about the cold, which must have been horrid, when she waited for me to come with the boat. She is simply splendid. I am quite all right now I’ve had dinner. I think I’ll go down to ‘The Nest’ and see if she is warm and none the worse for it all.”

“Do,” said Mr. Thorne affably. “Give her my love, and tell Mrs. Fraser to keep her in bed to-morrow if she thinks it wise. If you think it would be better, Hugh, you might send a message to Harting to come out and see her.”

But when Hugh reached “The Nest” Mrs. Fraser quickly assured him. She laughed at the idea of the doctor, told him that Miss Tohrne was not only warm, but complaining that she would soon be roasted with the hot bottles and drinks which were given to her every now and then. She had had a hot bath, was now comfortably in bed; she had eaten a good dinner, and would probably soon be fast asleep. “Dinna fash yersel’, Mr. Hugh,” Jean told him. “She’ll be quite hersel’ tomorrow. I’ll tell her you've been to ask how she is: she’ll be glad to hear you are no worse yersel’.” “I will be down first thing in the morning.” said Hugh. “Good-night, Mrs. Fraser.” Jean Fraser watched him with a canny smile on her face. “I’ve nae doot ye will, my laddie,” she thought,, as she returned to her kitchen fire. “I’m tliinkin’ ye’ve done yersel’ a good turn the day. Ye’ve gone up in Miss Sydney’s eyes more than a wee bit. I’m thinkin’ Mr. Thorne will no’ be ill pleased neither.” CHAPTER XII.—THE OTHER GUEST. Lady Greenthwaite’s glance rested reflectively on the girl beside her as the motor sped swiftly along the winding, hilly road to Underbank. “You and Hugh seem to be getting on famously,” she said after a short silence. “Oh, yes.” returned Sydney carelessly. “We are really excellent frieuds considering the short time we have known each other; of course, our shipwreck yesterday helped enormously. We might have been friends since childhood now. At first Hugh was rather stiff and chilly, but I quite understood that he was not very pleased to see me. Mr. Thorne had sprung my coming on him so suddenly, he had not had time to get used to the idea before I arrived. It

was hardly fair on him. He is quite different now, however, and for myself I like him very much indeed. He has been very good to me.” “He rather gave me the impression that he did not altogether relish my carrying you off with me this afternoon like this,” said Lady Greenthwaite. “He looked uncommonly blue, I thought, when I appeared.” * “Oh, that was because he was keen to fish with me again this evening,” Sydney laughed. “You see the Mayfly is on just now, and the fishing is very good. fie tells me I shall not do so well as I have done so far once the May-fly is over. It does not last very long, as you know.” “By the way,” said Lady Greenthwaite, “we have another guest for dinner to-night—Neil Fraser, the son of your landlady. He has come down to see my father about some business, and is staying the night. I don't know if anyone has told you about him; his story is really quite romantic. He started life as a pantry boy at Island’s Thorne, then after your father went away he went out to South Africa, and made a large fortune. He is a very clever and a very lucky man. He served in the Army during the war. and greatly distinguished himself. He now has a house in London, and wanted his people to join him—but didn’t 1 tell you that, and how be bought “The Nest” for them the other day? They are very proud of him of course, and he often comes down to see them. He is not at all ashamed of his humble origin, though he is a man of position and influence. This is Underbank. Sydney.” The motor swept in at a gate with a lodge beside it, up a well-kept drive to a long, low house nestling under the foothills of a range of mountains, and drew up at an open door. An old butles and a footman appeared as the two ladies descended from the car, and ushered them in. The butler wore a curious air of confusion.

“Her ladyship is out,” he informed them. “She is gone to tea at the vicarage. Will you have your tea in the boudoir, my lady?” “No, in the drawing room,” said Lady Greenthwaite. staring at him. “Come along, Sydney.” She led the way across a very large hall into a long, low room, delightfully furnished. A large fire burnt in one of the wire fireplaces, and two men, busy over it, turned in dismay as the two ladies advanced upon them. “Father!” exclaimed Lady Greenthwaite, “what on e.nrth are you doing?”