THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12616, 29 November 1926, Page 4

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALE.

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XXll.—Aunt BESSIE. The grounds of the Priory were radiant with daffodils when Adela and Miss Gunning returned one bright spring afternoon. They had been absent some months, for the doctors had strongly advised Miss Gunning to give her niece as much change of scene as possible; and to Aunt Bessie’s joy there came a day when Adela’s health seemed to revive, so that by the time the spring had come she was pronounc- * ed well enough to return home. It was a sad home-coming for the girl, but she lived in the hope that one day her husband would return, although she knew only too well that while Mainwaring’s influence was paramount in his life, he would never take her into his heart again. Donald had written to Miss Gunning telling her of the fact that he had written direct to his father, but saying very little about Julia and the unhappy outcome of her hasty marriage. He had explained that because of his doubts of Roger Mafnwaring he had written the letter under cover of one from Edward Conyngham, a friend of Julia’s, and believed that his father would write direct to Adela, but begging Miss Gunning to arouse no false hopes in her niece’s heart for fear of disappointment. Miss Gunning had written hack to the boy asking him to furnish her with Lindsay's address, but aa yet she had received no reply, . and for this reason she had determined to keep the news contained in Donald’s letter a secret from Adela until she had some real purpose in reopening the subject. On the morning following their arrival at the Priory, however, Thompson brought Adela a telegram which she hastily opened with fingers that were visibly trembling, for she hardly knew what to expect; but the news it contained was certainly not that for which she had hoped. Mrs Gordon met with accident (was the message). Can you come to her, 25, Blaygrave Mansions, South Kensington ?— Montague. Adela read the wire through twice, and then handed it to her aunt. “We must go at once,” was Miss Gunning’s only comment. , “Is the boy still there. Thompson?” aeked Adela. “Yes. ma’am—it’s a ‘reply paid.’ ” “Give him this, then,” she said, and hastily wrote a message to the effect that she would go to her stepdaughter at once. ‘You musn’t come with me. Aunt Bessie.” she added as the man withdrew. “The Idng journey to town is much too trying, especially after the had time you have had with me, i I will take my mnid; she will look i after me quite well.” Miss Gunning demurred, hut was forced at last to give in to her niece’s wishes, for her own health had been causing her some trouble lately, and she felt it incumbent upon her to regard the warnings of her doctor. When Adela was ready to start she said goodbye to her with a lingering tenderness, and kissed her three times before she let her go. ' For some unaccountable reason '■ Adela could not repress her tears, and somehow she felt terribly reluctant to leave the sweet-faced, tender-hearted little lady to the care of the servants. “I’ll come back as soon aB ever I can, Aunt Bessie,” she said, endeavouring to smile through her tears. “Good-bye.” And the picture of little Miss Gunning, as she stood framed in the doorway of the wide entrance of tho Priory was one that Adela never forgot. But in consequence of slow trains, Adela and tho maid did not reach town until rather late in the afternoon, and directing Higaon to engage rooms at some suitable hotel, Adela drove straight to No. 25, Blavgravo Mansions. She was welcomed by Phyllis Montague with extreme cordiality, not untinged by relief, and Adola received a very full and detailed account of what had taken place the previous night. “Has her husband been told of the terrible consequences of this quarrel, Mrs Montague?” asked Adda quietly, when sho had heard almost everything that was to be told about the affair. “No,” was tho reply. “My husband and I—and indeed the doctor—thought it would be better not to make him acquainted with his wife’s whereabouts, and so we ha*e cautioned the porters here to say nothing should he ask

about her. Not that he will—lie went out this morning just as though nothing had happened, except that he seemed very depressed.” ‘‘lt is very kind of you and your husband to have taken so much trouble with my daughter, Mrs Montague. My husband is at present away, but I am sure 1 can add his thanks to mine." Mrs Montague would hear no words of thanks, and at Adela’s request took her at once to the sick room. “Here’s a visitor for you, Mrs Gordon,” she said, as she opened the door of tho bedroom, and then with great tact she left Adela and Julia alone. It was a trying moment, but at the sight of Julia’s pain-drawn face and hollow cheeks, Adela’s love at once broke through the barrier of reserve, and bending down she kissed the girl tenderly on the forehead. The action touched Julia more than, any words could have done, for it was months since she had known any other kindness than that of Edward Conyngham. Lady Violet Gilderoy had been kind to her, it is true, but the girl felt that her friendship was aroused by pity alone and not through affection, a fact which had sometimes galled Julia's proud nature. “You will forgive me, won’t you, mother?” asked the girl brokenly. “I —l’m so sorry.” “Dear,” said her step-mother gently, as she stroked the pretty brown hair, ‘‘there is nothing to forgive. TVe both made mistakes, it would seem.” “But it wasn’t you; it was I,” insisted Julia. “I made one very big mistake,” said Adela sadly. “I was afraid to trust your father, and if only I had done, so, you would not be lying here now, neither would you he tied irretrievably to a man who is not fit to touch the hem of your dress.” “If anyone is to blame besides myself it is Roger Main waring,” answered Julia. “He made mischief all round. I am firmly convinced now that he took our lucky stone, and this is why all this trouble has come upon us. He had tried to lay the theft at your door —and I—l believed it.” “Unless he himself confesses we shall never really know. Julia,” said Adela. “Tho most important thing for us now is to find your father and explain matters. Bv the way. I believe Eward Conyngham is a great friend of yours, and my aunt told me just before 1 came away that he has written to your father although for what reason doesn’t appear clear. Do you think he wrote about your husband's treatment of you, Julia?” “I didn’t know he was writing at all,” answered the girl. “But he has been very kind to me. and I am afraid he knows very little good of Stanley.” “It may be that, then,” said Adela. “Oh, let us hopo he may be able to reach your father in some way, and that then he will come home and set all these matters right.” “Well, we’ve discovered that he is at present in Japan, and that’s something,” said Julia thoughtfully. “If we get no reply to our letter. I shall borrow sufficient monev to go and find him—that’s what I’ll do I” The arrival of a smart maid with a dainty tea-try pnt a temporary end to their private conversation, and a few moments later Mrs Montague entered the room. She insisted that Adela should stop to dinner, and would not he satisfied until she had secured an acceptance of her invitation. “I thought we should enjov tea better here, Mrs Lindsay,” she said brightly, as she hegan to arrange the delicate cups and saucers to her liking. “Dr Crewe insists unon vour little girl staying in bed for at least two or three days longer.” “But we couldn’t possiblv tresnass on your generosity to that extent! I can easily mnlco arrangements for Julia to stay in a nursing-home,” replied Adela. astonished at such a display of kindness from an entire stranger. “You will offend me deeply if vou do.” said Phyllis Montague. Over dinner they discussed many things, and Adela felt that she had found a friend in this cultured, refined woman. “C'ome as early as you like to-mor-row,” said Mrs Montague, as she was going. “1 shall be delighted to see you at aix o’clock if vou care to come.” “Yes. come early.” echoed Julia. “Mrs Montague has written to Donald for me. and he will verv likelv be hero to-morrow. T exnected him today, but he has probably not received