THE FIRST LAW

Akaroa Mail and Banks Peninsula Advertiser, Volume LXIV, Issue 6576, 13 October 1939, Page 4

THE FIRST LAW

(Our readers are informed that all characters in this story are purely magjnary, and if the name of any living person happens to he mentioned nc personal reflection is intended.)

ALL RIGHT RESERVED

BY C. C. ANDREWS,

Author l of 'Beggar My Lady," "His Hour," "The House of Murgatroyd," Etc.

CHAPTER XVII. JARREIVS QUESTION 1 wo horses, Miss Romayne's favourite chestnut, and the spirited roan with '.he vhite suxkmg and st . who had: distinguished himself on the moor yesterday, were being led up and down by a groom bef >rt the door i-f the snii'l side h« i >£ Liu'is ladron Alison had ridden over aione from thfef Crooked Got. Now, looking beautiful as she aivays did, in the habit whose piain, severe lines snowed the perfect curves of her figure to perfection, she s" oa pulling on her nuing gaur'lei-s ana talking to Clitheroe, who had just joined her. The smile on her Lhcc was queerly ba'anced between ruefulness and amusement. 'You know, however reasonable one's expectations," she said, "it isn't particularly easy to feel that one has been iongrat tuled witth any overwhelming enthusiasm when the sole comment one gets is "indeed." But then nobody ever could accuse Aunt Camilla of gushing." "Was that ail she said?" Clitheroe questioned quietly. "Practically. Of course, she hoped we might be happy. And I think there was something about having rather suspected it , and considering it a sensible arrangement. Damping, wasn't it? Does it make you feel as if we couldn't be ir> love at all ? " 'Nothing coji' 1 make me do that." 'No, no, deal-, nor me." The gauntlets were on; slit looked up at him with eyes as fond and frank as the words. "You need not emphasise the 'me' so much, you know. I love to hear it, but it isn : t complimentary to my side of the business." She laughed, but there was gravity behind the laughter. "Whatever your record may be—and I don't inquire -this happens to be my first essay—and my last." "Is it? Suppose you saw reason to throw me over " "You don't know how blind I could be. I'm afraid T shouldn't see it." ' If I proved utterly unworthy of you " "Some militant ladies would tell you you must be that." If I ill-tieated you, deceived you It "You goose!" Brought disgrace and shame upon you " ' Oh, when you do that, you may go! In the meantime, remembering that I in damped by Aunt Camilla already, I'm not sure that I approve of your taste in jokes. Sorry? Well, then, as I do rather like you, and that groom hasn't got even the tail of his eye upon un, you may give me a kiss." Keeping her hands os his shoulder as she studied his face, her smile was replaced by an expression of tender concern. Until now he had stood in the shadow. "Everard, how p-ile and done-up you look—quite ill! And j your eyes axe as heavy as though you had been awake all night!" \Are they? I'm afraid I did do something of that sort.' 'Oh, did you 9 Poor boy! But do you sleep badly? ' "Now and then. Certainly I contrived to do so last night. It's nothing, dearest. A ride wt.ih you over the moor will blow away worse cobwebs." He spoke lightly and made a gesture to dismiss the subject. A figure had appeared at the end of the hall, leaving Miss Foliott's sitting-room; he glanced:'that way. ''Dorcas is no worse for- her attack last night, it seems." "Her attack?" Alison echoed. "What attack?" "I though you might have heard that I found her in a faint." "Dorcas? In a faint? However did that happen?" "Upon my word I don't Know. I found her lying in a swoon, or what seemed to be one, on the grass near to the oak parlour winuow. It was some time before I could bung her to hei senses. She had felt ill, she said, and come out for air. The faintness had overpowered her, I suppose." 'Was that all she said? ' Practically. II was difficult to get even that out of her. She seemed absolutely confuscd and scared—terrified almost. She implored me not to tell her mistress, a fainting fit might have been a crime." "It would hardly be less to Dorcas. And she would not alarm Aunt Camilla for the world. But she has looked wretchedly ill lately, poor thing, and been so nervous and absent, too—the last things that Dorcas used to be," said Alison. "If she would see a doctors-—" "Precisely what I advised h-r to do, and (offered to send for Oliver. Psi ihaps you can, persuade her. I don't think I succeeded," said Clitheroe. "I

