The Runaways: A New and Original Story

Janet Todd read the account of the fatal accident to Warren Courtly in the paper, but she did not grieve much over his death, although she felt sorry it had taken place. There was nothing now to hinder her returning to her father, and it was the only thing she could do, as she had very little money.

She wrote to Eli begging his forgiveness, and asking if he would take her back. Needless to say, his reply was loving and fatherly, and he implored her to come home without delay.

Janet returned, and Eli – good, large-hearted man that he was – received her with open arms, and she was grateful for his kindness.

Some weeks after her return he said to her one night —

"Janet, I had made up my mind never to allude to the past, but I will ask you one question and have done with it."

She knew what the question was, and decided there could be no harm in answering it now, more especially as Irene knew the whole circumstances.

"I will answer any question you care to ask me," she said.

"Who induced you to run away and leave me?" he asked.

"Warren Courtly."

"I thought as much," was his reply.

CHAPTER XX

PERFECT HARMONY

It was over twelve months since Warren Courtly came to an untimely end, and the Squire and his son were in the morning-room, where he had kept vigil on the anniversary of Ulick's departure. There was no snow on this occasion, as they looked out of the window at the familiar scene; but the ground was held in the grip of a hard frost, and the white crystals had not yet vanished from the trees.

"Irene is coming for dinner to-night," said the Squire, as he looked at him.

"And who else is coming?"

"Only Dr. Harding and the Vicar and his wife," replied his father.

Ulick did not immediately reply, but stood at the window while the Squire sat down.

Bersak, who was lying on the hearthrug, went to him and licked his hand. He patted the dog's head, but, as he made no movement to go away, Bersak went and laid down at the Squire's feet.

During the months that had elapsed since Warren's death he had seen very little of Irene, had, in fact, avoided her as much as possible, and absented himself a good deal from Hazelwell, his excuse being that he liked to see his horses run, especially the Saint.

The "curiosity" had won some good handicaps, and, at the Squire's request, he had been sent down to Hazelwell at the end of his four-year-old career, much to Fred May's chagrin, as he wished to keep him in work, and said it was throwing money away to send him to the stud at that age. Ulick, however, wished to please his father, so the Saint was now an important member of the Hazelwell stud, and Eli Todd was as proud of him as the trainer had been.

The Squire knew it was not altogether racing that caused his son to vanish from home for weeks at a time. He appreciated the delicacy of feeling which actuated him and took him away from Irene's presence in the early months of her widowhood. He saw in his conduct a sure sign that he was in love with her, and he gleaned from Irene's look of disappointment, when she saw Ulick was absent, that she returned his affection.

It had always been a thorn in the Squire's side that he had induced Irene to marry Warren Courtly, who was unsuited to her, and had thus placed an insurmountable barrier in Ulick's way.

By an accident that obstacle had been removed, and he did not intend his cherished idea should again come to nothing.

The Squire did not mourn for Warren Courtly. He was no hypocrite, and, although sorry for his early death, he argued that it was all for the best, more especially when he came to examine into his affairs, and afterwards when he had made Janet tell him who had run away with her. This she did on giving his word he would keep her secret.

Warren, who had left the Squire joint executor with Irene, had involved the Anselm estate heavily, and it would take some years to wipe off the debt that had accumulated. Irene had a considerable income, but not more than half she had a right to have expected. There was a mortgage on the Manor itself, but the Squire quickly took that up on his own account.

As Ulick looked out of the window, his thoughts were busy with memories of the past, and in them Irene was a conspicuous figure. He had waited more than twelve months, and held his peace, although he was impatient to pour out his love to her now she was free. He was thinking whether he would have an opportunity of doing so to-night, and, if it occurred, whether he would take it. What would her answer be? He did not wish to be over-confident, but he looked forward to a favourable reply, and his heart beat fast in expectation.

He was not aware Irene knew who ran away with Janet, and he was pleased to think she had no knowledge of Warren's conduct.

His father watched him with a smile on his face, and thought —

"He means to ask her to-night. He is making up his mind, and I will see he has the chance."

"Is there anything particularly striking to look at out there?" asked the Squire. "If so, I will join you."

Ulick laughed as he replied, "I was taking very little notice of the view. I was thinking over old times."

"Pleasant thoughts?"

"Yes, most of them."

"We were a couple of fools to remain separated for such a long time," said the Squire.

"We appreciate being together again the more now," replied Ulick.

"Eli is precious glad to have that girl of his back again," said the Squire. "I hope the lesson she has had will teach her to behave better in the future."

"There is no fear about that," replied Ulick. "It has been severe."

"Not nearly so severe as she deserved," was the reply.

It was a merry dinner party, and they were all in high spirits. Later on in the evening the Squire and the Vicar's wife challenged the Vicar and the Doctor to a quiet rubber, which was eagerly accepted.

"You two young people can look after yourselves," said the Squire to Irene and his son, and she flushed slightly at his words.

Whist was an interesting game to the players, but Ulick and Irene evidently found it slow as spectators, and quietly left the room.

A bright fire was blazing in the drawing-room, and Irene sat down at the piano and idly ran her hands over the keys. The lamps shed a soft, yellow light over the room, and the effect was soothing and tranquil.

Presently Irene sang a simple song, and, when it was ended, went on with another. She was fond of music; so was Ulick, and he listened to her sweet, low notes, and watched her face as she sang, half unconscious of his presence.

When she stopped and looked up she found him standing near her. Their eyes met, and, taking her hand, he said —

"Irene, I have something to say to you."

She knew what he meant, and knew what her answer must be.

He pleaded his cause well, and she listened, smiling encouragement when he faltered.

He asked her to be his wife, and she consented without any false hesitation.

They were very happy, and Ulick felt that somehow the world was a very good place to live in, and that the ways of life were not quite so crooked as some people were desirous of making out.

He could not realise that Irene had ever been Warren Courtly's wife. He seemed to have possessed her ever since she came to Hazelwell on the death of her father. She was his Irene, always had been, and always would be for ever more.