AFTER RELEASE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10603, 9 April 1912, Page 2

AFTER RELEASE.

OUR BERI.M..

By VIOLET M. FLINN, Author of "The Master Passion, "What Shall It ProßtP" "Ve«m~." "By Devious Paths," Etc.

CHAPTER XVll—Continued. His natural buoyancy was in no way diminished. "I knew I sliould have food and .warmth with you,dear boy," lie said "and the poor wretch had scarcely anything on." He held his 'blue hands out to the fire. "What is this I hear of a claimant to your dukedom?" "[ don't think it has gone so far as that, yet. At any rate, I was born a country squire." "Yes, I know all about that. But your mantle fits you well, dear boy. '[ confeeo that i for one should notlike to see it taken from your shoulders." Tli-o real affection in his tones sent a warm glow tshrough Ludworth's heart. He had jested of his .preference for being just Jack Marcham, but now ho realised with concern what the change* would mean. There are very few men who can, whole-hearted-ly and sincerely, obey the injunction: "Friend, go down lower!' ' He put his arm within V.C.'s shabby sergecovered one. "I am afraid I have been a slacker, but all the same I havo tried not to be a discredit," he said. "Now come along to supper. You must be famished, old man." V.C. was undoubtedly very hungty; lie confessed that a couple of sandwiches and a cup of milk had formed his staple neal that day. He was a man who, while he could live cheerfully on a crusr, yet appreciated the liner elements of food and the dainty table appointments; the quick, noiseless service, the beauty of the dishes appealed more strongly to him than the food itself. When coffee came and cigars were put upon th table he heaved a sigh, half comic, half real. "I havo fared sumptuously; and my body and eyes are alike satisfied. Ludworth, my dear boy, my naturel instincts are thos'of >a Sybarite. 'Tis as well I-.don't ofteii come west. Well, there is a time to work and a time to play, and f would not have appreciated that salmi of pheasant as it deserved if my appetite had. not ibeen whetted by porridge and bread." They went back to the library, and he sank into an easy armchair with another appreciative sigh. This was an interlude in his life's work, and he got all the pleasure he could out of it. His gaze wandered over the well-filled bookcase with gleams and glints of colour coming out of the long brown rows. There was a grand piano open at no end of the room, with a pile of musio beside it. The pictures were few and well chosen, but the whole room gave him the impression of belonging to a worker rather than to the idle man of leisure that Ludworth was supposed to be. He took lip a book that lay .open at his elbow, and his brows raised imperceptibly. Ludworth had a racing stable, and had likewise ibeen mentioned as a probable candidate for the American Cup yacht race, yet he read philosophical essays and was also deeply interested in .t-ho .progress of St. Clement's Choral Society. His gaze went to the young man Jlirasolf. Ho was standing under one of the e':^' fltierS ' lo #!*U fc a ho had picked up. He wa-s a abb man, and in his evening dress it could ouiiy be said ho looked a, gentleman, and yet there was not, after all, far more character iuul i strength in his face than he—V.C.— had ever surmised. He had the feeling that in these last few months Ludworth had developed amazingly in ways that would never be suspected. "I did not know that you were a i elisciple of .Schwartz," lie said, as Lud- | worth dropped the pa/per and .'felt for j his cigarette case. "Ho turned to the flyleaf as he .spoke and to his surprise saw the name 'Eldyth Grainger' on it. Luchvorth was selecting a cigarette and did not look up. "I don't know much about him," he said simply. "That is the-first of his ibooks- jtlmt 1 have read; Miss Grainger is one of his disciples, and .she lent me that book." \ The 'franknes of the admission could not he gainsaid. V.C. repaced the volume o;i tbo stand, and his brow be--gaii to puefecr a little. "Eldyth raadii too much vf- this school of philosophy. It makes her morbid.' At one time .she seemed saturated with Omar's self-indulgence, but I think, T hope, she looks upon life more sanely than she did.' •' He felt a little admonishing prick of conscience as he spoke. Undoubtedly Eldyth's outlook had broadened and become more normal of late, hut how much was that due to the influence.he felt it was his duty to endeavour to remove? V.C. was a very honest man, even to his own disadvantage, and he could not blind himscf to the fact that the influence of Ludworth on Eldyth and the influence of Edyth upon Ludworth, had been beneficial to both. If things had been different ! He pulled himself up. It was no part of his mission to dwell vron what might have been. He had to consider what was. .

