The Stronger Passion

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 634, 10 April 1929, Page 5

The Stronger Passion

-By

Rowan Glen .

Author of " The Great Anvil The Best Gift of All," For Love or for Gold," &c , &c

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS 111 and IV.—Sir Charles Hart, K.C., thanks Macßae for saving >;s daughters’ life. The latter invites , } »nto the smoke-room and gradually •akes himself known to the judge. Sir narles is much upset, and is eager to no what he can to make amends. Mac- ,; ae stipulates that the judge shall keep • ie fact that he, MacEae, has been a ‘.onvict, locked up in his own breast. His •laughter, Elaine, is not to be told. Air. Justice Hart promises. Elaine enters the tK° n !' After father has introduced doctor, Elaine invites him to come to J na !: r *he Lodge to-morrow night. -lacßae accepts. He reads his corresinnaence. Lilian Man ton and her aunt ® °°nnng to spend part of their holiday *ar him. Blair and Elaine row to an set, to shoot wild duck. Their boat floats •'"ay and they are stranded. She is agiaieu and proposes to swim to the main•\vu , st °Ps that. She says to him: v 'ny do you look at me like that?” CHAPTERS lIV (Continued) to Vl. -'lacßae tells Elaine she is looking oddly They make the best of their rredicamem. light a fire, and sit down sf,. Half-way through the night com * r es Hart, with a couple of men, nri- t 0 l heir rescue. The judge exPre. S e s his disapproval on account of nnr.ii D ’- **ut immediately afterwards he After a wet weather period i'«hm e v and Pringle are fishing one of burns. Macßae, for the moment k le ? from Pringle, slips and hurts r f , . an( * his chin. Elaine. ‘ who is •her father, comes across Blair up his hand. Sir Charles comes f Qt Z S - Pringle returns. The party of uTer m t k K e their wa y to the Harts’s car. * hen Macßae and his servant are rSSF to pther, Pringle details some tlIlg: what he heard passing r>i«A er \, the and his daughter. It • * aeßHe to think that Sir Charles matrimonial plans with reElaine. He hopes some day to !>r I L J ’? st,ce Hart through his daugh(ire.. Tnat night he has a nightmarish <r«sh’;J n *w Whi,h he bark in his cell. pres.i n * the life out of the judge. While ihesthf knee 0,1 to the dead man’s roe'n \ e .‘ e fls a hand on his shoulder, and b > &dsfd e s to nnd P; ingrle Standins CHAPTER VI.—A WAYSIDE EPISODE. I think I’ve read about ’em. sir, e Sunday papers.” he answered. But I don’t hold wi’ that sort of f >tbbish. I’ve turned your bath on. Y °u’ll be getting up?” Yes.” b» Inu re going up the ben. you'll ta , f wa «ing to start just after breakTv, san dwiches are all out.” Ma-u terror <>£ the night forgotten, ~ e went up the ben and througliu ’“? major portion of that day e tl near to its rugged erest. It

was a day of peace and beauty, but the afternoon held its disturbing episode. Hungry and healthily tired, MacRae was walking along the road skirting the loch-side when, from a little strip of woodland near to Sir Charles Hart’s temporary home, there came to him the sound of men’s voices raised in anger. Pausing, be listened, and heard one voice say; “Ouch! well t’ hell wi’ you! Y r ou don’t know who I am, and T don’t know who you are, except that you’re a jumped-up Jenny. Trespassing, am I? Well, what’s that got to do with you? 1 know I'm on the judge’s land, but you’re not the judge.” And another voice of a type with which for many years now, Macßae had been familiar, said: “You’re insolent, my friend. I sup pose you think you can speak as you like because 1 happened to land at that island this morning and you were able to tell me it was private property. What are you, may 1 ask? the local laird —or the local poacher?” Macßae went toward the men, but ere he reached them he heard the sharp “clack” of bone on bone. Presently, he saw Pringle beiug forced back by a bare-headed, ath-letic-looking man of twenty-eight or so; a man who though ordinarily no match for the warder, had the latter at a disadvantage now. Macßae put an end to that. His right hand was still bandaged and painful, but with his left he gripped at the stranger’s shoulder and swung him round. . . „ , -I’m taking a hand m this, he said. "Stand back, Pringle. Its my iob now. It’ it’s trouble you’re wauling ” —he addressed the man whom he held—“you can have it—swagger--4n open palm was slapped into his face, and the blow stung pride rather than flesh. . “That’s the way of it? Macßae asked. “Well, then His damaged right hand was drawn back to strike when, across a wand of sunshine lying on the turf, a shadow came.

Macßae’s arm was caugilt, by two soft hands. Dimly, he heard a voice, whose music he knew, exclaim: “Wky! what’s this? Maurice! Maurice, what does it mean?” Of the three men, simultaneously struck by a shame-bringing sense of folly, it was Macßae who gave the smallest sign of that shame. His arms relaxing, he stood back and that ready smile of hte driving the tensity from his face, turned to Elaine Hart. He noted the unusual colour in her cheeks and the pained wonder in her beautiful eyes. His will ended the petty chaos that had been in his brain, and he spoke quietly. “Good, thing you came along, Miss Hart,” he said. “I think you stopped wliat might have been a very stupid melee. Here are the facts, and I can be corrected later. I was making my way home when I heard voices and recognised one of them as Pringle's. There seems to have been a sort of dust-up between him and —your friend —and then —stupidly, I suppose—-I butted In. That’s about all. For myself, I’ll say that I’m sorry. Pringle looks sorry, too. Are you, Pringle?” “Yes, sir,” Pringle said. “It was only that this gentleman sort o’ irritated me in a manner of speaking. He landed on the island this morning and was kind o’ hoity-toity when I told him —in your interests, sir—that he’d no right there. Then I was here having a quiet smoke when he came along and started telling me off.” Now it was the Hon. Maurice RolHugward's turn. “Elaine,” he said, “we must look a dashed silly trio. I don’t bear any ill-will if those—those people seem to know, don’t either. Perhaps you’ll introduce us?”

