TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10432, 25 September 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER XVlll.—Continued. The lights were lowered, the curtain went up. Severance did not even turn his head towards the stage; it was of no interest to him. He stared intently across the dark pit which separated him from Lorraine; for him the 'box — the whole theatre —was empty but for the man who was leaning over her chair. Now and then it seemed that he could catch the glint of her bright hair as she moved her head; her eyes were looking up into Rosenthal's most likely. He did not in the least know what had happened to him; the shock quivering through him was too bewildering for analysis. He was clearly conscious of but one thing—a desperate impulse to go to her, to thrust aside that other man. So he sat in torment till the act was over and the curtain fell. As it did so, and the theatre-was bright again, he turned to Mrs. Moorfield.

I "What did you mean," he said abruptly, "about Rosenthal?" "Mean?" Mrs. Moorfield had 'glanced, over once or twice at him, had seen his .attitude and where his eyes were fixM; his tall pale face and frowning; stomny look did not surprise her; she had even conveyed to Tom, by a few cautious!,words of warning, thab he would do well not to notice his friend just now. "Mean?" she said lightly. "Surely that is very plain! Cannot you see?" Severance again looked across. He had a vague idea that Clare and Lady Heston were .talking with animation, but their figures were only two blurs. Hesaw only Lorraine and Rosenthal; they were remarkably distinct. Her eyes were turned up to his. Surely if she moved her head a little Jier hair must brush 'his face when he stooped so low! See ? Blind fool and dolt that he was, most surely he could see I He looked back at Mrs. Moorfield; Something of 'his habitual resolute composure was within 'his grasp again. "Yes, I suppose it is pretty plain," he said quietly. ''l should have understood. I have noticed Rosenthal's attentions before." His tone was creditably emotionless , and cool for a man whose heart for the first time in his life was showing him of what emotion it was capable. Mrs. Moorfield understanding him far too well to be in the least deceived was clever enough and kind enough to appear completely mistaken. . "Attentions that in this case are obviously .meant seripusly," she said, sinking her voice confidentially, "t nave really had no doubt about that since their introduction. If ihe does not propose to her before they leave town he will follow her to Redbourne, I suppose —but that is a very slight drawback,.and she must marry. Glare is sure to do will lead more or less to their separation—and then, with a hundred a year, no relatives, and no settled home what kind of prospect is their for Lorraine ? " She paused waving her fan, smiling as she watched Win. "It is a splendid match for her I" she added casually.

I "A match?" Severance looked j across again. Contrasted with the full I deeply hued face above her jLorraine's j gra.ve profile shone cold and severe as, j cameo. ."I fail to see the match," he said with satirical* emphasis. "The difference is the more striking." "My dear fellow" —Mrs. Moorfield sometimes spoke playfully to her husband's friend, very ,much as did her husband himself —"surely you are not prejudiced against the poor man on account of his race? Why," that sort of thing is quite out of date nowadays! We are too enlightened." "Are . we? lucluding Miss Latoiiche?".

"Oh, I should think so! She has not the appearance of' objecting to him, has she?" Mrs Moorfield felt that she had pressed in the barb a little too cruelly; she mercifully relaxed the pressure. "You must understand me to say that slio v will take him, richas he is, and though she,candidly says she hates poverty. Indeed, I'feel by no means sure o£ it, I have seen some very ruthless snubs. If there were anybody she cared for, tha.t would ;anr swer the question conclusively. She is a girl; X take it; capable; of doing anything loved. Don't ypu.think so? '"Hush Vf -.Ttie "curtain was upr again, the theatre darkened. This 'tftrie Severance turned his head resolutely towards the stagey he could make ya pretence at least of being interested, but he had rarely : experienced a greater relief in his life than at the final fall of the curtain. He was in a fever to get away, to be alone, to reflect on his own position. . Between the acts bows of recognition had passed between the occupants of Mrs Moorfield's box and Lady,Heston's party, but he had no thought of waiting to catch a last { glimpse of Lorraine. When he saw her, spoke to her, it must be with no third person near. the rustle of the general uprising he bent to Mrs Moorfield's ear.

"Pardon -me if I leave you!" he said. "I—f am not myself to-night; I ■shall be better alone. I will explain another, time if you will release me now." "Very well, you shall go." She gave him her hand ■wit'h a sympathetic smile which was another revelation to his blindness. "When you do come, to explain perhaps you will have some news for me." I

He went out of the box, and Tom, taken leave of with only an abrupt riod, looked at his wife with wonder. She laughed softly.

