TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10423, 14 September 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER Xlll—Continued,

Clare, in her dressing gown and , with her hair down her back,_lookv. very pretty as she lay back in rocking chair, swaying gently. The blinds were down and the ™ Q do * open; the sounds of traffic in Hill Street came in a subdued murmur over the flower boxes on the sdlsit was the laziest hour of the afternooi. . 4. white gown lay across the couch, . and a drawerful of chiffons had been . tumbled out beside it the low bed in , the adjoining room wixh ( ■a similar pretty litter. Clare had been amusing herself since luncheon by turning out her wardrobe. Lorraine, lving back in another rocking chair, did not" sway as her foster sister did. With her hands linked together behind her neck, she sat looking straight before her, her dark brows level h a deep indentation between them, her lips pressed into a scarlet line. j Clare stopped rocking > "What a litter I have made! she I shesaid. 'And I shall have to clear . it all up again, too. I used to think j Anna was a lazy puss and wonder what she did with her time. I m afraid I must have given her plenty to do, Lorraine. I've always had a I mania for tnrning my things out since I we were both tiny mites,' haven t 1. I wonder whether that's the reason ( I she decides not to come back or , whether it is realy all because of the wheelwright?" . 'Nonsense 1 You were always tne kindest, most considerate mistress. It is all the wheelwright, be sure. "Well, I suppose it is. But lam sorry to lose Anna. - She is a nice girl, and knows my ways. but it she is in love and her swee-heart threatens, to break himself to pieces it is natural that she stay and marry him before hi damages himself. She is puite right, lut it tiresome. I hate strangers about me. "You should have let iikj go on , dressing you, Clare. ' 'As though I would! ion came up to town to enjoy yourself, uarunc.not to*be turned into a lady 9 :»iarl. The advertisement was out th-s naming. We may have .some applicants Il "cixy!" * 'lf we are to have any at oil. we , shall, no doubt. Why?" i •'I had quite (forgotten. 1 was I thinking.of my dresing gown. Willi mv future abigail ever respect me ti she sees me first like this? It doesn fc matter. As you have often told me, I have never kept a servant in proper order yet, and never shall. If any (applicants arrive we shall have them brought up to us. You will see them, too, won't you, dear? I never remember half the things to aslc ft hem And, besides, it is only right to the girl appointed that she should understand from the first .that she is responsible for the turning out of itlhe both of us, although she will 'soon find out which gives her the 'most trouble.' L'orraine did liot speak; her face

bore an abstracted, thoughtful look. When, nothing ailed either her health or spirits, Clare was seldom, still. She ' rose presently and sauntered into thii 'adjoining bedroom, where she tumbled about the heaps of dainty trifles with which .she had littered it. Finally she "went to the mirror, twisted up all the brown hair into a thick knot uponher neck, and came back again. Lorraine had not moved. 'Clare stopped and put her lips fondly to her fore-, head. 1 'How silent you are, near! And so pale, tool I shall begin to 'think presently that London doesn't suit "I am quite well, Clare." "So yoii always say. But lam beginning to take the liberty of doubting it. You look thinner —I am sure you are. Your cheeks have got hollows in them, and your chin is. getting sharp. He was quite right. What a iselfish wretch; I am not to notice it when he did!" "When you did!" asked Lorraine ehiarply. "I know of whom jou are thinking, but it wasn't Mr.Rosenthal ialthough helookedthe picture.of dejection when , you*dad not appear last night, and went off without (having the politeness me to danoe with him. don't '?frownJ darlingT The line between your ! eyebrows is getting a great\ deal too deep already, and if you really pretend not ;to know that the poor .man—oh, very well I wont! There! I meant Mr Severance." | "What had Mr. Severence to say ajboutme;" "To say about you!" Clare cried, with a laugh. " What a way to put it, ; dear! It sounds as if you suspected the poor fellow of taking away your character. He said he thought you were noifc looking at iall well, and that he had especially noticed it on the night of Mrs. Moorfield's dance. I hadn't noticed it myself. But he was quite right." "You are both fanciful, I think, Clare." saying it gently, Lorraine put Up her hand and touohed the other's soft cheek caressingly. "There is nothing wrong with me, my love, I ■tell you again; you must get that not- ; ion out of your head. But I confess I ( 'have been silent just now. I have been ' is something I want to ask you." "To ask me? ! ' Clare's hazel eyes opened wonderingly. "Then, why don't you ask it, dear?" "Well, I will. It has puzzled me once or twice." She sat erect. Her stormy eyes looked up as the soft, perplexed ones looked down. "Do you remember, Clare, telling me of a suspicion that you had?" "A suspicion?" "Yes; about Sir Bernard's will —

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERDNA, Author of "A Mere Ceremony."

