SIR JOHN'S HEIRESS.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 9667, 4 December 1909, Page 2

SIR JOHN'S HEIRESS.

V BY F. L. DACRE, 7 \g Author of "A ho rsless Marriage," "A Change of Heart/' « ■'Trenholme's Trust," "A Case for the Court," / Etc, etc.

CHAPTER ll—Continued. "I wish'"you joy. my lad-every conceivable' joy and success! But there are so many disappointments, so many pitfalls! I have tried literature myself, and the cost of postage stamps to and from publishers was ruinous! You will think that I am a sort of Job's comforter, but I have seen life." He glanced apprehensively at the ceiling. T . j „«. "I hope that Mrs Jarvis does not smell the tobacco-smoke!" he murmured. "You are a dear old henpecked simpleton!" thought Victor, and then he rose to his feet.

"I won't worry you any more tonight, air; but to-morrow I will trot in and say 'giorf-by.' My heart is light enough, ai d I am not afraid of the future! I shall of course be sorry to have a split with the governor, but he can't expect to have everything his own way. I shall take Miss Carrington to her new lodgings to-mor-row, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your sympathy and advice!" There was an ominous bumping on the floor of the room above, and the rector nervously held out his hand. "It's Mrs Jarvis and a chair," he explained naively; "she calls me in that way when anything is wrong with the -er—children. Good night, my dear Linton—good night!" Victor ft It in no mood for sleep. With his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he walked slowly along the lane that led from the rectory to Harlech School. He must have one more glimpse of Hilda's window! Yes—a light was burning in her room. "My darling!" he muttered. "Heavens! how I hate and despise the people here!" He went to his aparmeots, and passed a restless night, his dreams being all of Hilda, and woke with the lark. From his open window he listened to the birds' rapturous songs.

"Beautiful Wales," he thought, "if my home were only here! How sordid and sunless Chancery L«ne will seem after this -how monotonous the eternal grind! 1 shudder at the prospect!" It seemed an age before the break-fast-bell rang. The young fellow swallowed his coffee hastily, ard soon was striding in the direction of Miss Lewis'little thop. Miss Lewis listened in amazement to the tale ne had to tell. So Hilda Carrington had found a lovtr-that shabby, unattractive, penniless schoolgirl—and the luver was a gentleman! How lucky some women were, and how blind some men!

"Oh, yes; she would be only too happy to oblige Mr Linton and the rector!

"And you might assist Miss Carrington in the choice of suitable clothes," Victor hazarded; "she thinks of buying a few things. If you will "

"Indeed, no!" answered Miss Lewis quickly. "Miss Carrington has the reputation of having a will of her own. I should not care to interfere. Mr Linton, but I will make her as comfortable as I can." Victor bowed his thanks. Promptly at eleven o'clock he was at Harlech School with a carriage, Hilda was waiting tor him outside, her own little trunk on the stop.

"That contains the whole of my belongings," she said; "I have been here since ten o'clock; we had a spat, Miss Morgan and I." Her eyes grew sullen and dark. Victor took the forlorn-looking figure'in his arms, in full view of.the astonished driver, and kissed her tenderly.

"It is all right now, darling; I have settled everything." In an instant her face lighted up, and she half sobbed:

'"Ot>, Victor, Victor, how can I ever, ever repay you?" There was no mistaking her earnestness, and her lover's heart thrilled through and through. For such bliss as tnis the whole world were well lost! The drive to Miss Lewis' occupied only a iew minutes, and, after Hilda had been shown her new home, the lovers were left alone for a little while.

