TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10442, 6 October 1911, Page 2

TO THE UTTERMOST FARTHING.

CHAPTER XXlV—Continued

She put out her hand and gtntly touched the gray head that was bowed beside her.

"I meant to be a good daughter to her, Mr. Severance —I knew that she had suffered —and I was so till I was eighteen, and ithat is nearly ten years ago. She got me a place in the showroom of one of the big West End shops then ; but I could dance and sing very well, and I was mad to go on the stage. She gave in after a year or and I got on pretty well. It wasn't quite what' I. h.\d fancied, but I liked tho life, and I kept straight enough to satisfy even her." She paused; her dull complexion turned fiery scarlet; iiei voice burdened harshly. "You'll wonder how it was, pehraps, that she came to tell Miss Lorraine about me a year ago, when she had never mentioned me before to a single person here. She wouldn't have done.it hut for being half distracted and Miss Lorraine wanting to know what troubled her. She ought to have expected it I suppose, poor thing! It was only that Sir Derek Willoughby had treated me as my father had treated her before'l was .born. But I believed him when he promised to marry.me, Miss Lorraine! And there is my little girl!" She burst into teal's, sobbing with a vehemence that drowned her mother's moan. Lorraine's white face wore bewildered horror. Severance could read its expression.; he saw that she had never understood the worst, had never realised until now that the ruin of this girl lay at the door of Sir Derek Willoughby* He broke the silence presently The story* had not surprised him; he remembered young Seton's confidence, and had been quick to see what' was coming. "He deserted you?" he asked gently. ' "Yes, sir, once in Hill Street, the last day I was there." The girl had dried her eyes and conquered her tears; she was now speaking quietly. "I had tried to see him several times before.but could never manage it. I've got letters in which 'he promises to •marry me, and I wanted to tell him that I'd force him to if I could. Why should I be> ruined and he go scot free?" Her voice broke in to a harsh sob again. "And, after all, I'm fond of him! I've never cared for anyone else."

' "Did you tell him?" asked Lorraine. It was tUie first time she had spoken since her crying out of Rose Lamont's name.

"Yes. Miss. You saw me coming out of the drawing room, you recollect, arid wondered why I was there. He managed to quiet me —he always could when he liked. He declared that he would keep his word to me if I would bo sensible and wait, and that he was as fond of me as ever. It was a lie, for I have never seen or heard of 'him since, although I left the house as he told me I must, and, went where he knew how to find me well enough. I've written to him <a dozen times and never got an answer; I've been to his rooms and never been able to see him. .He just wanted to get me out of the way for some reason of his own, I suppose," she said, witih dreary resignation. ''He said I must be downright mad to go and get myself into the same house with you and Mijjs iHe was very angry, and hardly believed me when I declared I'd never told either of you a word, which you know was' true enough. I came down here because I was tired out with waiting, arid thought he might be expected. For I will see him and make him answer, good or bad, what hj« means to do. I didn't mean to let anyone know about my coining, for mother's sa,ke, but it don't make much difference that I I can see."

"You have my sympathy as well as Miss Latouche's,'' Severance said •kindly, "and I heartily .wish that it lay in my power to offer you more. But I can't turn a scamp into an honest man, unfortunately; and if, as you say, Sir Derek promised to marry you, I fear it is the last thing he has the intention of doing." He paused, and spoke "in response ito a rapid whisper from Lorraine. ."What induced you to go to Hill Street as Miss Throckmorton's maid?.- Surely that was a strange thing to do?" t "I know it was, sir, and I ought not to have gone. But I had heard it said that he was courting Miss Throckmorton and meant to marry 'her. I never liad seen lier, and wanted to know what she was like. When I saw her advertisement a day or two after, it seemed to give me a chance, and I took it. A friend of mine on the stage answered Miss Latouche's letter. It was very wrong, but I thought I should hate Miss Throckmorton. I did >at first when I saw how pretty she was, but I couldn't afterwards. I never had so much as a cross word with her. It made me wild for her sake that she should be so fond of Urim and he not care a straw." .

"Ah!" Struck by a sudden thought as he started, Severance, looked at her keenly.. "It was you," he said, "who wrote that letter ix> Miss Throckmorton warning iher against Sir Derek?" The housekeeper slowly raised her head, showing her tear-stained faqe. "No,'sir," she said quietly, *"I wrote that letter to Miss Clare," "Ah!" Severance's eyes were upon her ,hoAV ias keenly as they had been upon iher daughter. His thoughts were busy. "You were in town that day," he said. "I saw you." "Yes, sir; I saw you and was very much startled. I had come up to see Rose; I had only just heard from her

(OUR NEW. SERIAL.)