have been telling Miss Romayne of your exploit last night, Mrs Wade. Are you feeling better?'' "Thank you, sir, yes I am quite myself again," said Dorcas faintly. She had stopped in passing on being addressed, and turned her face, In the light from the open door it showed of a greyish pallor and sunken eyed; the usually firm, full, fleshy cheeks looked loose and flaccid, as changed as the tones of her strong, deep voice; the very carriage of her large, high hipped, deep-bosomed figure was an altered thing. Clitheroe surveying her, thought so. "I'm afraid you give too good an account of yourself," he said kindly. "You certainly look very ill. If you are wise you will allow Miss Romayne to persuade you to see Dr. Oliver." He went out. His tone, though kind enough, had also been indifferent enough. That fancy of his regarding Dorcas Wade, that had had its part, and a potent one, in bringing about the position in which he stood, influenced his feeling towards her so little that it only rarely occurred to him, and when it did recur was'dismissed with small concern. Say that it was true, he had said to himself grimly, say that in this woman he saw the mother whom he had never known? What claim of love or duty could she urge upon the child deserted in his infancy? The tie of blood alone had not the strength of a straw. Any impulse of tenderness moving towards her would have been—let sentimentalists say what they would —not a natural, but ■ an unnatural thing. i "Mr Foliott is quite right, you j know," said Alison gently. "You do look very ill. Dorcas." ! "I am quite well, Miss Alison." ! "But you don't look so—you have j not done so for weeks—l have noticed it. And this fainting fit may be a warning of Sonnething dangerously wrong. I shall bo calling at the hospital later, most likely; let me tell Dr. Oliver to come and see you. Miss Foliott not know, if you prefer it." "Thank you; if you wish it, Miss Alison." Both replies were spoken gently, dully, tonelessly; her eyes, looking straight before her, were fixed on Clitheroe as he stood beside the horses In the act of moving away Alison stopped and turned back again. She laughed softly, the lovely carnation deepening in her cheeks. "That's very sensible of you," she said brightly. "Cut normal tonics are as good as a doctor's sometimes; you want cheering up, Dorcas. Shall I tell you a secret?" "A secret, Miss Alison?" "A very nice secret. We're not telling" it to everybody just yet; but you are an old friend, aren't you?—of mine, at least. And so " Dorcas started back. "Miss Alison, you—you don't mean | >f "Look and gesture finished the question. Alison finished the question. Alison laughed again. "But I do. How quick you are, Dorcas! Perhaps you've suspected us? I wonder if you have? Yes; that's the secret. No; it's only half of it. I love him—love him—luve him! And when I say it three times I mean it three thousand—there!" Miss Romayne was not often so exexpansive. She kissed the grey cheek that was like clay under the warm lips and ran out. And Dorcas Wade stood without stirring. In a moment Camilla Foliott appeared at the door of her sitting-room; she advanced, her long nun-like black gown sweep- ! ing about her, the black lace wrap folded over her flax-like hair and pale impressive face. I "Dorcas " | The woman turned and, her stout hand, her shaking hand, gripped her mistress's slender arm. She pointed to the two figures riding down the path to the gate. j "Miss Camilla—mistress—do you know? Miss Romayne—she has told me " Miss Foliott drew away. "Of her engagemen to Mr Foliott? Has she? Certainly I know. She gave me the news this morning. I am pleased. It j Is a very suitable match on both sides.'' I "Suitable——" j "Most suitable. There is no one j whom I would so soon see my nephew ! marry as my goddaughter. What is i the matter? You look white. Are you ill? No? Then I want you in the library." Miss Foliott moved away with her unhurried step. And Dorcas Wade unheeding for once, it might be unhealing, stood staring before her with a face as fixed ar.d blank as that of a sleepwalker. "My eloquence succeeded. Dorcas will see Dr Oliver. We might leave the message now, I think, as we do not pass his house; he is sure to be m the hospital still," Alison said to her lover. They were close to the gates of the hospital, beside the wall of which their road to the moor ran, and she turned the chestnut's head and rode in. Following, and about to dismount Clitheroe checked himself.