"I have altered my plans slightly," Victor said, "and will leave you to do your shopping alone, darling. If I start for London by the midday train I can see my father to-night, and that may save us a lot of waiting. Then I have to get some cash, and make arrangements for our wedding and our honeymoon. , Unfortunately, there is a very practical side even to a honeymoon! Now, buy just what you like, and if you are pleased I shall te pleased, too." He thrust two Bank notes for ten pounds each into her rather unwilling hand. "How kind of you—how kind of you, Victor! But I will repay this money. You will have lots of work for me to do, dear?" "Yes," he said; "but we don't want to talß of that for a ilttle while. I am not in a working mood —I am too happy. I will write to you a long let-

ter to-morrow, and let you know when I am likely to return. Oh, my darling, for your sweet sake I would give up the whole world!" "I believe you would," she answered simply and gravely. "And some day I will prove to you how a poor, despised girl like myself can love!'

CHAPTER IV. AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCE MBNT. It was nearly nine o'clock when the express ran into Euston. Never hail the great railway station presented a drearier aspect—at least, that was Victor Linton's impression. The early autumn evening was dark, and a wild wind swept over the platform, the lamps glimmered through a yellowish blue haze, and the sharp air made his rostrils tingle and his throat husky. "I shall never like London again," he thought; "lite here would simply be unbearable! It is a delightful place to visit occasionally, but to be doomed to work in it and to live in it day after day " "Cab, sir? Hansom?" A porter barred his way, wistfully eyeing the satchel in his hand. "Any luggage, sir?" "No!" was the curt answer. His luggage was at Llanberis; he had no use for it in London yet a while. The porter hurried to the next compartment, disgusted with himself and with Victor Linton. The young lawyer had been familiar to him for several years, and this was the very first time the man had seen him arrive home without plenty of luggage and without giving him a handsome tip. He felt aa if he had been defrauded of some righj"; Victor left the station and turned into Euston Square, where the Lintons had lived for generations. The house in which they dwelt was a weather-beaten, gloom-looking old building.

Victor rang the bell, and aa soon as the door was opsned the caught sight ot* his 6ia er, a bright-faced, happy girl, with features closely resembling hi* own.

"Hallo, Marian!" He dropped his satchel and kissed her on the cheek. "Why, you are quite sunburned, Victor, and you look ever so much stouter! Have you walkel from the station? Father got your telegram nil light, and supper is waiting." ,"Be quiet, chatter-box!" he said, hanging up his hat. "Where is dad—and the mater?" " The question was answered by his mother, who met him in the doorway of the dining-room. "Welcome home, my dear boy! You can't think how :lull the house is without you!" The young man winced slightly as he kissed her. "Your father has been obliged to go back to the office to finish some important business—a case that h down for trial to-morrow, and about which he appeared to be very anxious. He has not been well lately, Victor; perhaps he may be able to have a spell of rest now that you have come home.'*

"Yes—certainly!" Victor answered. His mother's questioning, anxious gaze disconcerted him, and his conscience reproached him bitterly. "I'll talk matters over with him as soon as he comes home." "He won't be back until very late, I'm afraid—counsel and he have to settle some troublesome point—so you had better wait until the morning. I think. Come, sit down—you must be hungry and tired!" Marian rang the Lell, and supper waß soon served in the cozy, curtained room. Victor endeavoured to be cheerful, and to talk of his holiday. "Oh, yes—l have done. Snowdon, and have even been favoured by the Spec'er! I stood on the edge of a little cairn, and saw an exact image of myself thrown upon the clouds—just like the Bruoken, you know." "And what did you find to do in one place tor so long, Victor?" asked Marian. "I think that I should have been cop3tantly moving about. Now, confess- ryou have been story-writ-ing?" Victor looked guilty, and his face reddened.

"I could wish for no more con genial occupation, little sister!" There was bilence for a few minutes, and then Marian remembered that a letter had arrived to him that morning. He was not interested until the told him that the envelope bore the name of a publishing-house which had accept*! "a few things" from him. Again the guilty flush mantled his cheeks and brow, and Marian tantalizingly held the letter beyond his reach. "Guess the awful news! Your story is unsuitable, and you have failed to inclose stamps for its return, or is therein cheque between the mystic fold 3 of this paper?" TO BE CONTINUED.