Fotheringay's Son.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 10713, 10 January 1913, Page 2

Fotheringay's Son.

f (OUR SERIAL 2

f BY ALLAN ADAIR. 1 Author •! "An Island PrlnceM," "A Marrlagfl of FoliaZ It y" Eto. _

CHAPTER XX. (Continued.) "He is not going to take the .scholarship," repeated Donald's mother calmly. "We talked it over yesterday, and he and I are in perfect agreement." ".Do you mean to say that Lavender refuses to take this scholarship?" cried the doctor. "In Heaven's name, why docs he do it? Does he knowthat ho will never do better? It is a k-inc'; of blue ribbon among the scholarships at the varsity." "The. question of doing better does not come in," said the little woman definitely. "We have not considered that point. Only I think it would lie unwise for my sou to mix with men so 'much above him in social standing and means, and he agrees with me." "But it means his future, his career. --'No man has a -right to throw away Ids chances like that. "\Ve quite agreed." she re-pen tc;l. stoically. "But. In Heaven's name, why?" cried the doctor, with warmth. "What reason can yon bring forward? He i-i a h-incl.?ome. well-bred lad. fit" to •mix with the highest in +t)«» kind. And I fhi"l- most highly of hv- moral character."

"«'-. do I." said Adelaide. "B--t vr-u do J :et ii'i'lerrtand." eo~tinv>d tb.n doctor: | "von not n.nti<>rstoirl. Yo- 1 lui , --"> led such a very seeluded life, Mrs Lavender, that, mn do rot compreliend what it all means —what ; t M-ill mean to the boy. Tt is absurd of you to 'have ,suc-h. scruples. If the lad were weak or easily influenced for evil it would hj". other•wise; but he lias liad splendid eont vol himself. T tell von he is a fine, fellow —there is nothing weak about him!" "Ml men are weak," said Adelaide

A month later Donald Lavender accepted a. post a.s classical master in a grammar school about fifty miles north, of Alderly, where he worked and suffered and ate his heart out for three long years. CHAPTER XIX. It was Mav, and the sun was shining brightly after a long and severe winter. Sir Arthur Damian was walking in Hndc Park, his coat well pulled up over his para, for his long residence abroad had made him feel chilly. He was so absorbed that he almost ran into a burly -man, who stopped short and held out las hand.

"Sir Arthur—you do not remember me!" "Ortainlv I do, doctor, and I am <rlnd to .see you! How is the lad?" "The lad?" Doctor Bernard looked nulled for a moment, "The voung man' who interested juc -n- T have never Forontten him. You look eAve. The ladhas not come to , n .,-nr—lms net died?". " "NTn." said th» doctor. "h'> has ~,-,+- that: it is a. long st/>ry." "fV>"« and lunch with me "t the r ] n l>_-T was hist on mv way there— f/>l] in*- 1 all about it." "Willinclv' T am at a, lose l K urin school asnin next week." «ir Art-hu- ""is as r-onnlar a- his •MWPnnnw u-"s 'T»rW d. „„.,- m" 1 "" than tliv-v! vnnrs. bo found h,',rcplf f-t-i" nF tlm most m-om input nv»i ; n fi,o cooioi swim. He had a oharm.ino- house off the. D ark, and was known to have a larg-p income. 'W<m.- tell mo the tenner man." b" saM drri""! ° """?"• • » to "">f at Oxford?" <nx n , 10VO ,. "T toVl vu fl '" i 1,: " -nether b-<d made oi-wHon, frm +i-,-orv fi-t. T tboiu-V <- " i ,1,1 1~ «I.i. —-«1« 1—

coldly. The doctor looked at her and saw that his appeal was making no impression.

