"Pretty Penelope,"

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXV, Issue 10713, 12 July 1913, Page 2

"Pretty Penelope,"

(OURiSERIAL

s By Lffie Adelaide Rowlands,l Author oi "A Girl's Kingdom," "A Splendid Man," "The Interloper," "A Kinsman's Sin," "Brave Barbara," etc.

CHAPTER, X.—Continued. Doctor Westall laughed grimly, with a look of sincere affection on his face. He hady known. Penelope ~ since her birth, and loved the girl well. "A nice sort of patient I have got on my hands now," he said, passing on, and leaving Denis with a nod. How the next quarter of an hour sped away Denis could never have told. He only realised that at last he was ouitside the lane leading his horse, and listening to Doctor Westall. The doctor lhad joined him immediately on leaving the house. ' 'That's a wonderful little creature," he said abruptly, a.s he walked through the mud. "She is a ray of absolute sunshine in that poor wojfaan's life. Her love for her mother passes love—it thas always been devotion." Then Doctor Westall came to a standstill. "We part here, so I'll say good-night, Mr Latimar. By the way, I hear you have found your fate! Wish you all good luck. Latimar Count will) be all the better for a mistress, though it Tvill take a long time before we get such a one as we used to bare. I'm a bit old- j fashioned, I'm afraid, but somehow, I cling to the tilings- J have-known and . loved, and. tp my. frieds of dd, dead as well ag living. Your mother was an ongel, Mr Latimar, and I can only ihioipe your wife will Be a little like iher." Denis stood in the lane long after Doctor Westall had vanished in the distance. What the, exact purport of his mind wa s at this moment perhaps he could not have told—he felt in a numb, stupid condition, like one who has realised that all hope is dead, all need for struggle over. The picture Denis made at this moment might have been christened, not inaptly, a study of despair. Who [ could associate the faintest meaning jof such "a word with the owner of 'the Latimar money and estates? ( There was none to propound such a question; the rain fell steadily; his horse snored now and then in an inquiring fashion, and slowly and l>y degreeg Denis vuoke out of his chaos of thoughts, and braced, up his flagging energy for what Jay before him. The thought came suddenly that Penelope, young and weak as she was, would not falter even for an instant. The thought was a spur. With one backward, farewolt glance at the window, Denis sprang into his saddle, and rode back to the Court, to take up his duties as a man; to carry them » through, and bear his burden unflinchingly, steadily, truly to the bitter end. The weeks sped by. The house party scattered by the middle of Ootiober, Mr Latimar going up north, to join a shooting gathering, Mrs Rochdale and her daughter to London to . start immediately on the preparations for the wedding, which was to take place" the week before Christmas. For some one would have been able to explain exactly why —Denis Latimar's engagement was not what is called ;i popular one with his tenants and neighbours. Marcia. was very little known, .to begili with, and ' though her handsome face and figure had commanded attention and admiration, there nothing winning, gracious or sympathetic about her. And then Denis himself had done nothing to give a start to any enthusiasm in the matter of» his forthcoming and speedy marriage. In fact, it was a general subject of discussion ihow changed the young master had become. Denis was much beloved by all, and the world of Stevenstone took the deepest interest in his fortunes and probable happiness or unhappiness. "He has never gdt over his mother's death," tihat was the prevailing explanation for the change, and it was one that was easily understood and sympathised with. With the departure of the brideelect and the rest of the party from Latimar Court, the interest and excitement about the engagement died down a little. It would revive again at Christmas time, when Denis was I to bring his new-made wife home to J the beautiful old house. The other subject of talk and comment, after Deni s and his house party had been dispersed, was the daily, hourly weakening of poor Mrs Desborough, and the marvellous love and devotion with which she was nursed by her daughter Penelope. Somehow or other, perhaps through Doctor Westall, perhaps from Daphne Riley, or the littlo maid Kate, the story of Penelope's accident, and her brave, tender conduct became known to every one. For one day Doctor Westall had insisted on Penelope remaining in bed —a lamghing excuse of stiffness and idleness was given to Mrs Desborough, who received it in good faitih—but rafter tliat one day Penelope flatly refused obedience to tire medical authority. ,"Tie up my leg, put, on as many splints a s you like, but stand up and walk I mean ltd; so now you know, Doctor Westall!""she bad said coolly. Doctor Westall had lashed himself into a fury. "Yes; now I know. And I know more, my young madam. I know you'll lie a cripple to the end of your days all through some idiotic, non- ' sensical" — and then Doctor Westall changed hi a tone. "Look liere, Penelope," he said coaxingly, "you will stay in bed another day or two, just to please me, wori't you?" Penelope's answer was very terse. "No, Doctor Westall, I won't!" she said. "But," began the old doctor, in a fluster.

"But," the girl had said, lifting her bill© eyes to his with a smile, "but you may talk till doomsday. I shan't listen, and I shall da what I intend to do. I haven't broken a bone, it's only a sprain, and I can get about with a little limp, perhaps, but not veiy bad, and then I shan't have my mother tearing up and down stuirs, and working herself into a fever every half hour, probably thinking lam going to die. I know my mother, Doctor Westall, better than you do. Oh, yes!"— Penelope waved her small haiml —"oh, yes! I know you give yourself great airs just because you take a; diagnosis or do something funny with a stethoscope; but, after all, any one can do that." "Impertinent minx!" broke in I)r Wesball, with a «mile on his goodnatured face. Penelope put out her lwnd and touched his. "Oh! don't be angry witih me, dear old friend. It goeg to my heart to see the faintest shadow on her face. Now, if, she finds lam so seriously hurt a s to have to stay in bed, all strapped up like a mummy, don't you know how miserable she will be? No, I can move my leg, and I will not lie here and feel T have perhaps been the cause of shortening her precious life, through soane anxiety, about me one single hour". Sh& will see the limp, of course, but- I can easil/* explain it away, and—"" "And the pain, child; liavo you thought of that? You will have some very bad moments with that leg, let me tell you, Mis s Pen—" "When I cry out, you shall be there to hear," was Penelope's reply. "I am not frightened of pain; at least, not very much." Almost immediately after Penelope's accident, Mrs Desborougih had caught a slight cold, which developed slowly but surely into & sort; of low fever. It wag chiefly the excessive weakness to Penelope's crippled condition, and if it had not been for" the sorrowful dread that weighed so heavily uipon iher, the girl could have almost rejoiced at such a state of things, for she was only too thankful for anything that would save her deal 1 one from anxiety. And Mrs Desboroiigih had no idea of the truth. (To be Continued.)