Fotheringay's Son.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 10713, 23 December 1912, Page 2

Fotheringay's Son.

'OUP SERIAL.)

( HAI'TIOR XI (Continued.) It parsed .through his mind si'.'i was ail.' He thought of' those ovi days ln»i'.>re tho sea liad cost him u; mi thf luvuitablo shore; of the mad bad ways after Virginia's* desertion o liim; of tho wild play, the rcckles, .spending of any money he could hi; hands on; of those horrible night of dissipation, when nothing he coul< do con Id wipe out tho memory of Vir ginia. And then later there came hi arrest, degradation, imprisonment " but all was as nothing compared witl what lie had felt when first he knev that Virginia had been false to him It way soon made abundantly plaii to him that he had lost his place ii decent society, and even that provoked him more to sarcastic .smiles thar anger. What did it matter? He Ivad not tho grit in him to have distinguished himself in the army he knew that. Ho was capable of any amount'of daring } but the steady work of reclaiming himself would be impossible to him. When the crash came his lawyers took his! affairs in hand. Ho had five hundred a year of his own, and most of that had to go to pay his debts. Ho was advised to emigrate, and then tho ship had foundered. Even the sen, would not have him; and here he was in ail obscure village in North Cornwall simply marking time. He lived on from day to day, accepting the 'hospitality of the farm as freely as it was offered. He still had a pittance, and would have gladly paid for his maintenance if it had occurred to'him, but it never did. Practical everyday things never did appeal' to him, lea ft of all when they had something to do with money. He was quite aware of John Symonds, the younger's, dislike for him, and he did not wonder at it. He accepted it as he did the old man s love of him. The one was not more strange, than the other. That he should still have a fascination for men and women ho took as a matter of course, as lio had always taken it. Yep. he might, do worse than marry Adelaide Symonds. He would want .some one to look after him when he left the farm. As long as tho one woman wliom ho had loved could never bo anything to him, it did not matter what woman ho married. As a- matter of fact he knew that ho could not marry any woman except one who would be too simple, too unworldly to ask a stranger something of his former life. Only a girl brought up as she ; had been would take him upon his own valuation. But ho would do nothing in a hurry. iTho girl was refined'in her way, and she knew quite ay much as ho thought it necessary for ,anv woman to know. Ho sank into sloop with the thought uppermost in bis mind that it would not be so strange if he did marry the farmer's daughter. "She knows how to make a man comfotable," ho said to himself. CHAPTER XII. When Adelaido ) heavy eyed and shame-faced, rose the next morning she felt as if something of importance must happen to her. , Aftor last night's revelations she thought it impossible that things could go on :!<•' usual. But to her surprise Lavender met her just as he had always done;, his manner was not less deferential, and no warmer. He neither sought her company nor avoided it, and, being a simple-minded woman, she comforted herself with the thought that her fears were groundless—that Lavender had .not heard ri • word of what had been said.

She dared scarcely hope it -at first, but when a day or two had elapsed and there was no change in his demeanor 'her heart grew lighter. After all, she had. not betrayed herself to him; she could still feel that he need 'not look upon her with pity. Her brother, too, held his peace. Perhaps he thought that ho had gone quit-e far enough., or perhaps he felt sorry that he had said <so much. Any. how, he did not refer to the subject,, but his dislike to Lavender grew every day. I Adelaide was not so restful as she had been in the old day®; even reading did not givo her much pleasure, and she scarcely ever went to the vicarage now for the loan of books. She was walking slowly up the lane leading from the village one December afternoon in rather a despondent mood, her thoughts centered on Lavender, as. they nearly always were now. She fought against it, but to no avail. For good or for ill, Jack Lavender, scapegrace, had entered into her life. j But she-did not know him as a scapegrace—only as a man, handsomer than any man she had ever dreampt of. It was not what he said

BY ALAN ADAIR Author of "An island Pr ncflM," "A Marriage of Felloity " Eto.

' or did, but simply what lie >va« that ' fascinated her. j Adelaide stopped at a point that commanded a good view of the valley and river. She stood still to look at it a"d at the hilbi beyond. The beauty of the scene satisfied a craving v,-'th-in her. Presently the .silence was J broken bv approaching footsteps. She knew qii'te well whoso footsteps l they were. No one stepper! so Tightly and yet so firmly in the whole neigbonrhood as did Jack Lavender. Tt was as different- as' possible from tin heavy footfall of the native. For a moment she hesitated, wondering whether or pot.she should gn on. Tt would be better she thought. Then +he temptation to walk beside Jack Lavender overcame her. She j would allow her.w*lf this one fugitive | pleasure, even if it cost her pain I afterward. Her face flushed like a j roso and her heart beat quickly as i Lavender approached. Was it [pain than pleasure she felt? She. 1 scarcely knew. But her face.. But her face looked almost pretty a? she turned round and greeted Lavender. She would not let him suppoes she had not heard him coming. She was too honest, too transparent for + hat. As she turned to him she began, to talk of the view—she was ahvaws raid that he would drift into per-, sonalities. Lavender had not many subjects to talk about, and Adelaide could generally lead him. Although she did not guess it, she had incomparably the better brain of the two. "You love it, do you not? Von love every part of the country round Hero?" said Lavender. "Yes." replied Adelaide hesitatingly, "I love it all. All my forbears lived and died here. I have 1 een brought up on my father's land. It gets into the blood, you know, that love of the *oil. "Hoes it?" he answered, with a look of surprise. It occurred to Ipih that, despite her west country accent, her voice was rether pretty and she expressed herself well. "She is ,not like the ordinary farmer's daughter," he thought, forgetting that he had never known a farmer's daughter before in liilife. "Yes," she said, "one grows to lovo it more and more." "So that you com Id not live r.way it?" be asked ropehala'Hlv. Lnvende'- bad not, forgotten the words h rt had had said to biniself now and a lain that he ought to act on the knowledge in bin possession. He had grown -tired of the life on th<* firm. If Adelaide had pvpr so liH- 1 ? money he misht settle dawn with he'" in some other part of the west count-v. where he could get a little-fish in tr' and a sh^otin |T . B-if. none if these plans wee at al' defined. He put tho matter off as he had always .put-everything off that he oouhl, He did not even care to think of the morrow, let alone, the future.

I Adelaide looked at him and turned pale. "I do not know —that depends," she. . "Upon what?" ho asked lightly. I "Upon tho conditions under which [l should go away." she mid gravely, j Tt was an answer and yet no anj swor. "That is not telling me much. Miss ! Symonds," he said. She looked at him, rather perplexed. "What is it that you want r.io to say?" she asked. "I think I want you to toll me what these conditions might be." Again she hesitated, and then she spoke out bravely. "I cannot quite out my meaning into words." she said. "T mean that, if I were to begin life away from homo and given some things,* I could be ■ ouito happv. ' i There wa=, a moments pause. Meters were moving faster than, he liked. Adelaide spoke again. (To be Continued.) f I