Lady Marjorie's Love

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 2 April 1913, Page 2

Lady Marjorie's Love

(OUR SERIAL

By Carl Swerdna Author of "To the Uttermost Farth ing," "A Mere Ceremony," "A Fight for Honour," Etc.

CHAPTEIt XX. —Continued. ■•()' niY dear countess, that is preiJs vou please, of course lr-U Mariimiford slightly shrugged 1.1-'vh.r.ilders with a gently mdiifersm jie. '1 have, nor, the least , r i.cTlit or wi.-h to. interfere with _ your aivangements, 1 am sure. I simply express my opinion as a matter ot dutv. 1 merely desire to tree myself of my step-daughter. So that I do r-o l really u'on't pretend that I care in the least whether. «he is transferred to vour charge or to that ot. a husband' But she is an excessively tiresome and difficult girl to manasie, and I am afraid you will find before long that you have been somewhat rash. By all means take her to Ireland-as soon as may be convenient to you. .1 should be the last to place any obstacle in your way. lam quite ;-v for Mr Bnrrington, and in her heart 1 don't doubt" that the foolish little creature is very fond of him; hut vou don't approve, and really it i,s no affair or mine. I may thuik it a. great pity that she has not .pride and prejudices in favour of mere hirth—a s *I-said, they are really-'quite obsolete nowadays—but I wash my hand* of the wliole affair completely. ] will make just one suggestion, though: Marjorie is excessively obstinate —nio-st weak people are; ner father was just the same —she baft entirely made up her mind to go to her Aiilit Paget, and she is of age. If she refuses to leave here so summarily, arid insists upon waiting until her letter is answered, I fear you will find it a little awkwa,rd. If I may advise, I should say do not be quite so .sudden and peremptory. And, of course, we neither of us know but what she might accept Barringtaa when she finds that Mrs Paget deto receive her. Sooner than go to Ireland I think she would—l should not be in the'least stirprised, really. That is all." _ The counters, smiling, rose and sailed majestically out of the room.

ft was a miserable, depressing, I doleful .sort of day, but had it'been 1 everything that was lovely and' sunny Gerard Barrington, returning from a necessary interview with* •Mr. Petherick at .Upton Wafers, would prob- I ably have walked just as fast. The weather was so atrocious that the walk or row with Marjori© which he had hoped for yesterday was clearly impossible, but if luck favoured him, and that alarming old woman, the dowager, were only out of the way, it might be possible "to steal a little talk with her, either in the corner of her favourite window s ea t in the hall, or on the 7 huge old sofa where they had sat and talked-last night, all unconscious of isharp-eyed and scandalised Discovery lurking behind the curtains. ' " His head was full of her, for he was very much in love, but if she had been the last tiling in his mind instead of its most prominent interest and concern, he could not have been more utterly surprised than he was when presently he struck out of a cross way path a'mong the trees and saw her figure in the broad walk before him. Startled- to see her there in the.gray, threatening, iriclein&itd&y< lie quickened hiisl pace to overtake her, speaking the words thai came to his lips involuntarily : ; "Surely you should not be out here, Lady Marjorie I This vile wind is enough to give you your death of oold. and it is threatening rain, too!" "It doesn't matter if it does! I'm £wne I shouldn't, care!" i This desperate sentiment came with a gulp, a defiant, indignant, passionate sob. ' The rapid glimpse, her flushed face that "he. caught instantly told. Bamngten that she had been crying, and that she was .almost crying now. Amazed and concerned, his first impulse was to wonder wrath- ' fully which of those two confounded women was the cause of her tears, • and has next to ask her, which he did. Too angry, too helpless, desolate, and miserable to keep it in, (die told him- in the fewest of -words. "It's jrraindmimma.. 'She is more disagreeable than ever-—awful! I don't, know what has put (her out; but she is an a frightful temper. And she vows and declares tfovt she will take me off with her to Ireland, whether I like it or not." "She does?" ite looked Mank, 'surprised. "Yon •<& not ®eaM ,ai once?"- ••• "Yes I do. She says ehe nwlf go just as soon as her trunks aire packed, and" that lamto go iwith tear. I shan't!" "Her ladyship is peremptory." He recovered himself, possibly assisted by the vigour of the "shant." "I thought," he said, "I had. understood that the question of your future residence remained in abeyance until you received a 1 reply to your letter from Mrs Paget " "Of course! I told her that I must wait, and so I must. Where is iihe j use of my going to Ireland, and then having to come back again? Besides. I hate Ireland!" She gulped another -sob wrathfully. "It isn't as if she wanted me; she doesn't any more for roe- thaai Fen el la does. I should think, ,she> would rather ifchat I was with Attnt Eleanor. When -she

i first came and I told her aabout it, j she said nothing about hurrying me ' away. And now she has just taken j this* sudden fad. I don't .know why. I But it is just like her—exactly!"_ Her words came out in sharp little staccato sentences —along one would ' have made her cry. "You don't know the reason of this sudden resolution?" Barrington asked slowly, inwardly confounding the dowager. She had committed one crime in making the poor little goul cry, and a worse in thus threatening to whisk her away from him. "Hang the old catamaran !" he thought savagely. ."No, I don't believe «he knows herself. She did not give me any reason at all —only said I must go." Thi s ' was exactly the case, it having been far below the dignity of -the enraged old 'womau to descend to any mentiiop of Mr Ohadburn's audacious agent. Wherefore Marjorie, totally unsuspicious of the curtain last night and Fenella's confidence this morning, wondered bewildenngly. She .stopped suddenly in the path, stooping to,pick up a'handful of the golden and russet leaves that strewed it. It seeme easier to keep her voice while her fingers were busy, and it wa s so cliildish, so abominably babyish to cry! Besides, it made one a fright. She plucked the leaves t6 pieces.her eyes following Jack as he sniffed and plunged among the baisli.o6. I "Of course I must stay until I get Aunt Eleanor's letter!" she said. i "It may come any time—to-day, perhaps. lam af raids he must be ill, or she would have written beforer—there hais' been more than time now. Or it may be that she is away from home, visiting; she has such a large circle , of acquaintances aibroad," and her correspondence may not have been forwarded; servants are fio neglectful. But there' are plenty of reasons to account for the delay." j (To be Continued.)