Australia Revenged Part 5

"Come, come," said Whyte, anxious to make peace. "Let's get to bed; perhaps she will have forgotten all about it in the morning." And he led his wife away.

Reg did not go to bed, but walked restlessly to and from the garden to cool his heated brain and collect his thoughts. At last he entered his room, and casually picked up a copy of _Truth_ to while away the time until he felt inclined for sleep. His eye happened to light on a paragraph drawing attention to the ruin of the prospects of a young actress by a gentleman "well-known in Society." No names were mentioned, but fuller details were promised. Had names been mentioned an amount of sorrow, with its appalling consequences, would have been saved and this story never have been written. At last Reg tumbled into bed, only to toss about and dream of dreadful accidents to Amy, with which Wyck was somehow connected, while he himself lay powerless to rescue her, fighting fiercely against the invisible hands which kept his hands tied, and his limbs stiff and helpless.

CHAPTER V.

THE OATH.

"Reg, Reg, get up," said Whyte, entering Morris's room the next morning.

"Hallo, dad, what time is it?"

"One o'clock, lad."

Ten minutes later Reg was down to his breakfast. The reminiscences of the previous night had come back to him, and were very bitter.

"Is Amy up yet?" he asked.

"Yes, and gone out," said Whyte, looking anxiously at him.

"What!" cried Reg, in surprise.

"About an hour ago," continued Whyte. "She came out of her room fully dressed for walking out, and looking as miserable as possible. I asked her where she was going, but she seemed not to notice, and only came up to me and flung her arms round my neck, kissed me, and left the room."

"Did she not say where she was going to?"

"No, lad; she said nothing."

"What would you suggest doing, Whyte? Shall I go and hunt this fellow Wyckliffe up, and ask him what he means?"

"No, lad. That will do little good. We will speak to Amy herself when she returns. Dear, dear! I fancy her brain must be touched," and the sympathetic old fellow walked hurriedly away to conceal the tears that would fall.

Reg walked to the garden with a heavy heart. There were all the pets waiting for their mistress. The dogs ran to him with yelps of enquiry; the birds twittered plaintively, as if they felt something was wrong.

Reg stooped and patted the dogs, and it seemed a relief to his bursting heart to tell them all his forebodings for the happiness of their home.

The weary hours pa.s.sed, and Amy returned. Her usually bright manner had disappeared; her step had lost its lightness, and there was an air of languor about her, very foreign to her nature. As she caught sight of Reg she hung down her head, and pa.s.sed rapidly into the house, taking no notice of the dogs who bounded towards her barking with delight. Reg slowly followed her, his face revealing the troubles of his heart.

"My darling girl," said Mrs. Whyte, as she met her in the pa.s.sage and, fondly throwing her arms around her, drawing her into the room. "Won't you trust us and tell us what is the matter?"

"Don't ask me, mother," said Amy, bursting into tears.

"Look here, Amy," said Whyte, coming forward and vainly trying to put a trace of sternness in his voice. "You must give us some explanation of your conduct, dear. You are not acting fairly by Reg."

"Oh, Amy, darling, I'll forgive anything. Only do tell me what has come between us," said Reg, coming quickly forward, and taking her hand he led her to a sofa.

At length her sobs became less violent, and she tried to say with some air of decision:

"I want you to release me, Reg. I find I do not love you sufficiently to be your wife."

"Release you!" cried Reg, starting.

"Yes, Reg dear. I cannot marry you now. I thought I loved you, but I find now I love another."

"Is _he_ the other?" asked Reg, sternly.

"Yes, I love Wyck."

"Wyck! is that Mr. Wyckliffe?"

"Yes. He told me to call him Wyck;" and here she began feverishly to pull off her engagement ring.

"Oh, don't take that off," cried Reg, in a pained voice.

"I must, Reg, I must. He told me to;" and she handed back the ring she had worn and caressed so long.

"Then all is over between us," said Reg, quietly.

"Yes, Reg. I am sorry, but it must be," and she slowly rose and went to her room, not noticing any of the others.

"Reg, my dear boy, bear up; be a man. G.o.d knows, it is a severe blow for us. So changed; so different! Had anyone told me that such a catastrophe could happen in such a short time, I would have given him the lie direct."

"Yes, Whyte, you are right. It is a blow, but there are times in every man's life when he is called on to bear the heaviest burdens, and it is his duty to submit. She has told me she prefers Wyck, as she calls him, to me; so I give way, and G.o.d grant he may make her happy."

"He is a stranger to us and, if he does marry her, he will take her away from us, and we may never meet again. With her all our happiness disappears," and tears again welled in the good old man's eyes.

"Whyte, I must see this man," said Reg, firmly, but threateningly.

"Reg, I beg you won't interfere. It will do no good. Promise me you will not interfere," said Whyte, imploringly, for he feared the consequences if Reg and his rival met.

"What shall I do then, dad?" he said, sadly.

"Go away for a few days. This sudden infatuation may go as quickly as it came, and when you return, perhaps we may see a change."

"Very well, dad. Your advice is always good. I will go away for a week, and wander about somewhere to kill time."

That evening he took the mail to Dover, and with a heavy heart crossed to France. The Whytes missed Reg sadly, and Whyte himself deeply regretted having advised him to go away, for Amy, instead of noticing his absence, seemed to become more and more absorbed every day in her new attraction, that she took no notice whatever of her surroundings.

She made no enquiry for Reg, and scarcely addressed anyone in the house.

The second day after his departure she went out in the same mysterious manner as before without explanation. Whyte thereupon determined to follow her.

He saw her take a 'bus going in the direction of the city, and managed to catch another running close behind it. At Westminster Bridge she quitted the 'bus, and looked round eagerly, till her gaze rested on a young man, who was laughing and talking with two others. After waiting in their vicinity, Whyte saw one of the trio lounge carelessly towards her and, without raising his hat or making any formal or respectful greeting, take her hand and kiss her on both cheeks. A roar of laughter greeted this proceeding from the two companions left on the pavement.

"Well, and how's little Amy to-day?" said Wyck, carelessly.

"Quite well and happy now, Wyck dear, thank you," replied Amy, in a bright tone, but in a dreamy, absent manner, walking away by his side along the Embankment.