"There is Janett. Perhaps you might leave the message," he suggest-

Ed quietly: A glance across at the open windows of the office-room of the little house had shown him the broad figure of the eecretary in'the act of rising from his desk. He nedded a greeting with' no change of expresion. Alison called a bright "Good morning," pointing with her Whip at the door, and in a moment Jarrett came up to the horses. "Good morning, Mr Foliott—goor morning, Miss Romayne. May I ask what I can do for you?' "Only a message," said Alison, smiling. "Is Di. Oliver here? Ye? Then pleae ask him to call at Llansladrone in the course of the day, the sooner the better. Miss Foliott's maid had a fainting fit last night, and is quite ill, poor tling. Thank you very much. Good morring, Mr Jarrett." The two rode out as they had ridden in, Clitheroe with a nod and word as indifferent as the first. And Martin Jarrett stood and looked after them with his massive face as absolutely emptied of all expression as his voice had been. A little figure, gaily demure in pink dress and white apron, appeared at a doorway behind him. Miss Laura Browne, entrusted with a message from one ward of the hospital to another, paused and looked after the riders; her big hazel eyes admiringly followed Miss Romayne. She tripped down the steps. "Knows how to inde, doesn't she?" she said, briskly. "And looks splendid in a habit—that's where a figure tells, don't you think? Those sloppy, pillar-box, all-the-way-down-alike, waist-where-youlcan-catch~it. sort of thing that we go in for nowadays don't give one a chance. But a habit —well, it's like an amateur photographer in one respect—justice without mercy, eh? She's handsome, too, isn't she—and what a complexion! Can't say I wonder that Mr Foliott is so awfully gone on her, do you?" "What do you say?" Jarrett demanded. The tone was sharp, but the sharpness went no further than the tone. Hed Peggy been present to watch his face she might have pointed to it as a triumphant proof of her assertion that he was in love with Laura Browne. Sh 1 laughed and gave hed pert chorus girl shrug. "I should think you could hear, Mr Jarrett! English, isn't it? You must be ■as blind as an old bat, you know, if you can't see that he's desperately in love with her." ; "He is? With MisS Romayne?" "Of course he is. Heels over head. Don't blame him either; she's a dear." Laura nodded the little head and the little cap confidently. "It's bound to be a match, you'll see. If she .isn't as gone as he is, she likes him, and one wouldn't need much tempting to be mistress of Llansladrone. Why, ■ even young Peggy knows he's in love with her, although she desn't dare say ! so. Look here, I'll bet you anything , you like that Miss Romayne is Mrs Everard Foliott before Christmas and ! —Oh!" ; The ejaculation was one of dismay | —the girl turned, ran up the steps | and vanished. Glancing round "she had ' seen the tall, Innk, black figure of Adrian Glyde standing in the doorway of the little house. He had heard; his face, lean and hollow-cheeked from his illness, showed it; it wore a stricken look. With a sign to Jarrett to follow him, he walked into the sitting-room. A moment went by before he spoke, putting out his hand with a recoiling gesture, as a man might who vainly strives to fend off the infliction of some unendurable agony. "I heard," he said slowly. "Not your ! fault, of course. And not the girl's." | He paused and drew a long breath, j "Well, I suppose you have always I known?" I "I could not help doing that, sir," | Jarrett answered gently. j "No, no. I—l'm not one. to hide my j feetings much, I'm afraid. And this i —well, it has meant about averything to me, Jarrett." "I could see it, sir," said Jarrett gently again. \ "Everything. But I've nothing to complain of, understand. I was refused long ago. Still, a man can't help hoping when his whole heart's bound up. I thought that one day, perhaps. It's true, of course. I might have known it. The thought has crossed me, more than once. Well, it's a blow —a blow!" He paused, straightened himself, raised his voice. "Well, if she chooses Everard Foliott, I think she chooses a man not unworthy of her —even of her. If I didn't believe that ! But I do believe it; I'm resolved to believe it! As for me, I must fight through the be?t way I can. And— I'd rather be alone, I think, Jarrett." "It will wreck your happiness— spoil your life," said Jarrett hoarsely. "Yes, it will do that. But the same has happened, my dear fellow., to many better men than I am," Glyde answered quietly. Quite simply, as a woman might have done, he dropped his face upon his hands as he turned away, a sob shook his gaunt shoulders. Martin j Jarrett, pausing softly at the door, knew that he believed himself alone. Signs of a curious struggle were in his rugged face as he looked. With a gesture no less curious—it was as though with a mighty effort—he flung something from him, he turned back. "It will w~*>ck your happiness, spoil your life," he said again, thickly. "And you, I swear, are the only man to whom I am attached or grateful —the only man who in all my life has given me reason to be so!" He met Glyde's look of surprise and questioning wonder. "You said pust now, sir, that you believed Miss Romayne had chosen a man worthy of her." "I do believe it. Jarret " "If you had reason to think otherwise, what then?" "To think otherwise ? What—what do you mean?" The secretary drew a few paces back once more with the gesture as though he flung something away. His

words came slowly, as if they were spoken in a tongue painfully acquired and unfamiliar, but each was very clear. "Has it ever occurred to you, sir," he said, "that until he came here and stepped unquestioned into the place he holds, that nobody-—nobody had known anything of-—or so much as set eyes upon—Mr Everard Foliott?" (To be Continue^.)