The evening world. Newspaper, March 1, 1920, Page 17

| it a hidden past ? She gave her heart to him the day they met. | Yet a cloud of mystery hung over his life. Was it a dual personality ? Thrills and excitement, suspense and surprise blend in each. fascinating instalment. May Christie has woven with rare skill this | charming story of entangled hearts. Was Miss (Copyright, 4 JIM DALTON, a handsome young artist who falls in love with a pretty and attractive girl, SHIRLEY loved by MARSH, 1920, by May Christie.) WHO'S WHO IN THE STORY. | Shirley is also | DAVID BURKE, a country gentleman, nearing forty. ¥ LU is @ mystery. CHAPTER I. afternoon, when the shafts of golden sunlight filigreed through nodding beech trees to make dancing patterns on a Surrey backwater, Miss Shirley Marsh—young, very much alive, bewildéringly pretty and attractive—leant forward in her small canoe and with paddle poised reflectively in mid-air thus addressed her N a sleepy summe vis-a-vis:— “Love mental! eternal Eve. “Some day you'll meet your Waterloo, Miss Shirley—meantime, touch And David Burke, prosaic, country gentleman, who had loved wood!” this will-o’-the-wisp young woman throngh many a_ tantalizing day smiled ttl! the fine little creases round his eyes belied the queer pain In his heart How young she was! ‘And how out of reach! “To be really appreciated one should never fall | Miss Shir- How pretty! love ley amiled a little emile so bright and | hat even the glancing sun- rey backwater seemed radiant Nght on dimmed by ¢ “I think some people are just made for love,” said simple David Burke, hfe eyes on Shirley and his whole soul ‘ shiming throurh them. “I think— She gave a little trilling laugh— pd when she laughed, the mus| ft meemed to her pri lover a be- witching medley of binds’ song and ranning water’ and soft woodland sounds. “You ought to have lived a ‘hun- @red years ago, you dear, romantic goose! ‘Just made for love,’ indeed! ‘Just made to be trodden yo mean! No, thank you—not fur me!” She screwed her piquant little face into a Minerva-like solemnity as she eominued;— “Could you picture me in the do- mestic role of doormat ntrast. on! “But—Shirtey—you don’t under- otend—" “Indeed I do! Too well!" A pert gteam shone in Miss Shirley'seye. She fMioked the water smartly with her paddle, “Believe me, I'm not ‘made fer love.’ I've other things in vie ww Leaning forward from his precar- fous position in the stern of the canoe, David Burke touched a gos- gemer fold of the dainty’ summer frock the young gin! wore—and there was reverence, as well as adulation, im the touch. “This pretty frock stamm: “delicate, tracting—in aren't made of ‘sterner stuff,’ I'm glad and yot—" he dainty, dis. ull you say, you spite of of it—I-—~” “Mr. Burk There was an ic in Shirley's fresh young vc th elevated brows, her gaze went ngly But to David (he world to make you happy. Some- How I dislike the word! I'd never be so crazy as to fall in love!” Her lips curled scornfully, and her rounded little chin was tilted up Gefiantly—but in her pretty eyes as they rested on the eligible admirer who was gazing at her so intently, lurked the provocative gleam of the | the crinkly Bttle |} eyes which time and geniality had together wrought. I'd give you everything you | | of | middle-aged y she styled ht tenty had come, a pent-uy J that no longe would be dammed “Crazy? Perhaps I am! Crazy Por love of w—crazy with wanting you! Shirley, my dear, don't draw away.” He cau her two hands ead the canoe paddic in his own atrong clasp~a grip that would not be denied, ‘Shirley’ “Don't! You hurt me—and—you frighten me” Miss Shirley, despite her previous valiant protestations, re= verted instantly to the timid, help-| lesa type she so at lospine But David Burke 1 “My « Jear—I know I'm |by not nearly go¢ ugh for such al thru girl as you ILLE, a rather world weary actress, about whose marriage there | And everything else that’s senti- “It’s a glorious world,” said Shirley, softly, with apparent irrelevance. She stared across the little creek Into the melting greenness of the summer woods, her pretty head averted so that she might not see the pain in David's eyes. She hated so to hurt him! “It's a glorious world—but T haven't lived my day yet—and I want so much to live it!” “Ambition? A career? Society? Al! dead sea fi aid David pleadingly. “Don’t fling love away for empty things.” “1 don’t want to fling it away—I do appreciate it—but I'm not’ quite