,about its disappearance—about wh-> litole it." , "I —I don't remember, Lorraine. What did I say?" "You must remember." Lorraine watched her companion's fair face as though it perplexed her. "You told me that you thought that you knew whom to isuspeot—that if you were a detective and 'had to look for the thief yoU would You stopped then. I stopped you, I think. What did you mean ?" "Oh, I remember now." Clare turned jixnd sat down on the other's knee.? as fehe spoke. "I dare say it is only a foolish fancy, Lorraine, and I muse have been very stupid if I spoke >as confidently as that. But still, it does seem a little absurd, don't you think, that everybody lias looked at one side of the question only. It was very easy to say that it must have been stolen to benefit Derek. But it really is not a bit more reasonable than the other view. Now is it?" ' 'What other viiew ?''

"Well, the opposite one. Hasn't it ever struck you that there may have ibeen some woman with a reason for hating Mr Severance, and that to. bo revenged upon him e*he ' Lorraine 'Sprang up, with a cry of (indignation. "Clare!" she cried. "Ah! I know from whom that comes. Only Sir Derek would be capable of putting such ail idea into your head. You would never have thought of a thing go utterly mean and cruel!" Her cheeks were scarlet; her great eyes blazed. Clare flushed, too. Her sweet face expressed pain and wonder. "Yes, Derek did suggest «t. Why not? What do you mean jorraine? ■Why should not Mr Severance have an enemy?" "Anenemv?" "Yes. I though it was 'so very likely: When a lawyer does not win a case, I dare say people are often angry and blame him. . And women are so much more unreasonable with law ■matters than .men. I thought he might have offended this, woman in some such way. The whole affair is ! «o strange that one wonders all sorts !of things. Why are you angry about ; it?" "Forgive me, dearest!" With a swift change in her voice and face Lorraine put her arm about the' other's waist and kissed her. "I had no right to speak to you so. You never think or suspect of believe evil of anybody. It is myself I should be angry with, not you, my darling!"

Her tone and embrace was vehement there was in her look and attitude an almost fiercely protecting fondness, such as a mother might have shown. Glare gently disengaged herself. '"Hie idea of you asking me to forgive you, Lorraine! What nonsense! And as though I should be likely to think anything bad of Mr Severance! I like him too much—you know I do! And it was only just a suggestion by ] Derek in one of the letters he wrote j me from abroad. He mentioned the 1 will now and then, you know. And I dare say I made too much of it. He has never isaid a single word against him—holikes him, I think." "Sir Derek likes Mr 1 Severance ?" Lorraine asked slowly. "I think so. . Well, lam sure he does. And so he ought. He has told me how kind iMr Severance was before the discovery. He made him the most generous offers of assistance. Derek says he shall never forget, and that he means to reward him one of these days. He says he is not the man to let that sort of debt go unpaid. So he must like him, you see." She paused, and her flushed, eager face changed "wistfully. "Ah! I wish you would learn just one lesson, Lorraine!" "What lesson?" aslfed Lorraine. , "To be generous—no, I won't say that— to be just to Derek. To—to like him, dear. Can't you? For my sake? I—l love you both so much!" Her arms crept round the other's neck, her head dropped upon her bFeast. Over the nestling head Lorraine's eyes burned firelike in a face as colourless as,pnow. For ajull minute both girls Were silent. Then Lorrains.spoke slowly. " When ypu are Derek Willoughby's wife, when he has made you a happy woman, when he has proved himself worthy of your'love, then I will like your husband, Olare. When that time comes, my sweet, I promise that I will look at him with your eyes as far as I can." ( She gently loosened the other's clasp and drew away. Then, as though fired 'by a sudden impulse, she turned and caught Clare's wrists. "Are you as fond of him as ever, Clare? As fond of 'him as you were before Sir Bernard died ? As fond of him as you were while he was away ? Tell me, my dear—tell me! Is he still the only man in the world for ; you? Does all your love and happiness rest with him ? Is there no change I in yon—none?" | (To be continued.)