"CHRISTABEL"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 4 July 1939, Page 10

"CHRISTABEL"

Published by Special Arrangement.

Copyright.

By

PEARL BELLAIRS.

(Author of "Velvet and Steel,” “The Prisoner’s Sister,” etc.)

CHAPTER XITT. (Continued). ‘Oh. so you’re awaice now. Keeling better?” “Yes,” said Christabel. The word was like a ton weight to be lifted and set down. Firm fingers grasped her wrist, feeling her pulse. “Where am I?” said Christabel. “Shh!” “How did I get here?” “You had an accident. You’ll remember later. You mustn’t bother, about that now. You must keep very quiet.” Christabel passed from stupor to vague waking wonder, then stupor again. At the end of four days a little more light was allowed in the room. She knew the faces of the doctor and the nurses. She was told that she had been knocked down by a motor car and had suffered from concussion. “It was Mr Cavanagh’s car. Mr Cavanagh was driving in it,” she was told. But she did not know who Mr Cavanagh was. She didn't at once ask many questions; she wasn’t allowed to talk; and it was only gradually that the sister realised that Christabel didn’t even remember her own name. “It often happens,” said the doctor in charge. “Don’t you remember,” they said to. her. “You were at the children's camp. Your name is Christabel Collet,” “Oh, yes?” said Christabel. Her mother came and was allowed to see her. Christabel, stared at her with enormous, dark ringed eyes, and asked, with a sort of weak confusion, who she was? Told that Mrs Haye was her mother, she said; “Of course.” But there really wasn’t any “of course" about it. Christabel had not known. sj: * “Dr Hewitson?” Christabel echoed, when they told her that he was coming to see her. “Hewitson!” Her whole being seemed to respond with echo of old emotion; but still she could connect no face of personality with the name. “Dr Hewitson is a mental specialist. Don’t worry your head trying to remember. It will all come back!” said the nurse. She fell into a doze, and then opened her eyes at a slight sound —and there he was, smiling down at her. She had not heard him come with the sister. “Hello!” he said. “Hello!” echoed Christabel, faintly, smiling. She knew his face. She knew he was the Hewitson they had spoken of. The sight of his face, the live gaze of his blue eyes, was like a shock to her whole system, wakening her- to now life . . He held out his hand and she raised hers to take it. But she saw the distress which followed the startled interest in her eyes — “You don’t know me?” “I know you!” She tried to say more but shook her head, staring at him with eyes from which the old look of subtle secrecy had utterly faded, leaving them two dark pools of liquid innocence.

He still held her hands and she showed no desire to draw hers away. “My name is Hewitson.” “Yes, I know.” “Oh, so you do know that!" Their hands parted. He sat down in the chair at the bedside, his brows knitted, a warmth in his eyes which increased her confidence. “I don’t remember much," she said. "You mustn't worry about that. That will go.” “I know you, but " she broke off helplessly. "We were both working at a clinic in Bering Street before you came down down to Kent," he. explained.

“I don’t remember that. I don't remember anything. My mother came to see me, and I remembered her after a while. I remember other things in my childhood, and I remember going to school. But I don't know anything later than that. Except that the doctor told me. that somebody told him where I was working, that I was married." “Married?" It was Hewitson turn to look taken aback.

"Yes. and my husband died. I’m a widow. But I don’t remember any ol it.” She began to look distressed, while all the time her gaze was fixed on his face with a kind of timid curiosity. "I’m afraid I can't help you." Hewitson said. “You see I only knew you for a month or two and you never told me anything about yourself. Bui you really mustn't think about all that.. It will come back'."

"But there’s something I want to remember!" she said, and a thrill of fear ran through her. an eluding memory which fled like a shadow and left her blank

She felt a vague disappointment, because she had assumed that he was someone she knew really well. Vol the atmosphere was electric; his smiling eyes seemed to be holding hers witli intention, and in her weak slate shefell helplessly possessed l>;y his confident vitality.