"I told you I wanted to have a little talk with you, clear hoy," lie said, plunging at once into the subject. "I don't know whether you have any suspicion oi' what I am g.~ ; ng to Kay, but I do want to say first that ]>mea» nothing as aTetiection upon yoursof. I think you are an honest gentleman. K I did not think so I would nob.bo here now." Ludworth had dropped into a chair. The light sho-ie full on his smooth, fair head, th»-- r'rank, honest face, tin* eye*; tint were as sfcv ,vavtl and

j riear a child's. V.C. had nnlo ot. j mistake, h was llio face anri ex;>r<«.sion of a clean-minded, self-respecting | gentleman. i "I think I can g' ess your object." | he said, "buo J'd n ther yod .say a outright." "I want you to give up your friendship with Eldyth Grainger," V'.C. :n----swered with the same quietness. "Why?' The tone was as quiet as"'before, but a little hint of the Marcham obstinacy showed itself in tlio square chin. "Because I think it is the greatest kindness you can do her, and—because she hersef has asked me to tell yen something. I don't believe for a moment, Ludworth, that yon have ::ny feeling for —that doesn't do you *jkl her credit, but there cannot be friendship between two who are situ at id as you two are without someone ; aying for it —heavily, too —and it !s generally the woman who pays the most. You have had nothing.but .kin Iness in all your acquaintance-with" her You have recognised that she is out of her .-phere, and have tried to composite ! er for what she has lost through no f'lult of her own, poor child' Hut it dcc&n't do, Jick, it-doesn't d:>! You are only, .making it harder for her to live" in grayness when sh-> had peeps of colour." .'' "Did she ask you to say this to me?'.'. Ludw<rth asked, as Ins coke 1 steadily at the visitor. "She did and she did not. T confess T saw no great danger in your friendship so long as it was confined to the choral society. Louisa has lean aneasv for some time. And then " V.C. looked tactfully into the bowl of nis pipe—"l passed you and her in Kensington Park the other day. :\either of you saw or heard me speak. Jack dear lad, don't- think me a meddler or a prude, but folks have come ve.'y j near to each other when they can walk in silence and yet never, see an-old friend- when he meets them face to face, -'They'may bo quite, unconscious of danger, but it is there all the same, and Eldyth is, I think, recognising it, too." . • "Did you .speak to her about it?" Ludworth asked, with a sudden blaze of anger. j V.C.'s eyes Avero very compassionate. "It was she who came to me. It was not easy for her, poor child! Sinsaid she thought it was only light to let you know about herself, Mid she asked me to tell ''you-. She is not ; a.i other girls,, Ludworth. All her-'life she must bear the penalty of other people's sins. She —she is called Eldyth Grainger. She was .given hor mother's surname," He paused, and for a short while Ludworth was silent. His fafe hid grown pale and drawn. "What difference can that possibly make to me —or to her?" he demanded. "I don't care a rap* about her people. It is. herself, just herself, I — < love!" He sprang to iii.i feet with a short". excited laugh.. "There! I have said it. I.have never said or admitted it to myself hct fore. But it's the truth 11 have love j [Tier eve«" << " ice * ner v *°" :c m tne fog, and'lshall £Cj°vmg her to the ( [.hour I die.- It was \M L , I and I agree with 1 WSlddei' hn t-lut ■«""*. 'Kere by divinS grace is tho one maid for me.' "- . "Jack, my dear lad. Hunk—Ludy Hermione!" V.C. cried. "Hermione! She is as much iii love with mo as I with her. G randmothei 's doings. Heavens, the lives th-it that old woman has ruined to gratify hor, love for power-. It was Charles' "and Alicia's turns last generation, now it is mine and Hermione's." He | aused. his elbow against- the mantelshelf, his face half hidden by his hand. "This is one of the joys of my position, a,s a member of the J. may not even, choose my own wife." • For an instant the other per plexed and irresolute. ■■■ Then his mii.d was made up. "Ludworth, 1 don' £ be!icve you ave contemplating breaking your ward to Lady Hermione. You are an honourable man and would" not .betray tie trust that she has put in you. But I I tell you oil? thing. If you were freo 1 as air,' Eldyth would no.ver many you I She will marry no one." I (To be continued.) ;