A DEEP GAME. OR THE HONOUR OF THE TREVELLANS.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10549, 3 February 1912, Page 2

A DEEP GAME. OR THE HONOUR OF THE TREVELLANS.

OUR SERIAL.

By Mrs De Winter Baker, Author of "The Sin of ■**>**>»" " Por

CHAPTER XVl—Continued. "Can't mother? You can't? Why not?" Sir Eric dropped the hand he was stroking and gazed in utter amazement, at the old grey bond. '/Because I—ah, Eric, my son, forgive me—it is so hard to say—because I. don't approve of this match. Lettice Lascelles is not good enough for you, dear. I wanted you to give her up—now." "Mother!"' The word was gasped rather than articulated. Sir Eric rose to his feet and stood over the bent figure of his mother huddled in the high-backed chair. ( With an effort he controlled himself and held back the angry words that rose to his lips.

"I am waiting for an. explanation," he. said in low, emotionless acceati.

"I can say no more, Eric . Lettice Lascelles I do not approve of for my son's wife. I must —must forbid this engagement between you!" \ Slowly, wearily the dowager lpo«.e. The words fell relentlessly from her lips, chilling the heart of the man who, a. few momenta before bad; welcomed with eager joy tihe prospects of reconciliation.

Sternly he folded his arms across his broad chest and beat down the an-g'.-r that fiercely assailed him. "Don't, don't be angry, Eric dear,! with me!" the old lady continued,even more feebly than before, and nervously firgering the stem of a' lamp or. the table by which she sat. "I ought to h.ivt told you before —before you askel Lettice Lascebes to be your wife.But it's not too late now, dear. Breik oil" the engagement. If you can't do it youiself, let me do it for you. I'll ooeak to/her."

'-Sir:Eric bit his lip. and clenched hande tightly. "Was it about Lettice that you. wanted to see me when you sent forme just now?' she asked coldly. Some new thought seemed to have struck him. His slender fingers pulled irritably at his moustache. "Yes, dear!'' "Did you know I had asked her to be .my wife when you sent for me?'! "I~guessed.it-dear." "How ? This is. the first time I have spoken, of her to you. How could you guess I would ask her?" . "Dear, lam your mother. I hare watched you at the fable when you have been in her company. I have .seen it In your eyes. I heard .that you had taken her for a drive this afternoon. I —oh, I was afraid to speak before." "Are you telling me jthei truth,mojth.-« er?/Are you'speabiiig v from your hefut when you say that you do not Approve ~ of Lettice as my wife—the best, the' > the purest, the loveliest jvoman that God ever put on earth ? ijLas j anyone prompted you to forbid tJiis;' engagement? Can you honestly Affirm that it is your own heartfelt wish

that I should beliave like a cad to the 'dear little girl whom I only asked to

be my wife a few hours ago " Silently Lady Trevellan shrank under this torrent of searching, insistent . questions— the very of --jail others that she.mos.'dreaded. Could I she look her son in the face and tell him a foul lie?, ■I Should she not rather raise her eyes to his and .show him the true light, of mother love shining strongly from the depths—shining as it had done in the dear days beyond recall when she had rocked her baby to sleep in her amis, v crooning some sweet old lullaby . in I fond, adoring voice? Should she not %, tell him the truth now? Tell him that

in very truth she welcomed Lettice as "his affianced wife aibove all other women in the world? Tell him that, from .the very bottom of her heart, she rejoiced in and approved of this engagement, i

But again, with aU its remorseless terror, the Trevellan shame swept across her mind—the Trevellan shame of which tier dear son knew nothing, thank God! and yet whose weight he must bear in ignorance even as she .herself bore it in Ml, .and heart-crush-ing knowledge.every hour-of her.tortured, existence. , Alas! there was no way out of it. Unless —unless —should she, could sihe .dare'-to' tell her son? Reveal to him the family skeleton in all its horror — its disgraceful imminent reality ? Surely this was the ought., thing to do —surely tliis was the honest course to take. If the girl-really loved him, she would he ready to help him to 'bear the .burden of the shaune—iaye, to comfort him, to give him the solace he would sp sorely need. Slowly, inch by inch, she raised her nead. Her son Avas gazing ou* of tlio window inito the blackness , beyond, watolunig the flashes of St. Simon's lxrilJiiam/fc light as. they pencilled the saMe sky with thin beams of radiance that was ghostly. "Eric," she said quietly. Her'voice was informed with new purpose. She spoke as one determined on a certain course. The young man turned to face Her. But. she-got no further, for there came a loud rap on the panels of the door. Without further ceremony, Grace Omer entered and bustled across to the dowager. "Time to dress for dinner,my lady,' - * she said meaningly. To herself she added: "Just in time." CHAPTER XVII. MTWJX, ESTRANGEMENT Angrily Sir Eric faced the intruding woman. "My mother and I wish to be alore, Mrs Omer,' ho observed njHJy.

