THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12620, 3 December 1926, Page 4

THE LUCK OF THE LINDSAYS

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

BY

MARGARET TYNDALE.

[COPYRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XXV.—“OF THE DEAD —NOTHING BUT GOOD.” Julia shed tears of real sorrow when she heard of her husband’s tragic death, the news of which Adela broke gently to her on the following morning. “Perhaps he was on his way here to toll you how sorry he was thnt he had treated you so badly-, dear,” she said soothingly, as the girl put her arms round her neck and began to sob violontly. “I think he must have been, for your father heard him mention your name almost with his Inst breath.” “Shall I have to wear crepe?” questioned the girl with quaint irrelevancy, “and horrid things hanging down my back that they call ‘weeds,’ isn’t that so, mother?” , Adela smiled in spite of herself, for the words made her realise very poignantly how young Julia really was, in spite of all the suffering through which she had had to pass. And somehow the thought brought her comfort, for she felt that, in spite of the girl's terrible mistake, the better part of her stefi-daughter’s life still lay before her. But the one to whom Gordon’s death came as the greatest blow was perhaps Lady Violet Gilderoy. She had naturally heard from Edward Conyngham of his rough treatment of his young wife, and also of Alec Lindsay’s return to Chestermere; but where Gordon was, or what he was doing, she had been unable to ascertain. The sudden news i f the terrible conclusion of his short, unhappy married life, therefore was a shock from which she felt she would never recover. She refused to listen to some of her friends’ unsympathetic remarks about the dead man, and hi her great sorrow would have insisted upon erecting a marble monument to his memory in Chestermere Churchyard had she not heeu firmly overruled by Conyngham, who considered such a mark of respect both unnecessary and inopportune, for he could not forget the life Gordon had led, and although the fact that he was dead protected him in a certain measure from the censure of most of his fellowmen, Conyngham could not lightly condone his offences. In order to forget her own sorrows amidst those of her less wealthy sisters, Lady Violet began to take a keen interest in the poorer tenants on her •oouain’s estates, for since the death of his father, Edward Conyngham’s responsibilities hOd increased ten-fold. And instead of discouraging her he did everything in his power to .provide her with the work she desired, for he knew that her sorrow would heal only with time, and that the quickest and most effectual balm for her wound was the very work she had chosen. Meanwhile at the Priory, too, affairs had begun to shape themselves into something like order, for on looking into his accounts Lindsay had discovered that they'were far from satisfactory, and he and Adela had therefore set to work to disentangle matters as soon as possible. had not put in an appearand, but one morning some weeks after Gordon’s death Alec received a letter bearing the postmark of an obscure town in Italy. There was no other indication of his address, and even had Lindsay so wished ho would have fonnd the task of tracing Mainwaring a by no means easy one. “My dear Lindsay” (he had written), —"By the time you receive this, our mutual friend, Gordon, will have passed into the shades. I wae on my way to join you at the Priory when he attacked me, with disastrous consequences, as you know. I wish you ipy in your new life without the guiding hand of my humble self, for I have the good taste to realise that now vou no longer require my company. I would like to tell you one thing, however, as it may amuse you to hear of it. The stone bv which you have in the past set so much store 'is nothing more than a quite effective piece of glass, which T took the trouble to have valued when the charming lady who is now your wife first brought her disturbing influence into my life. You will find it in one of the drawers of my bedroom. “For the rest, nothing remains but for me to wish you the best of luck, a commodity which would seem to have deserted you on the disappearance of the Lindsay stone—a state of affairs for which I alone am responsible, although you can call it chance, if vou like.” This audacious epistle Aleo and his wife read with some amusement. “What cru. one do in the face of such an out-and-out confession of ro-

guerv us that?” asked did think of hunting him up and making things a bit warm for him, but atter all, we should gain nothing by it, and merely lose our self-respect into the bargain.” “I am very glad he has had the decency to confess about the stone in any case'” replied Adela, feeling that her troubles were disappearing rapidly. “We will return it to its restingplace at onci—not for the luck it mayor may not bring us, but to remind us of the bad times we have all been through during its absence.” “That’s a capital idea!” replied her husband, with a tender smile. “Besides. it may bring us good luck after all. who knows!”

'“lt- will bring us good luck. A!- <■ said his wife softly, “because it shall be a mascot against all misundei -t----ing, all doubts, all fears for the future.”

They experienced some trouble in find the stone, however, but when it was once more safely in its ease in the drawing-room, Adela felt that it metaphorically marked the lie; 'i l -- ■ of the long road of the; happv future, by which she and her husband were to travel ns long as life lasted.

The old Priory was once more filled with the sound of bright merry voices, for the “family”—as the servants put it—had returned after very nearly a year’s absence. Alec Lindsay _ had deemed it, better both for his wife’s health and that of his daughter, to take them abroad for a while, and although at first he had not intended to stay away from England so long, the months spent in happy, aimless, wandering crept on until with the return of spring they found themselves in the'Land of the Rising Sun with its wonderful people, its odd mixture of the ancient and the modern, and the wilderness of blossoms that had come with the yearly rebirth of Nature. Then only did Julia begin secretly 7 to pine for home, for she had come to realise that all the beauties -of the world around her mattered little when they were unsnared by the one who, for her, held the sfecret of all joy. Adela instantly read the girl’s secret with the knowledge gained from her own experience, and so, without betraying the fact to anyone, she spoke to her husband of their return. “We have been away from home quite long enough, Alec,” she said, “much long' than we ever thought for. 1 think Julia has' secret leadings towards ‘the auld countrie,’ although she has actually said nothing to me about it.”

“I thought you two were insatiable,” laughed Lindsay, as he laid aside an ancient copy of the “Times” he was reading, in reply to his wife’s remark. “But we will go hack just as soon as you desire. I live hut to servo you.” : His smile was very tender as he spoke, and Adela could not help contrasting her husband as she now knew him with the Alec Lindsay she had married. His former moroseness had entirely left him; she declared sometimes that he had even developed a sense of humour. The sorrows and misfortunes of the past had brought them closer together, it would seem, than the smooth tenor of an untroubled existence would have been likely to do. “We will talk it over with Julia then/' she ahhw<cred, “and see when she wishes to go, back.” , And Julia, who had been wondering how best to turn the thoughts of her parents towards home, received her stepmother’s suggestion with an enthusiasm that seemed scarcely warranted, in view of the many joys of travel which had been hers. “Julia,” laughed her father, mischievous twinkle in his eye that brought a wave of colour to the girl’s face, “I shall begin to think you nave some secret reason for wanting to get back home in such a hurry. . I am afraid you women-folk are terribly ungrateful.” “If I thought that you meant that,” retorted Julia, putting her hands affectionately upon her father’s shoulders, “if I really thought for one moment that you meant it, I’d he so angry, I wouldn't speak to you from here to Timbuctoo.” ' “I thought we-, were going to England,” answered Lindsay teasingly. “So we are, and hooray for the auld countrie!” cried the girl, and with the ardent blood of youth tinting lip and cheek and Bhell-hke ear, she went hurriedly to her room to set about preparations for a hasty departure for home. (To be continued.)