ready to recelve it yet.” Stfirley’s white brows were knitted together in perplexity. “Later on, perhaps—" “I won't say any more, my dear— but remember, I shan't change,” sald David Burke in his normal, kindly ize what happened—calamity oc- curred, in the shape of a big touring car driven at @ reckless pace around the bend—a pace so swift thet she had no time to save herself, to spring aside, She screamed, The big car swerved to avold her, running crazily for a second with two wheels on the bank. Then—— Crasht It overturned, hurling its solitary driver with terrific force for thirty feet along the road. Shirley screamed again, her slender figure emerging from a cloud of dust. Only a foot away from her panted the great car on its side, like some de- feated giant, groaning. . In a twinkling David Burke sprang forward and switched off the engine. ‘Then he ran swiftly down the road towards the prostrate figure of the driver, tying there so quietly. tones, pulling himself together. “And Now, suppose we return to the White \ Cottage for the tea and strawberries i i i] | I could work my fingers to the bone| for you!” | Her gaze was on his face, studying! lines around the! want!” he was repeating—dully, dog- gediy—as though it were some lesson learned by heart. She leaned a little forward, facing fim “You don't quite understand me,” she said slowly, “it's like this”"——she tapped the shiny canoe with a tenta- tive hand. “I'm a frisky venture- some Httle boat that's longing for more exciting waters—a giddy little craft that'’a tired of Surrey creeks and stagnant places, that wants to explore new streams”—— “And maybe shoot the rapids?” cut in David rather grimly. But Shirley nodded gayly as she eaid: Why, yes, that would be exciting! 1 wouldn't necessarily be swamped, you know—and if I did run on the rocks, it would only be a temporary. matter tM some one pulled me off again!” “The ttle craft might be dam- aged in the process? suggested Divid soberly, “Fortunes of war,” emiled Shirley, “and, anyhow, the Ittle craft would have had its fling!” | LIFE’S VICTORY, ANTD'S face was suddenly wninated with a new idea, “And after your small boat weathered all the storms and whirlpools that you seem to think spell life, what then, my dear?” Miss Shirley giggled—charmingly, coording to her wont. “Why, then, if there was a nice, port, quite handy, the little ift mightn't be feeling quite so perky and so skittish and would be le to sail right int” You darling!" David bounded ‘orward with a velocity that almost ile D ipset the frail canoe, and caught Miss Shirley in hts arms, “Is that 4 promise, dearest?” “It isn't anything of the sort,” said Shirley, the coquettish, “and—look— you're crushing all my gown.” Overhead, in @ world of feathery greenery, a thrush was singing her little heart out in a flood of golden melody, But the beauty of !t seemed to David Burke like emmuisite pain. “Oh, is—is he killed?” gasped Shir- ley, white to the lips; and with such # trembling at the knees that her doubt about it that he’s got concus- sion—”" “Then hurry burry!” Pink spots of excitement burned tn Shirley's cheeks. “Grandmamma will give you brandy to bring back with you—and she'll ‘phone the nearest doctor to come at once to the White Cottage—of course we'll carry this poor boy there—” And David Burke went running down the road, turned sharply to the right ami disappeared through the short out in the woods, leaving the young girl and her patient to a silence and @ solitude complete. Suppose that he shoud die? Shirley bent over the calm, pale face. with its bandaged forehead, ly- ing there so helpless on her lap. How young he was—not more than wiry, eyes, artis' lark, ¢ transitory. fortnight MAS! CHR sey BRL N SUN OVEL OF tse Yeas a GOLDEN MOMENTS. ¥ a certain golden afternoon a later a young man anda girl wei well-knit frame, purly, close Life and death had come) Muss Shirley very close to her that day—but life had won! re through *he Surrey woods, was tall and rather slender, with a a noyish face lit by @ pair of fine dark nd the possess of a sensitive, mobile mouth that indicates the true ‘The sun went glinting through the tmoery of the b their uncovered hed h trees ds—on the man's cropped hair, and on the girl's wavy, red-sold locks blush adorably, foolish little girl!" “Is--is the pose correct?” inquired the embarrawed sitter, hoping he! didn’t see the blush “Quite perfoct—just hold on as you are!’ ‘The young man hastily drew forth his canvases and paints, And an enchanted silence fell be- tween them—a happy, comprehending sort of eilence that spoke more vivid- ly than words. For Shirley and her erstwhile pa tient were approaching that dear, de- lightful crisis known a@ ‘falling in love"—had, indeed, been steadily working up to It for the last two weeks. With all the charming egotism of the young when youth and ‘oul ro- strolling ‘The man lean and down on “You! And—what was that small red glow down by the little wicket gate? Tt was Jim's clgur—and he waa there! She got up hurriedly, before ter resohition should change, slipped om some clouhes and a small white cloniy and noiselessly descended A world of acented blossom—silene@ —and full moon! Could any setting more ex< quisite? ’ There could be no doubt that he loved her! His eyes, the tones of hit, voice, his every action told her sol © In the shadow of a big elm treo, and close to an okl, herbaceous bor« der, she hesitated for a moment. She didn't want to be too bold. How silent the countryside was tye two-and-twenty! And—yes, decid-| They stopped in a green little glade, |™ance are beckoning, Miss Shirley | ing, bathed in this clear white splen« edly—how good-looking! beside a woodland pool fringed by |4d quite formotten David Burke, her | dor! A Wtle trickle of blood, escaping} soft ferns, “nearly-middie-aged admirer,” or, to ” Jim was beside bets from the bandage, was on his hair—| “Mias Shirley, here's your back-|>@ more correct, had relegated him my dear—is that you and Shirley wiped it off with her own ground—this is an ideal spot for a] to ® dusty corner of her mind She laughed a tremulousty. How tame and dull that prosate} “ity an enchanted evening, isn't “hen? wooing seemed beside the ardor of} jt? 1 couldn't sleop"-—— the handsome, eager boy! He caught her by the arm She gazed down into the fern-| “Come down this path—over te fringed pool, and saw the image of her own fresh face. How wonderful it was to be young and pretty and beloved! “Please look directly at me—I want to see your eyes!” ‘The artiat’s words were intended to be busifiessiike, but to Shirley they sounded like a caress, “They're the bhiest things I've ever seen, Miss Shirley—biuer than the hyacinths ‘The enchanted silence of the woods was broken, and the young girl gave hor soft, throaty little laugh. “That isn't true—O flatterer! | Jim Dalton’ halted momentarily in hia work, brush poised in mid air, lips smiling happily “Upon the contrary! When I woke up by the roadside that ever- blessed afternoon two wecks ago, with my head in your lap and your eyes looking down into mine, IT thought @ plece of the sky had tun- dled down by mistake!” “Ana I thought you were dying!” supplemented Shirley, a very tender, reminiscent light on her pretty face. “Dying? With all the inducements in the world to live!” Jim Dalton laughed his boyish laugh. “No—not a chance of it!" From out the undergrowth appeared a tiny, furry head, wafching those on “SHIRLEY, | LOVE YOU!" HE DREW A LONG, DEEP BREATH. “THAT ISN'T ORIGINAL, BUT IT’S TRUE!” curious humans with bright t “MY DEAR,” SHE WHISPERED BACK, HIDING HER FACE AGAINST HIS SHOULDER. “OH, JIM” |tunid eyes. : | your dear old grandmother promised) limbs refused to carry her. Every-) fresh handkerchief. She noticed that| picture!” Jim Dalton set his easel] “1 Mould think if any man were to supply us with? I'rh ready.” thing seemed whirling in confusion. his alr was dark and short and very | down. He pointed to a mossy carpet tying,” went on the young artist fa~ With swift, sure strokes Miss) But David Burke was kneeling in|curly—it must have been immensely | underneath a slender, spraying birch | MOUsly, “and you looked at him with Shirley paddled the canoe along the} the roadway, passing a carcful hand| curly as a little boy, she thought—|tree and clone to the water's edge.| the Kind of eile you gave me then, mream until they reached the boat-| over that silent Sgure—and made no| and suddenly she felt tremendously | “Just curl up over there~hat in your] He'd want to live! It—it was wonder- house. There she moored her little} answer. protective, as though the patient were| hand—-so! Ruffle up your hair af fl, Miss Shirley!’ craft. Ashamed of her mon faint. | indeed a little boy and she his mother! le bit, My! You eautitult| He suddenty forsook fis easel, and As she walked beside him in the] % Shirley forced he f to join} He had a square, strong face -| Do you know © a regular wood-|C#™e to fling his long length at her flickering shadow of the beech-trees making a desperate effort to pull! Spite its boyishness—with a doter-| land nyt t \f t her floppy river hat stung by a rib- ie tomather, mined chin and well-cut lips s Shirley, not snscions’ of} “It’s much too glorious a day for bon to her arm, and her piquant little 76—tis ent dead? gtatocmred:| «Go reeardad hie long, clean he pleasing plet 16 made said he face one glow of animation, prosaic|+mon she drew sharply back lof llamo, hin wraticienl Hirata and | up at him blue eyes very] ‘The little rabbit ecampered off mto David Burke decided, as he had done| spook! His head's bloeding! Oh,| broad, nia ith- oo b cheeks with a wild|tho undergrowth with flying feet. @ hundred times before—that for] ys yadiy hurt! Poor box—-poor boy!"|proval. Poor oy! He must—he| them, and her red-| How unonginal they were, theve hu- beauty, freshness, charm of manner ie atooped down suddenly and|should—get better! Gh 1 her] old locks and sort gown a vivid| mans! In the little green world and complete bewitchingness no other} 4 fs vy loontrast to the glorious greenness of] WieTe be lived ho had seen euch me : ripped @ soft founce from her under-| grandmamma between them ~— they | things @ hundred tnes—especially In Lal Beonnce Sy eoa a hun-) skirt would nurse him back to health. He ations : Ne oaiat | the sprin They had reached a little winding lane, flanked by high mossy banks on either side io car would ever attempt to come this way—the road's too nar- row,” Burke observed, “I heard no sound.” Down the centre of the little lane walked Shirley ‘Then—efore she had time to real- ™My dear—my dear,” he stam- mered, “I shall always be your friend—you know it. But isn't there —couldn% there be—some hope be- hind the friendship? I—iove you he canoe was swinging smoothly | through the stream, the paddle plied shirley's capable, small hands. The ‘s song and the soft swish of fut Vd do everything in| the water as It gurgled on the polished wood blended together in a anew Kewish that I were poor, go that harmony, “MR. BURKE, ARE YOU CRAZY?" | IN SHIRLEY'S VOICE. j “l AN {6 OWN BTRONG GRASP, a course in first aid—it ought to be done at once!" She knelt down im the roadway, working with quick, deft fingers that no longer trembled. “Mr. Burke, won't you run for help at once, while I stay with him? “You aren't afraid to be loft alone? There's a chance that he might be delirious—alarm you in some way—no THERE WAS AN ICY NOTE AM CRAZY WITH LOVE OF YOU-—CRAZY WITH WANTING tle} YOU!" HE CAUGHT HER TWO HANDS AND THE CANOE PADDLE 4 She crooked her arm into a hollow, so that his head might rest more comfortably With her free left hand she felt ‘his pulse. ‘Then her own beart leaped in} aon, sudden apprehension, For under her | ty fingers she could feel no movement! | eyos Was he dying—dead? | Jiot tears sprang to her eyes and| stooping swiftly kissed the curly dark hair up above the band- ages as though she would transmit life to him from her own warm lips, “Hello!” sald a feeble, shaky voice. The dark lashes iifted and a pair of} brown eyes gazed into S “Hello!” Yes like!” “it “AS she strange ley's wet blue orbs, As though hypnotized between! amazement and relief—and perhaps! with a touch of something new and odd and quite unfathomable stirring in that hitherto invulnerable organ known as Shirley's heart—the young girl met the brown-eyed gaze. Then, remembering the kiss that she had given him a het flush mounted to her forehead. “Are—are you feeling better?” she whispered nervously, He moved a little, groaning as he moved. And then the dark-fringed eyelids fell again and he apparently relapsed once more into unconscious- nese. | When David Burke and old Joe and the shutter came at last she was still seated in the same cramped position with the young man’s head supported up-tilted at a chanming angie THE ENCOUNTER. but you can talk to ine if you ULL, moon was up that night, | And Shirley could not sleep. won't bring on ydur head-|} From under her pillow she An anxious look crept into/drew forth her wrist watoh, glanc- ae depths of Miss Shirley's! ing at its luminous figures. Her patient's welfare was of} Why, it was only 11 o'clock! importance to her Sweet acents of the garden drifted though you could make my/| through her open window, as though Jim Daiton's smile held | beckoning her to come out into the <r, perfumed