Lady Marjorie's Love

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 19 April 1913, Page 2

Lady Marjorie's Love

By Carl Swerdna Author of "To the Uttermost Farthing," "A Mere Ceremony," "A Fight for Bono ur," Eto.

(OUR SERIAL

| CHAPTER XXV.—Continued. | Marjorie made no objection, and I they mounted the_ stairs together, made their way cautiously along the gallery, and more cautiously still down the adjacent corridor, for they must pass the dowager's door. Ihe girl trembled and turned pale a<s she stole by. If the dowager was awake she made 110 sign. Outside 'hex* own door Marjorie paused. Who could tell that it had not been tried since she had lacked .it all those hours ago? Who could tell that they bad not found her out, after all? Her hands shook so that bliev could not fit the key in the lock. Barrington put down the lamp, set Jack down —he was quiet' enough now —and unlocked the door for her. "It is all right," he said, whispering. "You wall find in the morninag that no one has the least suspicion. Try to get to sleep now, and forget all about it,. Good night!" Marjorie looked up at him—til® lamplight showed her pale little face and quivering mouth, and the long rough tress of brown hair that had tumbled down and uay curling and bright on her shoulder. She had meant to say something:—±o try to thank him, but she 'knew now thiat ,if she tried she must buret out crying.. She could only faintly echo his "Good night" and timidly put out her hand. If he were really angry he would not take it, perhaps, she thought apprehensively. Certainly she had not thought that lie would kiss it, too, and she snatched it away and shut the door between them, with a face that glowed like a. crimson rose.

CHAPTER XXVI. The morning was sun brilliant. To look out at £he bright sky. with only a little spudding cloud of white flecking fts blue here and there, was almost to fancy the resolute downpour of last night a mere dream, a chimera. "Perhaps Barrington, now standing to look out at one of the many windows of the great hall, now indolently strolling across to another, had mast likely some such idea, in his head. Or it may have been that he looked out at the various shining points of view wliich the different "windows presented without seeing them at all, for his face was graver than usual, .and absent in expression, though, not moody. If he were intent upon anything about him it appeared to be the staircase and gallery overhead, for with all his restless changes of position he alwiays kept them well in view. He was evidently watching for some one.

Ladyship. That the master of Castle Marling would have appeared before but for the presence of the countess he had known perfectly well almost from the date of his own arrival. He did not know what reply he made, because Marjorie was coming at last. Without looking toward the staircase- he saw her little black figure appear upon it, and saw also the dowager from her distant table raise her head and include he.r grand-daughter and himself in a comprehensive gaze But the old eyes behind their twinkling glasses must have been excessively sharp, indeed, to see anything but the most formal and perfunctory courtesy in the greeting that passed be tween them. Barrington bowed merely a s Mr Chadburii's agent had a right to do. "Good morning, Ladv Marjorie!" "Good morning!" The eyes she tried to raise fluttered and sank before tlioy met his; she turned to her ston-mother. "Good morning, Fenella!" "Good morning, .my dear!" The countess' cold eyes'.rested coolly and carelessly upon the pale little face. "So you have made up your mind to come do>ivn," she said. "After keeping shut up all yesterday, I really wondered whether you meant to appear at all. You look miserably white! Does your head ache?" "Yes, it aches a little. Fenella!" Marjorie stammered guiltily. "I —I did not sleep well." "You look as if you had not slept at all, child. The rain disturbed you, perhaps." Lady Marlingford's tone changed. "Speaking of'-being disturbed," she said. "I wish, Marjorie, ' that you would endeavour to keep that tiresome dog quiet. He was barking terribly in the ninjht—it was enough to waken the whole household ! What wes the matter ?''

