Under The Shadow

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1075, 12 September 1930, Page 5

Under The Shadow

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Elizabeth York Miller.

Author of “ Conscience,” “ Carry On,” “ The Brass Box,” etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXVII (Continued) However, there was one thing Cousin Mary had not known. During their extravagant winter, Enid had never been easy spending so much money which did not seem honestly to be her own. Whatever developed she was better off without it. Several things had happened. Sir Ridgeworth Bevans succumbed to an acute symptom of his malady and died suddenly. Then Bobby Curtis and Adela were married. Poor Adela was a sadlychanged woman. Whatever she had had to do with her sister’s crime, she had very likely been moved by a good impulse. She had fought down her infatuation for David, and there was no doubt but that she was genuinely attached to the man who had won her hand. Enid went to their wedding and gave them an extravagant present. The present was slightly superfluous, since Bobby Curtis was one of those who would benefit hugely by the strange thing she had accomplished by stealth. Their wedding had taken place at St. Clement Danes, and after the ceremony, Enid found herself wandering in the direction of Fleet Street. For the occasion she had put off her mourning and was dressed in a little grey ninon frock with a touch of mauve. She wore a shady black bat, softly wreathed with an ostrich plume, and the modest string of pearls which had been her father’s gift when she was presented at Court. She looked rather out of place in the Street of Ink and many heads were turned as she passed, but presently she slipped down a passage and found herself in the quiet precincts of the Temple. It was a warm day and the cool quiet of the old courts and buildings was restful. Enid had never been here before, although she knew the address to which she was going. Yes, she must go; the time had come. After being directed several times she found herself climbing a flight of ! worn stairs in a building that might . be described as the “ancient of days.” He lived here—David! At least his name was on the door. But perhaps he was away. A middle-aged manservant answered her knock and she knew from the manner in which she was received

that her call was regarded as scandalous. “How nice!” she thought, a little bird singing in her heart because it was so obvious that David did not make a habit of having feminiDe visitors. - “I’m sure I couldn’t say, miss, when Mr. Lennox will be in,” said the outraged Charles, blocking the way as best he could. Beyond, in the untidy sitting-room, [ Enid caught sight of a tea-table laid for one. “But you are expecting him for : tea, surely,” she protested. “May 1 come iu and wait?” “That’s as you please, miss,” the j old man replied grudingly. “My name is Lady Hurst,” Enid informed him, with dignity. Even then his manner did not change. If her name conveyed, any-1 thing to him, he did not show it. j But he allowed her to enter. An hour passed. She sat quietly, j growing pale and a little frightened | - —for the drip of Time can wear away the dnost rugged courage. And then David came in. There had been no warning. Her senses had become a little numbed with waiting, and she seemed to be listening with the spirit rather than with the flesh. She saw the door open; saw him j enter and stop abruptly; noted how | tall and gaunt he looked; his eyes burning brightly, as though his whole being was ravaged by an Inward fever. “It’s all right, Charles,” he called , out. “I’ll ring when we want tea.” From the confused muttering in the : backround she knew that the distrust- | ful servant had appeared and was attempting to explain. Then the door leading to some inner room closed : and she was alone with David. “My dear!” he exclaimed, breathlessly. “David, why have you kept away from me?” I—l’ve waited so long.” She looked as thoroughly woe-be-gone as a lost child. “I kept away because I didn’t think you wanted me,” he said. “First, there was your marriage to Hurst.” “Ah, David, let me tell you . . .” Sh' rushed through the cruel explanation a break-neck speed. “What could I do, David? As he said, I was ’bought aud paid for,’ I had to play the game. My father would have played it that way. In fact he did. , . . Yet my heart was broken.” “But afterwards?” David asked, huskily. “Afterward? Heaven only knows how I’ve managed to exist. It was the best thing to do—to go away—and Cousin Mary had to be amused.” He fell on his knees beside her and clasped his arms about her waist. Hands and lips were trembling. “Enid, I want you so! I can’t tell

you what these months have meant to me. I thought you married him for his money. I couldn’t imagine that you'd be willing to give it up.” Enid beut down, a tender smile curving her lips. “But I have given it up, David. Listen, dear, I found on going into matters that Lionel hadn’t told me the whole truth. Old Ways and the comparatively small income I may keep if I remarry are honestly due me from the wreck of my poor father’s estate. Lionel had lied to that extent. He is dead, and I pray very hard not to hate him ” She buried her face in her hands and continued quietly. “I’ve arranged—it wasn’t easy to do —that Lionel’s money is to go just where he meant it to, in case I remarried, or when I died. I shall never spend another penny of it.” A boyish laugh broke from the throat of the man who had never expected to laugh in that way again. “Enid, we're talking about money!” And then she laughed, too. “In the beginning we knew it never had a thing to do with us. Oh, David!” . She found herself in his arms, her . smart hat swept to the floor, her ! dainty frock crushed by the strength of his embrace. “And if I'd never done this, David? ; If I'd never come to you?” “Do you really think I would have waited for ever?” A long look into his eyes convinced i her. “No, I don’t." she said. “What's Ilia use of pretending?” THE END.