TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10439, 3 October 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER XXll— Continued

I "Silly?" Lorraino echoed. I "Yes about Derek. I was very ' fond oT him Harry knows I was—

and I should have l)cen fond of him now if he had treated me pronerly. I began to think about it when he made me so angry in London, and I have thought about it more since we came down here. In all the time that he made love to me he never once asked mo to marry him ; ho just flirted with me to amuse himself. He may marry Mrs. Do Blanquiere if he likes. And 1 suppose he will. She will flirt just as much as ever he can, and more!" She paused again. "You told me before Sir Bernard died that Derek was not worth caring for, and it made me so angry. Don't you remember, dear?"

"Yes, I remember," Lorraine answered. The stupified bewilderment was dying out of her eyes now. "I thought," she said faintly, "it would

spoil your life, break your heart, if you were not his wife." "I know you~ thought so, dear. T thought so myself, I-suppose." 01 are gave a little shrug of deorecation. " I was very foolish. I don't want to he reminded of it any more." She rose, her face clouded with a look of reproachful questioning and wonder. "Surely you are pleased, Lorraine? You were always so fond of Harry, and you scolded me when I first said 'No' to him . You are glad, aren't you?" "Yes, yes, my darling, I am glad!" Lorraine's arms were about her "Harry loves you, and there is nothing in the world I hope or Live for hut to see you happy. Whatever comes, whatever .happens tome, I can never be quite wretched while I know you are happy. She kissed Clare fervently and pushed her away. "I will come presently," she said. Go to Harry now —he will be waiting for you."

Clare went obediently. Standing still where she was, Lorraine present-

ly saw her crossing the grass towaild the house at Harry's side, his fair head bent down to hers and her,hands clasped upon his arm. A strange smile parted her lips.

"That is the endl" she said. "She can be happy with Harry Seton. She can change and forget. She can care no longer for Derek Willoughiby. And I believed that to lose him would kill her!"

'; Her head fell forward on hei\ hands with a moan, and so remained. She sat seeing and hearing nothing. A vague impression which grew upon her after a long interval of someone appfoaching her over the grass did not make her stir. The old dog at her side rose with a warning growl that changed into a hoarse bark of welcome. Then with a shiver she raised her head and saw just beyond the shadow of the trees Severance looking at hej.

CHAPTER XXIII

Lorraine did not rise from her chair; with a gesture of his hand Severance checked the first involuntary movement. No words of conventional greeting passed between them; they looked silently each at tfhe other. Had he but spoken 'her name and held out his arms to her she felt that she must have thrown herself into them, desperately forgetful of everything but her love and his pain. Still looking at her, he advanced a little and spoke. "I can almost forgive what youVo made me suffer," he said, "how that I see you. If you have put me through torture, you have felt something of .'t, too. I'm a brute, I suppose, to get some kind of comfort out of that.

I Have you any idea, I wonder, what I have undergone since I saw you last?" i She did not answer, but shrank away, putting up her hands as though / each word were a separate blow. Tenderness and pleading would have beeu less terrible to her than this. His

voice grew sterner. , "¥ou have refused to see hie/' oe said. "Why?" "I said I should refuse," she answered faintly. "You have sent back my letters unopened?" "I did not dare to read them. i told you so." "You tlhought t'hat that would Ije the end of it, I suppose? You thought you would see and hear no more of me?"

r .->OR NEW SERIAL.)

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

| "T did not know." i "You did not think I should come?" J "I thought you would have been too j angry to come." "And you would not have relented? You would not have sent for me?" "No, I should not." Hor head sank back witih the words. He made a swift gesture toward hor. checked it, and remained where lie was. "I suppose you know," he ' Paid quietly, "that you are spoiling my life? I tell you plainly that if ever a woman ruined all that is worth anything in a man you will ruin it in me."

"No. no!" Her voice was wild; she stretched out her hands imploringly. -"Don't say that!" "I say it that yon might fully realise what you are doing. There is hardly a crueller wrong which can. he ,inflicted upon a man than the wrong which you are deliberately inflicting upon me." , "No, no! JJb, no!"

"There can be no adequate reasin for your refusing to be my wife. You own that you love me—you deny that *here is or has been any other man. It cannot be because you will not leave Clare?" He paused, and she made a faint negative movement. "I have distracted myself with wonder and conjecture, and I can think of but oro possible reason for this mad resolve of yours. I should be utterly ashamed to mention it or to think it, but I know women are morbid sometimes. ■ You told me once that your parents, your connections were all poor people. I thought you seemed sensitive about J that. Remember that you have drivj en me to the question in sheer despair •of finding a solution. Is that the ob- , ject you are placing in our way? In the name of Heaven, Lorraine, are you blighting your life and mine for such a thing as that?" She had risen now with one quick, ? sharp movement, and was standing by \ her chair.

"I should not be a fit wife for you/' 5 slhe said. "That is reason enough." "Do you mean that you are putting that straw between us?" ,he cried. "It does not matter. I can't marry you." "You refuse again, then. You mean that?" "Yes." "If you send me from you now I shall not come back. You understand that?"

"Yes, I understand." He caught her hands and turned her round so that she faced him. "Look at me," he said determinedly, "and listen lAt any.rate you shall understand what you aVe doing, Lorraine. I have told you that you are.spoiling my life—l tell you so again. I never knew what tOie love of a woman could mean to a man until I loved you. You might be my best blessing if you would; you are making yourself my curse. You elect virtually to kill yourself, kill me, and for what? You rob and wrong me, you rob and wrong yourself." She glanced about her distractedly. "Oh," she cried, "what shall I do?"

"What shall you do?" She tottered and he caught heiyjialf swooning, and the faint demur she struggled to utter died under his kiss. "Come to me, my sweet, and let this wretched folly go. Fate is too strong for you."

She did, not struggle; there was no further strength for resistance in her. The hand which had lain upon, his shoulder clung to his neck, He placed her gently in her chair, taking another at her side, and her head drop, ped against him as she nestled into the circle of his arm. He put his hand under her chin presently and turned flier face up to his own. (To be Continued.)