TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10438, 2 October 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

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

CHAPTER XXll—Continued

"Yes, very. 1 told you so - called when you'd hardy got over that horrid fainting fit, but ho scarcely scorned to believe mo when I told him you were ill—looked as if 3io thought J. was telling a story. And lie was not a bit like himself somehow." "How was he—different?" "How? Oh, I'm sure I can hardly tell, dear!" Glare had picked up Ivr sunshade and was -tossing it lightly from one hand to the other. "So abrupt and brusque somehow, and looked at mo as fiercely as though he would liavo liked to box my ears. Perhaps he is offended because you did not see him the next day to say good-by. He may have been, for ho didn't stay five mi-iutes, and never ev?n said he was sorry you were ill. I remember wondering what he had done with his man-

ners." "I could not see him, Clare." "Certainly not, dearest! I told him that you were dreadfully weak from your faint the day before, and that I didn't mean to let you come downstairs until we wero ready to start for the station. But even if he was out of humour he ought to have got over it in three weeks. I'vo a good mind to write to him presently and ask him which of us it is that he's kind enough to sulk about." "No, no! Don't do that, Clare." "Don't ask him how he dares to sulk about you?" A sudden thought made Clare's pretty,brows rise. "No, certainly not, dear!" she said soothingly. "I was only joking. But i 3hall 'write and ask him what he means- by heing rude to me. What is the use of a cousin if you can't scold liiin when he neglects you. And [ shall .tell hdm. that if he desires to retrieve his character he will come and spend the end of the week with us. I shall go for a. stroll now, but 1 don't think you had better come, dear. You will be cooler where you are." She glanced over her shoulder with a little, nod and laugh as- she I stepped into the sunshine. "Who I knows? -Perhaps I shall meet somei body."

Lorraine did not answer; sue did not even look after Glare as the girl sauntered away. She rose to her feet stiffly, her eyes dilated with ia sort of terrified appeal. "Not that." she said in a broken whisper. "No, not that! He will never come>! To liave his letters, to send them (back unopened, not even to read them! That has nearly killed me. But to see him! I'm weaker than I wias l —weaker by three weeks of torture. I might break down. He nuiist be too angry. It is a week since liislast letter. No, no, he will not come! I'm. safe from that. Anci Clare, she wonders what keeps him away I" Clare might witli reason wonder, fo" she had seen and known nothing of the tliree letters, which, since their return to Bedbourne, Severance had addressed to her foster -sister; they had been kept secret from her. And over tHiem Lorraine had wept blindly, pressing wild kisses and earesses upon the envelopes, 'but she had

hoed vaguely. "Why, yes. He is big enough to see, isn't he, dear? We ought not to have rousied her up so suddenly, Harry. She thinks she is in a dream."

"Hurry?" said Lorraine. "Oh, it i-3 Mr Seton."

"Meet somebody?" Lorraine ec-

Fully awake now, and recognising the stalwart young figure and handsome honest, stun-burned face, she gave him her hand with a. smile.

"Why,' this is a .surprise!" she said. "I—l thought you were in Scotland with your father and the girls?"

"So I wiasi until last night, Miss Lotouehe. I oaime hy the mail." He laughed happily. "You may be sur», I cam© by the first train. I could, and the .fastest one. too." "Because I wrote to him, you see, dear," .said Glare. She liiad risen now; onoe more her cheeks w,ex& as red as the carnations an her belt; aod Hairy'® .blue eyes were radiant ia.si he stood at her side.

I "You—you w/rote to him?" Lorraine said stupidly. I "Yes, dear." Clare's lips twitched into a lialfnshy, half-mischievous smile. "It was only a veiry little bit : of ia letter, though." "But it was enough." Harry cried impetuously. "When, she wrote to me saying that if I would come home she might, have .something to say to me that I ishbuld like to hear, I knew ' i very weE that she could only mean one thing, though it seemed too good to ibe time. But it is true, and she does mean it. Look, you see she does." He laughed joyously again. He was so happy and exultant that he took 'Clare's hand and kissed it. Lorraine staggered and sank into her seat again. Clare sprang forward with. a. scared cry. I "Ob, Harry, we luave startled her ■ too mnch! I told you islie was ill. : Leave tis to ourselves for a. little while. I'M come directly. Lorraine, forgive me, dearest. How stupid, liow iselikhi, how thoughtless I am!" Lorraine's head had back upon Glare's shouldeir; her eyesi had closed, hut only for a. moment. They 'opened again, large and wild, as she struggled to sit erect, putting her hand to her forehead. "I—l don't understand," she said in a< faint, (bewildered wiay. "Everything is wrong—confused. It was Harry Seton who was here ? Yes, itwas. And life said—"

"He didn't say very much, dear; you scared us hy turning so white'.'' Clare answered caressingly. "If you ask what meant to say—well, I ■think ,you can gaies®, can't you?" "Did lie slay," Lorraine asked slowly, "that you had promised to marry him?"

not opened one. They had .been sent ■back one after tine other, she feeling that the return, of each was a stah in her heart. Only with the last had she desperately nerved herself to send a, word to him. "Oh, don't write to me!" she had written across it. "I daren't i-ead your letters!" And sine© then no letters! had come. She sank back into the chair again inertly. Though she. .maintained that she was not all, slue, knew that her strength and energy were* deserting her day by day. 'Not even her superb Jnealth and vitality had Iheen 1 able to resist the strain of the last

three weeks. Her eyes closed with a ! heavy sigh. Perhaps she. could sleep I she thought dully; it was so cool and quiet and shadowy. She would try to forget everything till Clare came .back. Her weariness conquered, and she slept dreamlei&sly and sound-

'.'He didn't isia.y bo, darling, but he meant it. I ha.ve promised." "To ibe Harry'si wife?" "Yes, dear." "You can care for luim—-be liappy with him?"

"Gill, yes, dear, I know I can! I am vtory happy. And Ido car© for liim very iroiuch.. If I had not felt ithaifc I 'did I should not have written for liim to come."

She hesitated, 'and stooped to kiss the cold hands she was* clasping. "Oih, I know wbait you sane thinking, Lorraine! Yon are wondering—yoi lare a-erniemibeiriing Derek. I should have told you about Barry this afternoon but that, you had jnsit heen speaking of Derek, aaul it. made me feeJi bashful and awkward.- I kr.ew you thought ! was. still grieving for him and expecting him/." Shie hesitated again. "I—l think I was va-ysilly, you know!" I (To be Continued.)

A caressing touch on lier hair, a soft kiss on her forehead, and a soft latigh in her ear aroused her. Clare! She wias/ aware of that eveai before, with a< start, she opened her eyes and saw the. Jbrighit face smiling into her own. Oare was on her knees at her side, hut whos-e was that figure behind hers? Uncertain, scarcely awake yet, Lorraine' stared over the pretty head. With anotlier tremulous little laugh, Clare kissed her again. "How confused you look, darling! It was too bad to awaken you, but T couldn't help it, really I felt I must." She glanced over her shoulder. "I—l did meet somebody, you see."