"I'm .sorry, Sir Eric, but it's almost dinner-time as it is. First gong went long ago." Omer grasped the dowager's chair as she spoke, and begun to wheel it toward the inner compartnrj-■■•(•■.

"Stop !" Sir Enic held up his hand, cvd Micro was a fierce light in his eyes. "Have you anything further to say, 'mother? If so, I insist on Omer leaving, us." There was intense silence in the turret room for a'fraction of a second.

"No, dear—I —I f have no—nothing more to say."

Lady Trevellan's reply was hardly audible. Her head was once more sunk low on her .breast, amd her hands were held close to her face to conceal her fast-flowing tears. With a vigorous push Omer now propelled the wheeled chair into the inner apartment and shut the door behind her witfli a-slam. Sir Eric now stamped impatiently out of the chamber. ■ :

Shrugging his shoulders with a gesture of resignation, he descended to has own room to dress for dinner.

The evening meal in Trevellah Castle was a very strained and formal affair that night. There were many very awkward intervals of silence, despite Mark Jason's hiarslh.. garrultiy and air of restlessness. He had slipped into his place at the>last moment, when the other three were settled in their chairs. He had cogent reason, indoedj for this strategic move. ; Lettace, was strangely white and a bit thoughtful.; She replied absently to her loverfsf? few -commonplace rema rEs, relapsing at once into silence and hardly touching ajiy of the dishes handed to her. i Not once did she even deign to look at the talkative chaplain. Not a word of his conversation reached her ears.

'But once, indeed, she (brightened up as Sir Eric, stooping Jo pick up his table napkin, whispered: "Conservatory—rafter wards." Thereafter she was impatient for fihe seemingly endless sequence of courses \o exhaust itself.

; At last dessert was served, and Lady TrevelLain summoned Grace Omer. In silence the old lady was wheeled away, Miark Jason accompanying her attendant closely.

Tdie dhaplain's plans were now 7n cemiplete readiness, and lie had no spoil in the disniing room. Evidently Lettice Iliad not yet told Sir .Eric of'the incident in the oorridor outside her l>edrcom . But of course, she was bound to,do so as soon as she had an opportunity. W3iere|pre it behoved Mark Jasom to avoid Sir Eric's presence very oafr,efuJly N indeed for,some* time to come.': '"■:''.

Without waitiiiig to light up 3iia af-ter-ctinnar ciga,reite, Erie now rose and offered has arm to tihie white-faced girl.' i&derly he stroked her. bare arm and stooped to kiss the fair softness of her unadorned neck. He led her in silence to the conser-ra-tory now, and once again placed her in tlhe cosy chair against the screen. He sat : down beside her.,

"My darling," he begaa a little haltingly, "it'%eeihis a shame to spoil the perfect evening tthat I had been; looking forward to in your company, but there is something I .must tell you. Not that- it makes the slightest bit of difference-to me —mor is it likely to- — but it's only fair that you shotild know that —tliat my mother objects to our engagement." Lettice went whiter thaai ever —she grasped the arms of the chair. "Ah, dear, don't be frightened!" Ho seized one of her small hands and pressed it fervently. "There's nothing to be alarmed at. My mother's objection does not affect me'in the slightest. I have asked you to marry me because Hove you, srvv;eetllieai-t, and I to marry you as soon as'ever you will let me." "Deatr boy, I know —I know!" Lettice returned tllie pressure of his hand. 'But why—winy "does Lady T'revellan object?" "1 don't know darling; and I really can't be lx>tiliered to find out. I had hoped, indeed, that my engagement; to you would pave the way to a reconciliation .between my mother and myself well, not. exactly'a reconciliation, but .a better understanding. You know what I mean.dear. But it seems that it is not to be so, and —well, our estrangement is now definite and final, of course," The young man spoke bitterly. There was no tinge of regret in his voice. , "Oh, Eric, how dreadful. To tiling that lam the cause of all this! Can't I go to her, and plead on your behalf as well as mine? Perhaps.rihe doesn't } believe that I love you darling;' per- ' haps she.doesn't think tihat I".*m t'.ood I enough to be her son's wife 1 Oh! how can: I show her, how oan I make lier believe!" There were sobs hi the. young girl's voice—glistening teardrops hung on her long, silken lashes. "Hush, my own girlie, hush ; believe me, there is nothing to worry about. I wouldn't have you go to my mother fov worlds risk snubs and angry { words from her. She has proved be- ! yoind redemption that she doesn't; care a fig about me and my welfare. I have you and your sweet love, what more can 1 possibly want? Dry your ejes. deaa- —there let me dry them for you —let nie kiss away those tears ioo,' : (To be Continued.)