"Something— something disturbed him, I think," Maijorie faltered. Her cheeks grew scarlet. Would Fenella's sharp eves see? She glanced beseechingly at Barrington. The delinquent Jack had trotted up and was pawing at his hand, eager to lie noticed. He patted the sleep kttle head and answered with in-stant readiness:

It was certainly not for the countess. For when presently that lady emerged rustling from the breakfast, room lie started} frowned, and looked disconcerted. He was more disconcerted still when he -observed th the dowager followed, limping on her stick, and most disconcerted of all when he found himself borne down upon by, both ladies. In the ordinary circumstances he "would : have faced the threatened .onslaught gallantly and easily enough, although he regarded the Honourable Augusta Elfrida with considerable awe at all times, but now there was something ominous andalarfning in this concerted advance. .Perhaps he had never I>een more honestly relieved in his life than when the dowager, after a glare at him, stopped short at a table which held an inkstand, .sat down in a chair beside it-, jerked a letter out of her pocket, and began to scowl I and mutter over it with a fierceness of disapproval which might have in- i duced anyone to pity her ladyship's correspondent. And he was still more relieved at becoming aware ti 1 - the face of the younger'lady still advancing to him bore its most gracious smile. "'Good morning, Mr Barrington ''' the countess said sweetly. She gave him her hand with a gesture -as gracious as the smilS. "What a ok • charming morning after the rain, is it not?" He did not hear her, and; scarcely •snw her handsome face —his ears were strained to catch the tip-tap of little heels advancing along the gallery. Marjorie must not be left alone to face these two women when she did appear. Who knew of what blushing, blundering, self-betrayal she might be guilty, expised to the merciless scnitiny of those four inquisitorial eyes? "Delightful!" exclaimed the countess. "But la<st night, when I drove home from vicarage, it was a perfect deluge! I am so glad to see the sunshine—l hope it may last, for a perfectly selfish reason. I suppose you know that I am about to cease my shameless trespassin gon Mr Chadburn's courtesy, Mr Barrington?" "I think I understood that you meant to leave the castle shortly." Was that. Jack's bark and the scampering patter of his 'feet? he wondered uneasily. "Almost immediately," assented the countess. "So soon, indeed, that if nothing unforeseen occurs I expect to take my departure on Saturday:—the day after to-morrow. And that at once explains why I do hope the fine weather may last—l am a shocking traveller- —an,d brings me to what I wished to say. I should so much have liked to thank Mr Chadburn personally for his kindness, and I wrote to say that I ihoped I might have the opportunity. To my great disappointment, I find that that will not bo possible. Mr Chad burn writes to tell me tliat he regrets that business must detain him in town until Monday or Tuesdays Most provoking, is it not?". gave no sign of his own inward conviction tliat Mr ChadburnVj "business" was nothing but a.n adroit excuse to avoid the thanks of her

"My fault, I'm afraid, Lady Marlingford. I must ask you to lay tlie blame on me. Through some business that arose unexpectedly, I was very late last night—or, more strictly speaking, this morning. In fact, at somewhere about two o'clock, and :n the wo-nst of the rain, I found myself straaided at Cross Beggard, and Iliad to knock up an old fellow who keeps the ferry and borrow 'his trap. I .suppose the noise 1 niadei ngetting in at such an Hour aroused Jack —I recollect liea ring him 'back. Pray accept" my apologies for having disturb, ed you—l hoped I had not done that."

"Oh, it does not matter-nt all! How very unpleasant for your, on evWh a shocking night!" The countess, all graciousness, did not even follow her stop-daughter with her eyes as she moved across to her favourite ,window and sank down on its cushioned lounge, the fall of the heavy curtain half hiding her. "So, as' I cannot have the pleasure of personally .thanking Mr Chadburn," Fenella proceeded. "I think, Mr Barriligton, t'liat I must -a.sk you to be my ambassador. Pray say everything that is appreciative of ! hie hospitality—it has really been nothing lew; —and add that when I .return to England I shall hope for the privilege of becoming personally kuown both to him and to big son. You will charge yourself with my little message? A thousand thanks! T do trust I have not detained you too long? My own time will be so fully occupied until T leave that I feaivd I might not be able to find another opportunity of making my . request.' My dear countess, T am at leisure now. Shall we go into the libra! y and arrange that little matter? Good morning. Mr Burrington." (To be Continued.)