The introductions were made, and as he took Rollingward’s proffered hand, Macßae remembered his decision to have the latter as a friend. “It seems to me that we’ve lived a Shakespeare title—‘Much Ado About Nothing,” he said. “I’m glad to meet you. Mr. Rollingward, and ” He turned to the hesitant Pringle: “You needn’t wait, Pringle. You can get back to Arvanrach, and we won’t refer to this episode. I'm not blaming you. You acted in the first case as you thought I’d want you to act. Mr. Rollingward won’t blame you either, I’m sure—once I’ve talked to him.”

When Pringle had gone, Macßae, answering the counsel of a brain which was by far the strongest and most agile there, smiled at Elaine and from Elaine to the Hon. Maurice Rollingward. “Book here!” he said at his most genial. “1 don’t know how you two feel about things, but it’s about the hour when civilised persons take tea. Suppose we stroll down to the village and have it at the Royal Stag?” Between Elaine and Rollingward, an eye-consultation only was necessary. With Macßae dominating them, they walked to Doehrine, and, in the one big hotel there, were his guests. The wayside incident was, it seemed, finally forgotten when Rollingward, answering perhaps a demand of the mind controlling his own. said:

“Well, dash it all! —there you are, Mr. Macßae! We started out to bang each other about, but you’ve explained things handsomely. Fancy you and Elaine being pals! That’s what gets me—when I think how you grabbed at my shoulder.” He laughed aud smoothed with a neat hand his neat moustache. It was while they still lingered at the little tea-table that Elaine touched Macßae’s arm. “Why did you start like that?” she asked. “Have you seen someone you know?” He shook his head. “I’m—not sure,” he answered. “I rather think I recognised that woman who passed a second ago. If I'm right, then she was a patient of mine once. I knew that she might be coming up this way sometime, but I hadn’t that she’d be here so soon. Probably I was mistaken, though.” It was some ten minutes later, and when he had gone to order the hotel ! car for Elaine and himself—meantime at least, Rollingward was staying at the Royal Stag—that someone touched

liis shoulder as he passed through the hall. Surprised, he turned, and the surprise increased when he recognised Lilian Manton. At first his brows wrinkled; then, having become, as it were, familiar with the woLder of the thing, he put a hand readily into the one which she held out. She was a good-looking girl, a year or two older than Elaine; dark-haired and dark-eyed, and with a habitual pallor not without its attractiveness. Her features lacked regularity, but about the rather too large mouth a smile always seemed to hover, and the deep brown eyes were warm and friendly. “You—Blair! ” she started answering the grip of his fingers. “So Aunt Margaret was right after all! Only a second or two ago she told me that she was sure she'd seen you here. I was going into the lounge to spy around for myself. It's too thrilling, really—meeting you like this, and after all those years. But—you're with friends, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. Then, answering her enthusiasm, went on: “It’s great, Lilian! Seeing you again. But why have you sprung this surprise? I thought you promised in your letter that you'd let me know before you came to Dochrine?” She nodded. “I meant to do that, Blair, but j*ou see we decided everything hurriedly. There simply wasn't time. I could have sent a wire, of course, but that would have made our arrival look too important altogether. And now, can you tell me everything about yourself —or must that wait?” “It must wait,” he said. “Not that

there’s such a lot to tell you, for I think my letter was pretty lengthy. About the people I’m with, though. There’s just this to say, Lilian. It’s very important that when you and your aunt meet them, you mustn’t! | make any reference to that bad luck ! | of mine.” ■ She watched him steadily. "Of course not,” she said. *‘l wouldn’t dream of that, and neither ! would Aunt Margaret.” He nodded. “I had to be careful,” he answered, a little awkwardly. "You might have thought, y’see, that they knew. Lilian —the girl is the daughter of Mr. Jus- ; tice Hart.” “What? That man? Blair! You i don’t mean to tell me he’s in Dochi rine?” | “Yes —near to it, anyway. But the jstory will keep. Come! I'll take i you across and introduce you to | Elaine Hart, and to the Hon. Maurice ; Rollmgward. He’s to be a fellowI guest of yours in the hotel for a bit, i so you might as well know him. ’ “I’ll come if you w ant me to,” Lilian

j conceded, “but I feel a bit shy. I’ve ; only arrived, and—Blair, I've an idea that I’m going to dislike Miss Hart.” He laughed. ; “Nonsense!” he said. “That's very | loyal of you, though, Lilian. You only spoke like that because you j shared my view about her father’s enmity to me. That's all done with, and, anyway, his daughter’s of quite a different type. You’re not to dislike her; you’re to like her.” Chatting inconsequently, he led Lilian to the lounge and introduced her to Elaine and to Rollingward. Invited to stay with them at their table, she shook her head. “Thanks—but I can’t,” she said. “My ' aunt’s around somewhere. I’ve been > searching for her. and I expect she* - been searching for me. We’re to be here foi a bit. though, and I’m sure to be meeting you again, Miss Hart.” 1

(To be continued daily)