"('■nti T ,«'■>« l.n."r>.nrli>r?" lm asl.-<>d j "Certainly!" Hot voice trembled j s'i<rhtl\\ Tt "'-T; the fir« + oP r»r>in- i tion that ho had noticed. "Donald "<! J n little disappoint?*!," f.-b a snid. "Tf ynti would not mind going to his room —ln is not up yet." Tlr> doctor found Donald !vi"<:. •lorovs tlie bed asleep, dressed a.s lie had been on the previous day. '"There ( ; s ram? mystery hero." he said. "This 'young <man is nn'-sinc: throusrh deen waters.. Hp is not only the son of his mother, he is the son of his father; too." The doctor's kindly eyes filled with tears. He loved the bov, ,-i.nd the change in him made his heart ache. He opened the window and let a stream of fresh air blow en to the j sleeper. I "Have you come to see me, sir?-" j i Donald asked. j 1 "I ca.mo to see your mother, in the I nr&t place," said the doctor, "and. J I finding her immovable, have come to I ! see you. Lavender, you cannot tell I i me that '•on have dtxternr'nel to .live' j tip evervthimr?" | The beautiful, sensitive lip's quiy- ' ered. j "1 must!" ho'said, with an evident effort. j "But why—why? Is' there any- i ; thing that you could tell me? I do J not want to probe into your secrets. I ' You know, my lad, that I have lived I [ many years in the world and have seen j ■ many things, and one has pas- | sed middle ago nothing seems to i shock one at all." j "My mother is past middle ago," said the young man. I "I know, but «he has a woman's point of view. If you refuse this ■scholarship you virtually throw away your chances of a career. You must be very certain that you are not making a mistake." "I am certain," said Donald, raising a pair of woeful though steadfast gray eyes to the doctor, "that I am making no mistake. There is no career possible to me. My mother has the right way of looking at things. I agree with her, but —it—is hard!" His voice broke and tears; rushed down the side of them, which-was a sign in itself that boyhood lay far behind him. "You aro disappointed,. sir," he said, his eyes fixed on the doctor. "And H<viven knows that I am! But there is nothing for it —Imust give up everything. And if you could manage to get me some post as usher in a school f should be eternally grateful. I know you can do this for me without doing violence to your conscience." z "My lad," said the headmaster « kindly, "you aro fit for the mastership of any school. If I had a post vacant here you know how glad I should be to have you." .."That will be for the future," said Donald. "I will try to work for that end. Oh, I am not going to turn my face to the wall! I shall do my very best. I may not make a career for myself, but better men thaji T haye been content to live their lives as headmasters of a small grammar- ; school." j "That woman has said something { that has altered the whole lad." I thought Doctor Bernard as he left the i cottage. "I do not know what it is. j If only I could feel sure that they i were not making martyrs of them- j selves from a mistaken sense of duty! But I will do my best for the lad."

mv utte- p.stnvH\TT"vH T fnii"-' 1 il—-a.o-eed the next moving. She had told him something that changed Ins point of view altogether. I did not ask what, but whatever it was it made a man of him. I went to his room and saw him alone; his mother took no unfair advantage, but what .she had said was strong enough to alter everything. The lad's heart va.s sorely wrung. He had set his mind upon Oxford and a career, but he gave it all up. Why, I don't know; it is a mvstery." ""I wish I knew why," said Sir Ar- ' thur thoughtfully. "Of course, the lad never looked like ordinary lads, but liis_ mother and he were open about things. 1

know where they come from—everything about them, in fact. I have discov«red since then by something ;sho said, that her husband died before the lad was l>i>rn, and that she had the bringing no of the boy. There seems to have been no mystery about th-o marriage. And yet there must be something in the background, or else why this refusal to go on with his career?"

"It is all the stranger to mo since I have, never yet been able to discover what actually became of the man he so much resembled. I have thought of the lad continually. But Fotberingay never had any one belonging to him. Ho "was the last of a fine, chivalrous, and unfortunate race —there can be-no connection with this young man Lavender. But. as far as I could judge from seeing him, ho had the same charm that my i>->or Tony had. What has become of him now?" (To be Continued.)