‘AH sorts of tilings might be happening; things I ought to know about " she murmured vaguely. And she looked searchinglyl at Hewitson himself, as though she thought there might be things about him that she had forgotten. He guessed her difficulty and smiled equivocally, as though he did not intend to enlighten her on that point immediately. "We shall have to re-educate you!" It pleased him to see the blush of

colour in her pale face, and her eyes, half startled, half shy, fall before his. His conscience stricken doubt as to whether he was behaving in a manner best suited to an invalid made him pull himself up. "No, but—l mean, shall 1 always be like this?” "Not at all. Some part of the associational system in your mind has been put out of action by the blow on the head. It might have been destroyed. but that isn't a likely supposition. In a few weeks, if you take care of yourself, you'll be as well as ever.” He spoke seriously, while her eyes grew blacker and blacker, wondering, fixed on his. He added with a smile, to take her mind off the subject: “The tables are turned on you, aren't they?” "Why?” "You used to be something of a mystery to me—now you're a mystery to yourself!” He left her knowing that he had unintentionally created an illusion in hetmind. She believed, one could see it. that they had been on better terms than was actually the case. The only result of this ernbarrasing fact was to make him extraordinarily light-hearted. The day after Hewitson’s visit. Arthur Cavanagh, who had been getting daily reports of Christabel’s progress through his secretary, paid her a visit in person. He arrived on Christabel's balcony accompanied by the matron, for the children’s ward of the hospital had been built with his donation, and his visit caused a stir in the place. The matron, carrying the great bunch of crimson roses he had brought for the patient, was all deferential smiles. Christabel could only stare and smile politely, and lie embracing the bunch of roses which the matron put into her arms. His visit, and the roses, were things she must accept as a matter of course, and hope that they would explain themselves later. "This is very gratifying,” said Cavanagh. “I hope you are feeling much better.. I can assure you you were a very frightening sight indeed when I brought you here —wasn’t she, matron? And now you look no more than a recovering invalid!” "I am better, thank you,” said Christabel. "It was very kind of you to come.” She understood who he was, and felt more at ease. “Not kind at all!” said Cavanagh, looking round for a chair, which the matron put beside him. “I was impressed by your heroism! I shall never forget how we saw you throw yourself across the road to save that little girl. It was most magnificent!" "It's very kind of you to say so; but whether I deserve it or not. I can’t very well say, because I remember nothing about it.’ "Your memory is still affected?” asked Cavanagh, looking at her gravely. "I don’t remember very much," was all Christabel would say. CHAPTER XIV. When Mrs Haye arrived on the following Monday the superintendent asked her if she would take Christabel home to rest for a week, or two before she went back to work, as the hospital beds were urgently needed. Mrs Haye hardly knew what to say. "I don’t think it would be possible for me to do that; there’s no room in the house for her,” she said, and added hurriedly. "I think it would be more convenient for me to fake her away somewhere to stay in an hotel.” "Very well,” said the doctor. "We’ll keep her here until Friday.” Feeling completely cornered, Mrs Haye went up to see Christabel. She would have to ask her husband for money with which to take Christabel to an hotel or a boarding house somewhere. and she did not know what he would say. And when she arrived in the ward, Christabel, who was sitting in a basket chair covered with a rug. reading a book, received her with pathetic enthusiasm, and demanded to be told things about herself. "From the beginning!" said Christabel.

"Well you were at school—you were the only one we had; you were at a convent. And then your father died, and I married again, and we went to live in St John’s Wood. You remember your step-father, perhaps?” Christabel, concentrating with almost painful attention, shook her head slightly, and pressed her fingers against the lids of her eyes . . "And then, you went in for nursing for a little while: and after that you married Keith. You remember Keith, don't you?" Mrs Tlaye paused. She paused, as it were, on the brink of the awful catastrophe. Surely Christabel would remember now, and it wouldn't be necessary for her to say any more— —? But Christabel let her hands drop; showing a face that was rather pale, with mental effort . . "Keith- Keith who? I can't remember. I’m afraid. There's just a blank!" "Keith Milsorn. You were married in Kensington Church. You had a flat in Notting Hill Gate.” Christabel shook her head. "Go on." Mrs Haye played nervously with the tail of her .expensive fox fur. Was she to tell Christabel about, all that? About the trial, the disgrace, the prison ? Impossible! To Mrs Haye's frantic mind it seemed that Christabel having forgotten the awful affair was another step towards having everyone else forget it. "Well, then,” said Mrs Haye. “Keith died. He died three years ago. of—of bronchial, pneumonia." (To be Continued.)