THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12609, 20 November 1926, Page 19

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALL

(COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XVII.—AUNT BESSIE ADVISES.

“God forgive you, for I never can!’’ The words fell on Adela’s ears like a sentence of death, yet for the moment she was scarcely able to realise their full significance. “After this, I think you will understand that for a time at least it is impossible for us to live together under the same roof. The bitter knowledge of your deception would be an ever-recurring memory while I was forced to meet you day by day. I have therefore determined to go abroad for a time, and my brother-in-law will accompany me. I shall arrange about Donald before I go."

A sudden feeling of pride prevented Adela from making any reply to her husband’s words. She felt unable to cope with the difficulties that had sprung up like thorns about her path, ready to choke the happiness of her married life. She did not attempt to explain things; her lips seemed parched and incapable of moving, for the injustice of her husband’s attitude towards her had almost broken her heart. At this moment there fame a discreet knock at. the door, and Thompson entered.

“Miss Gunning has come, sir,” he said deferentially, not appearing to notice anything unusual in his master’s >ttrn hearing, or the averted head of his voung mistiess. “Very well; ask her to come here,” said Lindsay brusquely.

The man withdrew, and a moment later Aunt Bessie, anxious and distressed by the news she had heard, was shown into the room. “What is all this trouble about Julia?.” she asked, as she kissed her niece affectionately and then shook hands with Lindsay. “My wife 'will explain matters better than I can, Miss Gunning,” was the cold reply. “I don’t feel quite equal to reopening the discussion of a subject whicn, to say the least of it, i< extremely painful to me. If you will therefore excuse me. I will go and see how my brother-in-law is progressing.” “Alec—1 —you must hear me—it is only fair that you should listen !’ began Adela brokenly as she took _ a step towards her husband, feeling, instinctively that this would be the last opportunity for many months that she would have of explaining this terrible state of affairs.

Alec Lindsivy paused with his hand on the handle of the door, and looked back at his wife.

“The tihie for explanations is past,” he said coldly. “It is too late now,” and with a grave bow to Miss Gunning, he opened the door and passed out. '

As Adela began to realise the terrible poignancy of his words, sobs escaped from her lips, and sitting down in a chair, she buried hfer face in her kahds.

“Hush, hush, my dear, the servants will hear you,” said Aunt Bessie, with gentle warning, as she came and stood stroking the girl’s bent head. “Won’t you teU me all about it? lam so completely at a loss, you see. All I know is that Julia has run away from home, uiul that Roger Mninwaring has been shot—the head gardener told uic that early this morning.” And then, in low, broken tones Adda poured out her woes into the sympathetic ears of Aunt Bessie, not sparing herself* but giving justifiable reasons for her conduct, and when she had finished, Miss Gunning looked very grave.

“I am afraid there are serious faults on both sides, my dear,” she did not scruple to say. “I can quit© understand you* reason for keeping your former attachment to Stanley Gordon a secret from your husband, perhaps, for 1 know that it is an unpleasant memory of which you prefer not to think; but you did certainly make a mistake in keeping Julia’s meetings with Gordon a secret from him. Oh, yes, dear, I can quite see that yon didn't want to be thought interfering, and desirous of making mischief between the girl and her father; but wouldn’t it have been better, in view of what has happened, to have shown him the anonymous letter you received, leaving him to deal with the matter in his own way ? You could hnvo explained things so much more satisfactorily; you could have told him that, in view of the shabby trick Gordon had served von, von wero determined to spare Julia from such a fate, even if it entailed some personal inconvenience to yourself bv the raking up of memories connected with a period in your life which is, and alwavs will be in spite of everything, a terribly unhappy one to you”

Adela raised a tear-stained face to her aunt as she said brokenly; “I can see now that I have erred; but then there was no necessity for my I husband to behave so cruelly—to make insinuations that were so utterly mean and despicable.” “But you must remember, dear,” replied Miss Gunning, gently, “that your husband is in the throes of a terrible grief, and indirectly, though never a moment willingly, you are the cause of it. He is blinded to the wickedness of Roger Mainwgring; nothing will induce him to believe that this man is his dire enemy—that he is the direct cause of all this mischief, since *t was partly fear of him and his treachery that induced you to settle matters with Gordon without your husband’s knowledge.” “What am I to do. Aunt BessieP” said the girl hopelessly, after a moment. “Go and find your husband, my dear, and insist upon his listening to your explanation,” was the emphatic advice. “You •can do nothing while things remain as they are.”

“I can’t!” said Adela passionately. “Oh, it is so humiliating t# have to make explanations, especially when one’s actions are so liable to be misunderstood. ” “Weil, my dear, I should do my best to make peace with my husband if I were you,” answered Miss Gunning gently. “Nothing can be gained, and every hour that passes only serves to estrange you yet more, while you are both labouring under these painful misunderstandings. Nothing you can do will now alter the fact of Julia’s marriage. If. as .you think, Mainwaring knew of the girl’s meetings with Gordon, and encouraged them, he is a thousand times more to blame than you are.” “But I have no proof, Aunt Bessie,” said Adela. “Roger Mainwaring is so clever, and he will never let my husband believe what I tell him. Why, he* has even dared to throw the blame of last night upon Donald’s shoulders, and the boy. for some inexplicable reason, has retracted what he said, but refuses to explain.” “Yes.” answered the elder woman with a deep sigh, “I am afraid there will be still further troubles for your husband unless he can be brought to see how harmful Mainwaring’s influence is in his home. Do you think it is of anv use appealing to Donald?” Adela shook her head. “I have long given up that hope,” she said wearily. “Donald is a nice boy, but somehow he has managed to get into his uncle’s power, and nothing I can say will induce him to make a clean breast of things.” “Well, wo must hope for the best,” and Miss Gunning tried to smile with her usual brightness, although the future at that moment looked anything hut hopeful. For some minutes the two women were silent; then at last Adela rose to her feet. “If you really think it will be of any use. Aunt Bessie,” she said. “I’ll go and find Alec.” “Do, my dear,” answered her aunt encouragingly. “I’ll wait for vou here. Don’t keep back anything—not even about Donald. The time lias passed when you can respect confidences. Your own happiness is at stake, and, what is of even more vital importance, your honour.” Miss Gunning patted her niece’s cheek with fond sympathy. “Now, run along, dear,” she said with a mile, “and the best of luck.” Dux her good wishes and encourage* ment proved useless, for a few moments later Adela returned, her grey eyes wide with suffering and her pale face very drawn. She did not speak, but stood looking at her aunt with such stonc-like calm that the little woman grew somewhat frightened. Then, before Miss Gunning could Tirevent her. she fell fainting to the floor, striking her head as she did so against the sharp corner of a large mahogany writing-table. (To be continued.)