TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10441, 5 October 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAFFER XXlV—Continued

But for the flickering shadows cf the loaves he would have boon quick to see how.she changed colour. Bevond that one mention to Clare yesierdav, to which alio had desperately norvod herself, as she thought for Clare's sake, she had not once spoken the name of Derek Wilioughby *nco that dav in Hill Street when he had confounded her by the avowal of Ims unsuspected, hateful love. "But you used to stay," she said, "while he was abroad." "As Mrs. Throckmorton's guest. Quito true; sol did. I am her guest now, but this is his house.; and I can t pretend that my feeling toward him is as cordial as it was I knew less 0 f him. He would say the same thing of me, I have no doubt." "Yon have not quarrelled?" she asked quickly. t "Not in the least. I have .scarcely seen him for weeks. But I fancy we mutually understand that there is no love, lost between us. He is not a favourite of yours, you know." "Oh, no! Oh, no!" "You are very strong in your disi like?, sweetheart!" "And in my love," she whispered. "Shall vou tell him?"

"No. Why should I? I don't see that ho has the slightest claim on my confidence or yours. You don't wish him to be told?" "No. He may go abroad again perhaps. He is not likely to come to Redbournc; he never cared for it, and I nope he will not come." She spoke quietly, but she could almost have cried out the words as a

prayer. "If you do go back to town," she added, "it will not be to stay? Promise me that!"

"Promise you?" he laughed. "It j will be to stay precisely until to-mor-row morning. Then I have arranged to keep Harry company at the Moat until his people come back." "Have you? Oh, that's delightful! Better than having you in the house I think. I shall have .the pleasure of sending you away and expecting you back again. Harry is a dear boy—lie and Clare must have concocted that little scheme between them." Her colour had returned now ; her eyes and voice brightened witli it j she lightly turned to put her hands on his shoulders. ".Now, what- shall we do with ourselves this afternoon? I don't feel inclined for another walk—it is too warm. And, besides, Mr. Bethell is coming."

"I did not know. What brings the old gentleman? Business?" . "Business? When I Want any law you are my lawyer. No, I sent him a little note last night and told him you were here. I knew he would like to see you; and you like to see 'him, don't you?" •'Certainly, although I could have contrived to dispence with him to-day. I used to think I liked you best without colour, Lorraine, but that was before I had seen these two scarlet roses. What shall we do? Suppose you stand still just as you are and let me look at you?"

' 'lndeed you slia 11 not!" She 1 a ughed and drew away from him. "Clare asked me in confidence.Hast night if I didn't think you were even more absurd than Harry. She (evidently liad hei' opinion, and presently I shall have mine. Now, what shall we do? You forget that I have got to learn how to amuse you, and that I'm quite a novice in tlie art. I want to practice while I can. Lot me seel" Standing in the 'ball, she looked about her thoughtfully. "Why, you have never been over Redbourne yet, have you?"

"The whole of the house? Not a quarter of it. Are you going to introduce me to the family ghost?"

"Hhere isn't one. Have you ever seen the picture gallery?"

"I -aiever knew there was one to see." "It is not only to he seen, but remembered. With the exception of two or three family portraits, I should say it contained about the most amazingly bad collection of paintings that one is likely to see in a lifetime. lam not a judge of art but they amuse me. You have heard of Sir Bernard's father, Sir Thomas, haven't you?" "I know that he existed. Was he responsible for tlie monstrosities?" * "Yes, he wias an amateur artist and collector—very amateur! I should say that his enthusiasm for pictures was only equalled by his utter ignorance of them. At any rate, he crowded this unfortunate gallery with the most

(OUR NEW SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERDNA,

Author of "A Mere Ceremony."

extraordinary nightmares. As studi ies of form and color gone crazy they j are' amusing. And I want to amuse l you. Shall we look at the pictures?" I Severanco acquiesced promptly. [ Where was tins remarkable gallery? ! ho asked as they left the hall together.

Right at the opjwsite end of the house she answered; the row of windows that lighted it, opened upon the terrace that ran ailong the western side. She did not think that anyone had entered it since Sir Bernard had died, she added, speaking in the lowerod tone- that seemed natural as they made their way through the partial darkness of the great place. But the key was in the door, and they could open the shutters —a little light and air would do the poor pictures good. And so presently she stopped before a door and drew farther back the dark curtain that screened it.

"This is only a sort of ante-room,'' she said. "Tho gallery is entered through it. The door is locked, I suppose. No, it i;-. not even shut!" She looked surprised, for tho door had swung open to a touch of her hand. Entering the small room, .she stopped short, for tho door at the farther side was half open too. Before she could speak Severance's quick ear had caught the sound of voices in the picture gallery, and his hand, touching her lips, stopped her. "Somebody's there!" he whispered.

"So there is! How strange! Who can it be?". She softly advanced a little, inclining her head to listen. "Mrs Vassell!" she said. "What can she bo doing here?"—in an astonished tone.

"Is it she? Are you sure?" "Yes, I know her voice as well as I do yours. And I seem to know the other. One of the servants, I suppose. But why should thoy bo here, and whispering so mysteriously. Alethea! You!"

Lorraine had made a quick movement toward the door, 'but stopped in sheer surprise before she reached it. Her dress had mado a sharp rustle, thero had been a startled exclamation from behind the door, and it was flung wide open, revealing the two whisperers —Mrs Vaisoll certainly, and, no less certainly, Clare's maid, Alethea Ventry! "Alethea!" Lorraine repeated wonderingly. She stared at the girl's pale face and bright oyes with such, bewildered surprise that she was hardly aware of the housekeeper beside her or realised that she had plainly been crying. "How is it that you are here, and with-Mrs Vassell, too?" The girl did not reply; she looked at the elder woman; there was a flippant, indifferent look in her manner and aspect. Severance, who had seen' her often in Hill Street, and now recognised her at once, interposed sharply. "You heard Miss Latouche's question," he said. "It is one which she naturally puts to you in the cirdxijn- | stances. Be kind enough to answer ifc -" • «■ "I don't object to answering Miss Latouohe, sir. I was surprised, that iis all; although, since I've been found here, I'm glad it's by you and her. Personally, I don't mind you both knowing what brought me here. I'm past minding that. And she knows a good deal now, or-will in a moment." Her manner was still curiously balanced between emotion and defiance, but it was not rude. She looked at Mrs Vassell, whispered to her, and turned hack once more to Lorraine. "You'll understand it all in a sentence, miss," she said quietly. "I've no right to the name of Alethea Ventry. lam Rose Lamont." "You are Rose Lamont!" cried Lorraine "You are Mrs Vassell's daughter?" "Yes, miss." She .moved her shoulders with a. gesture of half-dog-ged resignation. "I am Mrs Vassell's daughter." ;. The housekeeper, with a sobbing cry, sank into a chair, and hid her face in her hands. "Oh, Rose, you need not have told them, tnv dear!" she wailed. "You need not have said it for your;own sake." - " „ „ "It can't much matter, mother, the daught-er answered quietly "It won't make it better or worse for either of us. It can't make any difference if Mr Severance knows what Miss Lorraine has known for over a; year. I haven't done any harm to her or Miss Throckmorton, even, if I did call mvself by a false name." She looked at Severance. "You never knew my mother had a daughter, sir. I* dare say you won't find it difficult to guess why nobody knew it. My father left her with enough money to'keep herself and me from starving if she had liked to use it for that. But she wouldn't after I was ten years old; she preferred to spend it in keeping me at almost as'good a school as it 1 had been born a lady. She had earned her own living and called herself a widow for a good many years when she came to Redboume. She has been a good mother to me." (To be Continued.)