• "Poor fellow!" she said. "He is desperately in love, and he is not used to it., Fancy a man as clever as nard Severance needing jealousy to open his eyes! "Would you like to see a mortal encounter between him and Mr Rosenthal, dear He lias gone

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERONA, Author of "A More Ceremony."

CHAPTER XIX

away just ready for it!" "Rosenthal?" Tom started. "What do you mean, Lucy? What has Rosenthal to do with Severance? Why he is dead gone on Miss Latouche! You told me so yourself. Besides, anyone can see it." "Exactly. Well?" _ "Well! Severance is sweet on Miss Throckmorton. I've seen it for weeks. Don't think she's a patch on the redhaired one myself, pretty as she is, but everyone to his taste. He's as good as told (me that he's looking after her." Bernard Severance, walking home alone laughed once or twice. His sense of humor, once fairly roused, was keen enough to operate against himself; he felt an intense, bewildered, amusement while ho called himself a triple fool. Was there ever such a staggering change in a man as had taken place m him—Clare's placid suitor yesterday, Loraine's passionate lover to-day? What spell had been upon his eyes, his senses, for all these months? To have seen her, heard her a score of times and remained cold! To have fancied, as he had honestly done yesterday, that the tranquil fondness he felt for Clare was all that he could feel! Clare ? He cared as.much for the winning, pretty, affectionate creature as he had always cared. But for Lor-

"Mad!" he said aloud. "That's the only word for it mad! And then Clare? If I had spoken as I meant to yesterday, and by any chance she had said 'Yes,' what a terrible wrong I should have done her!" "And Lorraine? Did she know? Quieter now, able to think contentedly, he walked on absorbed in that wonder. Was the secret of 'his love, incomprehensively maddeningly hidren from himself, a patent fact to her. He had (noticed her eyes sometimes when they had borne a strange look. . Was that the knowledge that lay in them ? And, if she knew, did she care? If she did not she should. Ice could melt, and so should hers; he had seen glimpses many a time of the fire that lay beneath. He spoke his resolution aloud as he reached his door. "She may say 'No' a dozen times," he said, "but as I live I'll change it to 'Yes'!"

A passing memory of Rosenthal chilled him, but he put it resolutely aside. Mrs Moorfield had obviously meant to torment him. But the thought that his rival might see her again before he did was unendurable. When could he see her? Reflecting, he remembered that Clare had spoken of a dance at a certain Mrs Wilson's to-morrow evening, and that she was pouting because Lorraine had declined to go. Mrs Throckmorton never being visible after eigth o'plock he would most probably, if he went at nine and received him, find her alone. What then. At present he went no (further than that. But he was resolute to make her understand him,, resolute to speak on the first chance that he could make or take.

The clocks were striking nine the next evening when he reached Hill Street. The door of the house was opened as he neared it, and a. man came down the steps. Severance (instantly -recognised the tall, .solid figure and handsome dark face of Rosenthal. He had been beforehand! But that thought brought another before rage could rise. She could not have accented him, or he would not have left her.

Severance went upstairs, alone; he would announce himself to Miss Latouche, he said, checking the servant's movement. He had a longing to catch Lorraine's first look, to see whether with its certain surprise there would be mixed any light of welcome. The door opened quickly to his touch, and L he saw her standing in the centre of the softly lighted room. She started and uttered a little cry at the sight of him. Then her expfessiop changed; and she - came forward quickly. "Mr —you!" she stopped short, both in-speech*and motion.' "I —for a moment in the dim light, I thought-^-" .... "That it was Mr Rosenthal, perhaps?" He took her hand, rejoicing itl the knowledge thathe had never fore seen her falter as she did now. "He is gone; I almost passed him as I came in. You did not expect him back?"

"No, no! Oh, no!" There was vehemence in the negative. "But 1.. did not in the least expect to see you." She drew her hand from his.' "Clare is out; she is at Mrs Wilson's dance." "So you were expecting a solitary eveAing?" he said. "Yes, quite. I had nothing to read i and was too lazy to work." '* J "But you sent Mr Rosenthal away." j

"Mr Rosenthal ?" Her expression changed, 1 sho flushed deeply, blushed as Clare might have done. What had become of the icy composure which had always been her mask? Was the mere .proximity of his unspoken passion, melting it already? ——" Her voice trembled. "You—know why he came?" she asked soft(To be Continued:) •