air. those shadows—and smell the rosea And gee the big white moon F Like two clfldren oh some truanta® adventure, they stole off into a Utde world of perfumed shade, heart beating rapidly. In a nearby Wood a nightiogale by gan to sing. Her throbbing notes were full of passion and of esctacy, All about was the perfume of the roses, rising to the senses like @ sweet narcotic young man flung an slim cloaked figurd, r to himself. “Shire I never thought the world could hold such beauty——and such happiness til [ met vou!" The moonlight flickered for a mo-« ment on her face, giving it a weird, unearthly sort of beauty, as she whis= pered: “Jim! “You look just like a fairy princess only @ thousand times more beau- tiful!” “You're laughing at me!" Again hat tremulous note in Shirley's voice. “Hush! listen to the nights ingale!* Do you know just what it's my- ing?" Jim's tones were breathless, Nk @ runner neari the goai, ‘ ‘onderful thing “The things 1 want to say to. vou, sweetheart, and that 1 haven't the words for!” = She turned and looked at him, her prettiness shining pearl-like in’ the moonlight. n want to hear them—Jim!” © Caught her close in his two armmy then, tilting up hor little face, “Shirley !"* He drew « That isn't original dear!” , she whispered back again, hiding her face against his shoulder. “Oh, Jim——" “Shirley, TT simply worship yout T didn’t know what life meant until that day I nearly lost it—and met a kind of paradise since then! Tell me you do care just @ little bit! Oly Shirley: His voice broke pleadingly. She did not answer, hiding her face still closer up against his shoulde>. How big he was-—how altogether wonderful! ‘That tobacco smell about his coat, too. a y--learest-—-you aren't to break my heart? Say th f to get to Hike me—— afincse aX © laughed the throat he Joved to hear, aly ene eae “You foolish boy—I—T've loved from the moment that 1 mot pert He gave one long sigh of ‘sheer rellef then, and held her tighter in his arms. His eyes were just @ trifle moist. “II swear that I'll be good to my dear! I—4 can hardly believe in my own tremendous luck! A int like you~that any man would love— that could marry anybody——tt—it's wonderful The moon shown down beautifully wpon them--and it almost seemed as though an amused twinkle lurked somewhere on her kind oki face. Omly—the happy lovers didn't no« tice it—as ls their way! “Shirley, ll go up to town to-~ morrow and get the engagément ring! We'll do everything property, as it should be done ‘Yes, Jim!" ‘The young girl's eyes were shining. He stooped and kissed her on the Nip that ng, first kiss with which no other can compare. . The following afternoon Jim set off to town upon his precious mis- sion. Miss Shirley roved the country roads in dreamy solitude. The miraculous had occurred at last—she was in love! On her return she was conscious of a stranger sitting on a rustic bench upon the lawn—a tall, good looking young woman, with an air of fashion, very smartly dressed. As roached the stranger rose and rustled elegantly acroms the grass. strong—how Rice wid said you were out, and so I wuited here for you." ‘The smart young woman took in every detail of Shirley's fresh appearance, uking the while in @ low, beauti= fully modulated voice. “She must be an actress—and @he's on her arm, The arm ached dread- very. Randeorie. ot ey b> tad tut aloud she merely said:— fully, but Shirley didn't care ‘Ie there anything oan ieee For—since that one long glance into | you?” thoee strange brown eyes—something | “T understan¢ said the older ’ f 5 steal | & | woman, eyeing ey keenly, “that new and wonderful and very discon-! 4 Mr. Jim Da no is staylog at your certing had crept into Mins Shirley's | . scheme of things, driving away all) $, but t p to town to- physical discomforts and opening up + Rory ae a world of vivid possibilities. lips. ‘Then she added That night a young moon glinted in Es ¥ a dark blue sky, and Shirley, wander “ian ¢ w him? | roased the stranger’ ling in the gardens of White Cot t spoke, the Sean tage, stared dreamily up at ita soft ARE—ARE YOU FEELING BETTER?” SHE WHISPERED NERV: | wore like 4 (iunderbolt radiance. OUSLY. “‘T ovght to know him—he's my ime ' . }band, shd4 said grimly. How beautiful a thing was life! All HE MOVED A LITTLE, GROANING AS HE MOVED.......AND) (paJoreul'\igg To- Morrow's Fascina the mere exquisite beowuse dt was eo RELAPSED ONCE MOKE INTO UNCONSCIOUSNESS, | Instalment.) j SS ESA ane In tO eee