Fotheringay's Son.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 25 January 1913, Page 2

Fotheringay's Son.

(OIR SER'AL

('TIA PTKR. XXX. (Continued. 1 ) "I had to go to India at the time.' ho resumed, "and T never heard from him again. When slv? jilted him no dnulsfc he went from bad to worse. They >;iy lie drank and gambled, find r.t In-i. he used some money that was not liis. He never meant to steal, mv lad! I am not defending his action, hu( I k : tu>w, and every one belonging t.) Ir'i world knew, that is was not .stealing In the crude sense of the wc:d. Wl'tta t-hoy arrested him lie only .-.aid that, he, supposed he used th.> money —that was all. He pleaded guilty and was. [nit in prison. That was t end of h'm as far as society, whyse darling he had been, was concerned. But I fancy that when they hear he has left a eon they will love you for his sake—l am sure of it—they could not help it ! What happened after hiVrelease?"

'"] suppose he must have ' gone abroad. and that the slii- ■ off the coast of North "Devon. M.v mother was a farmer's daughter,'and she rescued him, and. lie married her undo," tlie name of Lavender, She kview nothing of his family o.r of l:\s lift 4. But she loved Him— and then — then lie must have met once more the Aroman whom lie loved a.nd have fov;nd life unbearable without her, for he tln-en- himself under a. train and was killed."

"Good _ heavens!" cried Darn i a it. The tnig ;• .story of Fotheringay's end made him stagger. "Well," lie muttered, "what else could have been expected?"

"It .lias come upon me quite lately, too," eontinuedt ho lad. ''My mother told me most 0 f it as slie lay dying; i!,, :l when I laid li.er to rest by her husband my uncle told me how my father's fid came. He lies buried under a. stono with 'Jack Levender' carved on it-. 'lliev say that mv grandfather loved him like a- son." "Men always loved liini!" cried Arthur Damian. He was so frank and generous. But what an end! Under train! Oh, my poor Tony—my poor Tony!"

"No," s.-iid Damian huskily, "I suppose not. But now," he continued. after, a pause, "I have you, Fotlieringay! Oh, my lad, you do not know what- it means to me—you can't realise it! I am all alone in the world but for you! Strangely enough,, 7 have always felt that I could not really have .seen the last of my Tony I loved him too well for that. But you must be a son to me; you must learn to love- me. too,my lad.' I think my friend Tony loved me in hi* way, but l lot as T loved him. I wa>s quite content, however. But I want real love now, and your love more -than anything else."

"You shall have my leve," said Donaldi; "but you know there is a woman whom f love "

'*r know ail about that," hp suit!. "You love a woma.ii, and 1 have no doubt she love-i you, Xo Fotliering.iv ever loved without drawing out some respnso. Tlie woman mined your father and loved liim in her fashion, but she loved riches better. You shall have riches, for every penny T have is yours. Tony's son ! My boy, it seems to good to be true!"

"It means more to me than you fan imagine, to be assured that "my father. was not a, thief—a common tliief! I should live faced the world bravely ihad J known before what you have told me. I <lo not want to minimise his-offense, but it all iseems different to iv© now." Sir Arthur (held out his hand.

, If you really want me to be come you will liftve to invite u.y adopted skul as weil. I kno v vou w.ll be surrl'.'sfed tj leann that I hav.j adopted a ?on. And' who do you i.:ink it is? Donald Fotheringay, the son of mv ojj frieoad Tony! I shall make him my lieir."

"Fotheringay's son!" Exclaimed Lady Wilmington, as she read the uoto, "If Arthur Daniian has adopted a son of Fotheringay's, then I am sure I knoiv who ho is. I was sure of it the moment I sot eyes on liini. Of course I will ask him—l-always .like to bo first in the field—and that young man with Sir Arthur Daniian's great fortune and Fotheringay's name to back iiim up will go far. I shall only have to say that I have Fotheringay's son coining to Stay with nic to make a sensation! That man's charm survives the grave. I am sure it is the young man who was Glazebrook's I tutor, and whom little Sylvia—•— Ah that would he an idea t" Her .ladyship lost no time in dispatching letters to Sir Arthur Daniian to Lady Gla&ebvook, to Sylvia Glazebrook and to others. Her letter to Lady Glazebrook was in these terms: "My Dear Dora :■ I ,h aV e just had' a most astonishing letter from Sir Arthur Damian—so astonishing that I felt I must write to you at once. Fie ! tells me that he cannot come to my house for the shooting unless 1 will let him bring his 'adopted son' with him. And lie tells me further that his adopt-

BY ALLAN ADAIR Author af "An Uland Prl/wow," "A. Marriage »! FoiUH y " Et».

Ed son is poor Fotheringay's hoy, and, niv dear, that ran he po other tluin that handsome creature who came down us tutor to Mortimer. Arthur Damian says he adopted him a fortnight ago—that means he only discovered then who he was. lam sure it must be the young man whom I met at your ihouse, and who, T told you, was the image of Fotheringay. You are just too young to remember all about Fotheringay. but, I tell you, I feel quite excited when [ think this youth is really his «on.. "But that is not exactly what 1 want to talk to you about.. You remember I told you I was sure Sylvia was in love with him. I am sure cf it ■still. You know how changed I thought she was and how thin she had become. I understand it all now —she was in love with Mortimer's tutor, and, thinking him a nobody, knew 'that' she! could not marry hi:m. But if he is Fotherin gay's son. why, that alters everything! Nobody rei.nembers anything against the poor fellow in these da.y,s. and Arthur DamiaJi is absurdly rich.. He will •puslv young Fotheringay for all he is worth, and the young man himself is extraordinarily clever. If Sylvia really loves him, there is no reason why she should not marry him. I liavo .written to.ask Sylvia to oome here, 3>ut you need not let her come if you do not approve of my plan. "I am not saying a word to the child about it, nor will you if you- are wise. I am really offering to put Sylvia first in the field. This young man's father could have married anybody. And, my dear, .1 have'just this' little bit of sentiment in me —that E do like to see a. girl marry the man she loves! ' "I thiiiik she will send the girl,' Laclv Wilmington said to herself. "If she thinks Sylvia can marry well witlio it any trouble she will he only too pleased to send her. Dora loves to l>e first every wrere, and Sylvia would surelv eclipse her mother." T -ndv Wilm : ngton was alt excitement about the coming of "Fotheringav's son," a-s she called hini, She made a point of receiving her guests herself at the little wayside station near her shooting box. "I told you you were like my friend Fotheringay 1" she said to Donald, as hj" sprang from the train with a verve that meant renewed hope and courage. "Yes, T.sulv Wilmington, you did.' said Donald cheerfully. • "You are in mourning, I see," she remarked, after a pause. | /'[ have just Tost my mother," he said.

| Lady Wilmington asked no further questions of Donald, but slip listened eagerly to the story of his life as related i)V Sir Arthur Daraian that evening.- To Sir took the side of the dead another.

"My dear man,'' she said, "you do not .know* women;No wonder she was hard and would not let the lad know who his' father was! There is nothing a main can ilo thai would ! hurt a, woman mare than to kill himself for the sake of another woman." "I slimild have th.ouirht that a woman would have forgiven Tony anything," said Sir Arthur. "Anything but his preference for another woman. That, to ft woman, is unforgivable. You say that Donald told his mother knew nothing of her husband's past when she married him. She must have looked upon him with horror wen she discovered why he had to leave the array." v (To be Continued.)