For Her Sister's Sake; OR, THE LAVENDEN SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXIX, Issue 8351, 7 February 1907, Page 2

For Her Sister's Sake; OR, THE LAVENDEN SECRET.

/»"-' "For Her Sister's Sake/' was commenced on December 20th.]

' CHAPTER XXV.AContinued. "I am very fond of children," she answered, struggling to steady her shaking tones; "very. You said Mr Ingram was at lunch; pray do not let me interrupt you. I know how hard he works. I will wait, with pleasure." "You are most kind, Lady Lavenden," began the young nurse, but her sentence ended abruptly. A loud and startling crash had broken upon their «ars. It came from the inner doorway of the kitchen. Sister May turned quickly, and Julia Lavenden's gaze travelled anxiously in the same .autction. On the further threshold cf the low, irregular apartment, the fragments of a dish and some scattered cutlery at her feet, was Tilda Crimple. The nurse went across the the kitchen, sympathetic yet amused. "What, a pity, Tilda?" she said, bending to pick up the- pieces of crockery. "Did you trip?" Matilda Crimple was staring at Julia Lavenden, her shrewd face full of bewilderment and anxiety. The troubled look faded suddenly from her countenance, and, with a covert . glance at Sister May, she shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, I dunno," she snapped; "it's the floor, I suppose. It's all up hill and down dale. The landlord ought to be made to live here himself. Don't you mind those, sister'; Mr Ingram says will you please go up." What portions of the shattered dish the nurse had not picked up Tilda swept into a corner with a deft foot, that she might act upon this invitation. Oddly enough, the girl did not appear to notice Julia Lavenden's presence. Sister May went towards the lobby. "I will tell Mr Ingram that you have called, Lady Lavenden," she said. "I am sure he will want to see you immediately, lunch or no lunch." She gathered up her skirts and '. whisked merrily over the scene of Tilda's mishap. As she disappeared, Tilda came slowly to/Julia Lavenden's side, contemplating her doubtfully. Boysie was Tplaying with the jewelled rings on the visitor's white hand. "How are you to-day?" inquired Julia. She felt that she ought to say something, and yet she had no thought to spare from the small golden head that was poring over the glittering gems, so many of which . she would have given in exchange for but one of its twining silken curls. She had forgotten her vanished sister, her fugitive Husband, forgotten everything but her child. Tilda stared all the harder. "Quite ''i welli my lady,", she said, and relapsed into silence. "And Boysie?" pursued Julia, fondling the ruffled golden head,' "does he keep well? He looks pale." She laid her fevered cheek to the child's • dimpled one. Matilda Crimple's amazement seemed to increase. "Boysie's well enough, my,lady," she rejoined. "Don't -ydu worry about his pale face. London's not the country. Most of us hereabouts look a bit pasty." Her beady black eyes studied Julia searchingly, then lit with intelligence. ■ "I twig," she whispered, "you can keep it up, and no error. It's all right; dad's a marvel to fool the police. They've been after him a dozen times, and never copped him :■■ yet. >So make your mind easy. You did give me a turn, though, at first. S-ssh, here's sister!" She drew back; the staircase that descended near the kitchen door was creaking under a quick step. But it was not that of the nurse. ■ : ' The Reverend Charles Ingram himself strode in. , Julia rose hastily, letting Boysie slip to the floor. "This is very kind of you, Lady Lavenden," said the curate; "lam so sorry you have been kept waiting. May I ask you to come upstairs." "I —I am afraid I have called at an inconvenient moment," stammered Julia, scarcely conscious of what she was saying. Charles Ingram

■ laughed. "Sister May told me you were more ! than considerate about my lunch," he answered, "but, honestly, I have finished my meal, never a very long one. Miss Anderson —I mean Sister May—and I were talking over only yesterday a project in regard to which we should like to make use of your generous qffers of. assistance, and I have asked her to remain while, with your permission, I broach it to you." Julia Lavenden heard the words as if they had been spoken in a dream. Her head was whirling with the effort to fathom the meaning of Matilda Crimple's strange and interrupted utterance. It hinted at danger—and danger from the law. But to whom ? To her husband, the escaped convict, who had a3 yet apparently, evaded the pursuit of the authorities? Did the Crimples know of his hiding-place and movements; had they mentioned her visits to ' 'him? With a struggle, she ;shook her mind free of the problems that were harassing it. She must not arouse Charles Ingram's suspicions; herpretextffor seeking his acquaintance, and "V'Jeing her child, must be maintained at all costs. '' i*^ "1 shall be delighted," she said, ■stealing a glance at Boysie, whom Tilda whs coaxing back to his toys. • The thought of what was at stake steadied her overwrought nerves, and she wv.ni; out of the kitchen to mount the Ktaiw and enter the small, somberly fii»'i)i.-;hed room that formed the curate's "<!en." May Anderson was standing by the window, her fresh

