"Mrs Lorrimer's Folly."

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 9 June 1913, Page 2

"Mrs Lorrimer's Folly."

(OUHISKRIAL

By Charlotte M. Stanley. Author of "Edna's Vow," "His C ountry Cousin," "How an Oath Was Kept," "A Wo man Wronged."

(*U A I >T V. l} XX [ V.—Continued. Lillian dried her tears. Hope grow strong under Bertha.'s evident vvmpaihy. and slio hastened to give lier that information which might induce- her to yield up the boy for his own s:ike. For Lillian was by this time quite convinced that Will Saville was her long-lost son. •'His liking is quite beside the question," she said. "He married mo by a fraud, having discovered that T was heiress to a fortune, but T s hould not I)o the heiress at all if I could find my boy. His claims are before mine and everybody's! No, Sir Gilbert would not like it at all, of course, but no one would care for that. My son i s the true heir of ny Uncle Olivcr'-s large fortune. Failing any male heir, T inherit, and after mo will come my child, Ola rice, but tlio real, true heir is Wilfred Lorrimer, my son, if I could onlv find him!"

CHAPTER XXV

And in her heart she thought

"If she truly loved him she will give him up, for his own great good, and in order that he may secure the fortune."

But Bertha, though she was very grave showed, as yet, no signs of yielding. Nevertheless, this revela-tion-had its weigWrSrith her, and slio felt would have its weight also with her husband by and by.

Meantime Lady Holme laid a new trap for-her. She went and «,tood at one of the windows, looking out at Will Saville and Clarice.

"They will make a handsome pair," she said, "and they seem pleased with each other. Perhaps, since it seenio T cannot hope to claim that boy a. s my own son, perhaps some day I may have him for a son-in-law."

And she thought: "Now, if in her soul she believes these children to be brother and ..sister I shall soon know." Tn truth. Bertha, did seem shocked and startled bv the notion.

"I do hope.," she said .seriously, "that you will not utter such a jest in their boring. It is never wise to put such notions into the heads of boys and girls, and in this instance it would be doubly wrong, .since the realisation of such a fancy i s impossible—quite impossible," she added, almost, sternly, and with very strong emphasis indeed. A glance of triumph .flushed from Lillian's eyes. This time her trap had caught something. She kept her face averted, lest Bertha should see its light of joy. She s aid "to herself:

"Ho is mv own lost child, and sooner or latr I shall entrap or surprise her into a confession of it."

But aloud she only , s aid, with wellacted hauteur and surprise: "Why should it be impossible? Clarice will have the fortune which should l>e my son's, and, if neither Fred nor Frcd' s son is to' benefit by it, why not some member of hi,s family? For mv part, I should not ,mind. after a while, telling the children plainly that it would please me well if they grew up to love each other, and some day becoming man and wife."

Poor Bertha's dismay may be imagined.- A picture of the deplorable effects that might possibly ari-e from the inculcation of any "such ideas in these young people's minds aroso before her and bewildered her. In her confusion s he scarce knew what she f*a id.

"Pray, prav do not!" she urged, earnestly. "There is a reason <rhy it cannot be, indeed there is. Suppose that your.son should be.found, e.r if even F'"or! himself should not have perished—" A cry of horror interrupter! her. She. started and stared at Lillian, who, white as d'-ath, and trembling strangely, stared back at her a^jun. "What do you men"?" Lillian demanded hoarselv. "What wild, foolish words are these? Fred not cV»d, and T married to another! Sroh a thought would drive mo mad! Of course he perished. No doubt, no hope, no a nest ion of that ever crossed my wildest dreams. For God's sake, why should you doubt that ' must he dead when \ ?m Ladv Holme?"

Her looks, her words, the «- : M horror and anguish expressed in her voice and eye*, so terrified nrd agitated Bertha—knowing what she knowthat the last remnant of her selfpossession deserted her. She stammered out some incoherent words. He-'ven knows how mu'-l' Hiey might have revoked had T i'.l : :>n ' ri" u tlv heard them ; but at thot moment a light tap sounded ah tin* room rioor, and a servant entered. Tt was Lady Holme's maid. '*.f beg your pardon, mv ladv " she said, "but Sir Gilbert k comimr. I saw him from your bed- in wimlow. I thought you would like to know. Hark!" as a lord, impatient ring sounded through the house. "Here he is."

Bertha, rose instantly to depart, and Lillian made no effort to detain Iter. They went together through the French window <nto tho warden, where Lillian kissed Will and bade him goodbye.

"We shall meet again soon," she said to Bertha, who, looking hack at her as they closed tho gate, answered earnestly: "Yes, verv soon."

Lillian stood at the gate, looking after them, and Clarice came and put two plump, dimpled arms around lier waist. In the open window of the room they had just left stood Sir Gilbert looking on. Ho listened for a moment to what Clarice was saying. "Did you expect papa to-day. mamma? You never said i hone he will not stay very long; he is so cross—"

(Tot be Continued.)

The harsh voice of Sir Gilbert interrupted tho child. "When you are quite, at liberty, Lady Holme, I should like to see you," it said.

Lillian stooped down and kissed the child.

"Hun away to your room, dear," she .said gently. If papa heard you ho will have some excuse for being cross."

Then, as Clarice darted quickly away, she turned and went back to the house.

As she re-entered by the open window Sir Gilbert threw himself into mi easy chair. Whether the child's remark had annoyed hint is hard to say, but he looked even -miore discontented and disagreeable than usual. Lillian, on her part, did not offer any very overwhelming contrast of brightness or amiability; for her thoughts were with Will and Bertha, and she. was annoyed at thi s interruption to their conversation. "A little more and 1 should have learned her secret," was her thought, and she secretly bitterly resented Sir Gilbert's untimely intrusion. ■•Sweeping past him with a frigid bow, she took her seat upon a distant sofa ; and thus the two sat without it word beyond 'Lillian's cold remark *>n entering: "You arrive somewhat unexpectedly," a s uncongenial and coldly indifferent a, pair as could be found that day within the length and breadth of fair America

At last Sir, Gilbert said, breaking an awkward .silence: "My arrival vseemed to disturb your visitors. Who were those people, pray?" She looked at him with a glance of cold surprise that plainly resented, his question as an impertinent one. "They are friends of mine—Mrs Saville and —her son—since you are curious," she replied ; then, s till more coldly: "I understood you to say you wished to speak to me." "Yes." He waved his hand as if to put that business by, and went on with the present subject. am not usually given to interfering with your amusements aed friends, and if I do now it is for a "reason. That son of Mr s Saville's is a very handsome boy —of quite fifteen, I should imagine—"

He broke off, looking to her for confirmation. Hosv eagerlv she gave it!

"I should say turned fifteen decidedly. Mrs .Saville .says he will not be fifteen until September; but I should say—" She checked herself, seeing his wonder t her interest and animation. "W■••'■. does it matter, after all, what, his age is, s.-id she, vexed at herself.