By CARL SWERDNA,

Author of "A Mere Ceremony."

that she was in Hill Street. I was very so rr y when she to]d me Miss Clare. It was quite as much for her sake as for my girl's that I wrote the letter. I knew that if Sir Derek did marry her, it would be a hard thing for her. She was always proud although she is such a dear young lady. I thought a word might stop her. That's all."

Mrs vassell had risen, and stood holding to the chair on which she had sat Severance did not withdraw his look, although he saw her shrink under it.

iVot quite all, I think?" he said That was not the first anonymous letter you had written, Mrs Vassell?" The woman gave a violent start and cowered into her chair again. Her daughter touched her shoulder. "Tell him mother," she said. "You meant well, and you didn't do any harm. You might just as well confess that you wrote that other letter.'' A frightened sob was the housekeeper's only reply; she did not raise ner looked at. Rose. "I understand," he said, "that your mother wrote that letter warning me to be careful of Sir Bernard's wilL 1 have long suspected her of doing so! But why did she write it? . That is what has always puzzled me." "She was afraid that I might try to steal tho will, sir," said Rose. ■Lorraine uttered a cry: the hands with which she clasped her lover's arm fell stiffly down. He gently seated her in a chair, still keeping hold of her hand. ■ "You?" he said.

"Yes, sir. It was a foolish sort of thought to get. I never knew she had had it until to-day, when she told me about it and the letter, too. But dhe had some reason for it, and it was my fault. Sir Derek was making Sir Bernard's cutting Ihim off with nothing his excuse for not keeping his word, to me, and I half believed him. I didn't know him as well as I do now. I wrote to mother that I would burn tho will if I once got a. chance of putting my hands on it. That frightened her, and so she wrote the letter to warn you."

She paused with a bitter laugh. "She didn't want' the will stolen, Mr Severance, you may be sure; she was clad enough when she heard that it was made, for she hates Sir Derek because of me. She no more believes that he means to do me justice than you believe it. I did not know what she'd been tormenting herself over until to-day, or I'd have satisfied her that I had never been, near your clijambers in my life and know * no more about the will tn>an she does. I don't say T wouldn't have taken it, though, if I'd had the opportunity. I was telling her so when we heard you and Miss Lorraine just now."

She paused again,, and, stooping, put Iher arm about heij mother's shoulders gently enough, assisting her to rise. "Come, mother, we had better go into your room; you are too upset to stay here. I told you there was no sense in your being no secret over me. I've done no good by coming, it seems, beyond upsetting you, for Sir Derek isn't here, nor likely to be. Thank you, Mr Severance, thank you., ; Miss Lorraine—you are both kind. I've told you all that there is any need to tell. I'll go now, plea?e. Come mother!" As they disappeared Lorraine sprang up and. hurried through the second door into the picture gallery. One of its long windows had been unshuttered and opened, and Sevearnee, quickly following her, found her leaning against the casement, her face deathly white. "Dearest, this miserable business has upset you! I wish yqu had not heard it." ,

"It is nothing—l wanted air—l shalljbe all right in a moment." She put her band on his shoulder with an entreating gesiture. ' "You are not angry with me, Bernai-d, are you?" "Angry?" "I knew this unhappy story, and never told it you." "My- dearest, what cjaim had I to know it—a story of another .person's trouble confided to you ? Naturally you would notspeak^ofit."

But his tone and face hardened even wWle he kissedher.

"Defek Willoughiby is on excellent specimen of a scoundrel, it seems," he said. "To interview him with . a horsewhip would give me as much, pleasure as anything I can think of just now!" He hesitated, caressing her hair,. scarcely knowing how to best phrase his question. "But you; love, hardly knew the worst of it, I .think?" "Oh, no!" Her face was hidden' against him; he felt her shudder. "I never realised how wicked it had been until to-day. If I had only known—if I had only guessed! Oh, my Clare!" "As for the girl herself," Severance said presently, "she seems straightforward and cooj, but I must confess that she has set me wondering." "Wondering?" Lorraine echoed quickly. "Wondering what?"