By R. Norman Silver, thor of "A Double Mask," "4 Daughter of Mynt a• %. ( "Held Apart,': " r Jhe Golden Dwarf" etc.

young beauty a bright spot in the gloomy bachelor chamber. Charles Ingram placed a couple of chairs for his visitors and took up his position on the worn hearth-rug. Despite his shabby clerical clothes and gaunt figure, there was something about him both striking and distinguished, and the light of a quiet enthusiasm shone in his grave, good-natured eyes as he plunged into the subject to which he had taken it for granted her call related. "Our idea, Lady Lavenden," he declared, "or, rather, Sister May's idea, was to trespass upon your generosity- since you have authorized us to take the liberty—sufficiently to found a children's country holiday home for the poor youngsters of the parish." tajgafr "We thought of it, Lady Lavenden," put in May Anderson, "because of your speaking, the'last time you were here, about Boysie needing a change of air. There£are so many little, ones in this neighbourhood who need no medicine so much as a change of air.' "It would not cost a great deal, either," pursued the curate, "only the expense of acquiring and converting a few suitable cottages in some quiet spot. I would undertake to find the funds'for its maintenance. And it would be a lasting boon to our delicate youngsters." Julia Lavenden sighed at the recollection of her own child's pale cheeks. ■ '

"It is an excellent plan," she answered, "I am glad you have given me an opportunity of sharing in it. Do whatever you think advisable; I will provide the necessary funds. Only," she continued hastily, "I must ask that no publicity2.be given to my name." Charles Ingram glanced at her with well-bred admiration. 1 "Your wishes shall certainlylbe respected, Lady Lavenden," he promised; "and now as to details " He paused; Julia had stopped him by a gesture. "Forgive me, Mr Ingram,",she said, "but I am sure those are better left to,you and to Miss Anderson. Indeed,/I should prefer it. Just now I am in great personal trouble, and not fit to think of anything but my own sorrows. Anything I can possibly do I will; you need only let me know."

The curate would have spoken; but she rose and held out her hand. He took it silently. "Good-bye, Miss Anderson," she added, and gave her hand to the youngnurse. May Anderson clasped the ungloved fingers, and found them very cold. fe««The curate opened the door to show his strange, visitor downstairs. Her stay had been almost embarrassingly brief.' ; ' "I teamed the other day, Lady Lav r enden,"4he said, as they descended the steep flight, "that we have a friend in common, j Edward Agile w " Julia Lavenden r started. "You know Edward Agnew?" she asked. Charles Ingram assented. "We were chums at college," he replied, "and ourj| friendship has proved a lasting one. Agnew is a splendid fellow, one of the best'.' ■ .It seemed to Julia that the meshes of some deadly net were closing about her. Ingram knew Agnew, therefore her visits >to the house would ultimately come to the young lawyer's knowledge, if they had not done so already. She had told /Agnew something of her terrible secret; might not her interest in Boysie be commented on, might not ,

A panic of unreasoning, terror seized upon her; she felt that the curate was watching her with illconcealed interest and attention.

"Y-yes," she stammered, "you are right. Mr Agnew is a fine character. It—it is quite a coincidence that we should both know him." !*" J She extended her hand again, but looked suddenly away from him as he touched it. Matilda Crimple,' hearing her voice, bad come along'the lobby from the rear of the house. She wasjcarrying Boysie J* f|*&fc£" : '- At the sight of her child the" tears sprang to Julia Lavenden's fevered eyelids. She dared not linger; her self-control was giving^way. for the ;present, Mr Ingram," It she said.*!*»" Good-bye, Boysie; good-bye, Tilda." She kissed the child's cheek and turned to i the % The curate opened \ it, 'P and she saw thejfsurprise in his face at the absence of any waiting vehicle. '- "I—l walked here," she explained, answering his famspoken thought; "I wanted to be alone. \\ Good-bye once more." / .£Li.w^SaESl"aw»ilßttß